Page 33 of The Fake Dating War

Tarun Singh.

With him, I could take the lead again. Even if the chances of him signing are non-existent, it’s my only shot. Will it work?

Pateldidsign Moby Dick today.

What if it was possible?

If I got him, I’d win the bonus. But what reason do I have for getting close to him?

“Did you find that date for your sister’s wedding yet?” I find myself asking.

Patel averts her eyes. “No.”

“Good. I’ll come with you.”

22

REEMA

I laughed at the offer until Coleman stormed off.

Leo also laughed, but not as hard. He seemed to think it over until I told him to knock it off.

Now we’re packing up for the day. Before I can wish him a great time in Jamaica, he starts pulling out the bags I’ve seen him squirreling away in his drawer this week.

“Gifts for Wyatt, right?”

“I lied.”

A bag spills open, revealing a small haul of Indian jewelry that’s been marked down, but is still of great quality. They are pieces he’s haggled with shopkeepers to buy for me. Another bag opens to fancy face-masks. The third has make-up.

“You didn’t need to do this,” I keep repeating.

“Try not to cry because it will embarrass us both,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s nothing. Just a few things to help you look your best for Esha’s wedding since I won’t be coming with you.”

“I don’t deserve you.” I internally vow to get Leo the best gift I can afford as soon as my wallet has breathing room again. Soon.

“You don’t deserve me,” he confirms. “No one does. But look hot for me anyway…” he says. “And maybe Jake? If you take him up on his offer?”

“Never in a million years.”

He looks unconvinced, as if I’m lying to myself.

I’m not.

23

REEMA

I can’t believe it.

Did Jake Coleman really offer to be my fake boyfriend for Esha’s wedding?

Where’s the punch-line?

When I get back home, I pack the rest of my belongings. In my bag are the few outfits from my original wardrobe that I save for special occasions. If anyone in my family has noticed me repeat the same ones over these last two years, no one has mentioned it to me. It helps that we don’t see each other often. With the big wedding planning going on, it’s been at least six months since I saw them last. Of course, I’ve helped over the phone, but that doesn’t compare to the business of being there in person.

My parents have—once or twice—mentioned coming to visit me, but I’ve put them off by talking about long hours at work, and when that doesn’t work, gone to see them instead. It’s how I’ve kept the reality of my situation a secret from everyone. No one knows the consequences of my foolishness.

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