Page 27 of The Fake Dating War

She seems embarrassed all of a sudden, but there isn’t a flicker of recognition.

“My sister made me do it,” she explains quickly. “It won’t happen again.”

I keep looking. Nothing in her expression reveals any fear or anxiety that I’ve seen Tarun’s name. Does she know it’s on there? Isn’t that her plan?

“Why does your sister need you to do this?” I ask.

Patel pulls apart the papers, picking out all the illustrations. The rest of the guest-list is chucked into the recycling bin by her feet.

“I don’t even know,” she admits. “It’s not like she doesn’t have access to a printer.”

More confused than ever, I walk away.

18

REEMA

All the dates Leo set me up with sounded promising. Like I could actually get someone to agree to come to my sister’s wedding and temporarily fake being in love with me. I was clinging to this tunnel vision of hope despite all evidence to the contrary that I should, but that, too, fell apart with each failure.

Now Friday has arrived. The last day of work before my vacation starts. Leo is tucking another mysterious package into his desk.

“What do you keep buying?” I ask.

He startles as if caught red-handed. “Gifts for Wyatt,” he says. “You know how he is. I can’t hide anything from him at home.”

We settle down at our desks, and Leo practices self-restraint for a solid minute before breaking. “Okay, you didn’t answer my texts last night, and I called in sick yesterday so we haven’t caught up. How did the dates go?”

“Bad. Bad. Good.”

“Which one was good? Let me guess. Xian Fleming, age twenty-nine, occupation, guitarist.

“Actually, no. He stood me up.”

“Fucker.”

“The good one was Wes Tsang. The thirty-nine-year-old insurance agent.”

“Why was it good? Did you slag?”

“Slag? Is that a new word?”

Leo’s computer makes a flutey greeting sound. I’m online already, though my machine never sounds as happy as his.

“No, I made it up,” he says. “It’s a polite substitute for a more dirty word. Unless—” He smirks. “Should I get dirty?”

“Oh. God.”

“That sounds like a yes to me.”

Even when everything else goes wrong, our bantering stays the same. That’s why I want to live in it longer today. “No, I’m shutting down your love of dirtiness. Nothing of that sort happened with Wes.”

“Bo-ring.”

“So you don’t want the details? Cool.” I dig out headphones I haven’t used since Leo got assigned to sit with me, and I put them on.

A scrunched up paper ball plonks my shoulder. I hear Leo calling my name. I take the headphones off, swivel my chair slightly, and raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh, did you want something?”

“Shut-up.” He rolls his eyes. “Talk.”

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