Page 62 of Fake You

“Where are we going? What do I need to bring with me?”

“You need literally nothing. Oh, that’s a lie. I guess you’d want to bring your phone, but other than that, you’re good.”

I sighed so emphatically, I swore I felt myself deflating. “Jesus. A least let me go say hi and bye to my dad.”

I headed off down the hall, and my heart broke a little as it always did, when my dad’s eyes lit up as he saw me, which was always.

“Hi, Angelita. How was your day?”

“Hi, Papá. It was fine. How about yours?” We’d messaged back and forth throughout the day as we did most days, so I kind of already knew, but I always took the time to ask, regardless.

“Oh, cool, cool. Mrs. Martinez made the best tripletas, and told me a crazy story about the time she got arrested for DUI, even though she hadn’t been drinking, then blew the cop to convince him to let her go.”

“Hahaha, yeah I know the one.” I knew it by heart, in fact. Old Mrs. Martinez had told it to me no less than what felt like three hundred times. “You can’t tell me you haven’t heard it.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“Dad! That just shows how guys don’t listen. She tells that story so often it’s not even funny. I mean the story is funny like, the first, second, and even fifth time, but now that I can recite it by heart, not so much.”

“Well, I found it funny.” He shot me a goofy grin.

“Good for you. Anyway, I just came to say hi and bye. I’m going out.”

“With lover boy?”

“Drew you mean?”

“Yeah, him. He’s got it bad, you know.”

“Hmm… got what?” I was already a little distracted, thinking about what the night with Captain Crazy Pants might have in store for me.

“The hots for you.” My head snapped toward my dad like I’d been electrocuted.

“Shh… would you keep your voice down!”

“Why? He’s the one with love hearts in his eyes. Why should I be quiet?”

“Because you have no idea what you’re talking about, that’s why.”

“Really, Angelita? I wasn’t born yesterday, and I have two eyes right here in the front of my head. He comes here asking questions about you, listening to my stories about cute shit you did when you were a kid, and I can see that he’s not just humoring me—he wants to know all this stuff. That shit is written all over his face.” I didn’t dare ask what shit he was referring to, but I got the answer anyway. “He’s in love with you.”

“You’ve been watching too many of those lame lovey-dovey daytime movies with Mrs. Martinez, and it’s finally rotted your brain. You’re full of crap.”

“Hey, don’t speak to your old man like that!” He tried his best to sound stern, but I would have known he was smiling even if I couldn’t see his face. I could hear it in his voice. “And don’t stand there and lie to me and tell me that the feeling isn’t mutual. I can read you like a book, m’ija.”

“Well, this time you have the book upside down, and you’re reading it ass backward, because you’ve definitely got it twisted.”

“I don’t think I have. It’s Jonathan Pine all over again. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget? You take great delight in reminding me every few months. Now don’t make me come over there and pull out that breathing tube!”

Jonathan Pine had been my first crush in grade school, and at the time, I didn’t know how to handle those feelings, so I totally flipped out. My dad still found the whole saga beyond hilarious. I kind of did too, but I let him have his fun thinking he was baiting me with it.

“Why are you still afraid to love, and let someone love you?”

What the actual fuck? Where the hell did that come from?

“I’m not. I just haven’t found the right person.”

---