Page 2 of The Fake Dating War

“Reema.”

In an absurd, out-of-body moment, we shake each other’s hands. They are Colin (Hugh Grant) and Perry (curls).

A story to tell the kids. Such professionalism was experienced when I met your dad for the first time. Firm grip. Softer than expected hands, but signs of a good moisturizer. He respected me so much. Don’t settle for less, children.

Colin looks directly at me, and my heart picks up speed.

“Okay. Yes. I’m doing it,” he says. “But can you step to the side a bit?”

2

REEMA

Off-center conversations build his confidence? Not the worst trait in a man. Trust me, I’ve seen worse.

“Thank you,” says Colin when I shift over a bit. Then he raises his voice—odd choice since I’m right here—and calls out a name.

“Sally?”

I turn. Sally was behind me the whole time, but I hadn’t realized. She’s an accountant and the oldest employee in our company. Her hair is completely white, but glows with the reflected warmth of her year-round suntan. Freckles dot her nose like friendly signposts that she’s approachable, for otherwise the precision of her perfect eyeliner, severe turtleneck, and chin-length bob is easily intimidating.

Collin calls her name again.

She startles to attention, having been absorbed by her phone before. Blue eyes pierce our very souls. “Er–yes?”

“Um, I know we don’t know each other all that well,” stammers Colin, “except for those moments on the elevator in the mornings, but would you want to join me for—um?—”

“Lunch,” whispers Perry under his breath, nudging him in the side.

“Lunch,” finishes Colin, gulping hard.

Sally and I meet eyes. Mine have taken a very deer-seconds-after-being-hit-on-the-highway-quality. She doesn’t seem to know what to think. Her visibly flushed cheeks arrow into my gut, for they only make her look more stunning.

“Sally? You were talking about Sally?” I find myself saying.

Perry utters a swear that trips over a snort. I don’t think I like him anymore, despite the baby Grecian statue curls framing his forehead. Great aquiline nose, too. But snorting at me?

There’s a burning flush crawling up my throat as I realize the extent of my blunder.They weren’t talking about you at all. My brain shouts at my body to get us out of here, but muscles have atrophied with embarrassment. Colin pulls at his collar, struggling to finish complete sentences. “You’re… great, too. I mean… I would… if, you know, but—not—real?—”

“Real?” I squeak, positioning myself now to see Sally again. “Sally hasn’t aged in the last ten years.”

“Tasteful botox,” she chimes in. “I’ve got an excellent nurse practitioner doing me.”

“When we celebrated your forty-seventh birthday last week,” I tell her, “I almost fainted with shock! Sally, you’re so hot. Seriously hot!”

Colin coughs, audibly choking on that forty-seven number.

People are staring. Not that I’ve observed anyone specifically outside our bubble of confrontation, but it’s like I can sense attention on me. I’m the one standing here, flabbergasted and mortified. I should walk away. I hobble a few steps to the side, but then turn around and go back. It’s not fair for Sally to think I don’t believe she’s real. It’s not what I meant by all this.

“Sally is gorgeous and you would be so lucky to have her attention,” I announce to them, because Colin suddenly doesn’t look as interested. I might also be talking to the whole cafeteria. I don’t know. This soapbox is one I want to kick away, but Sally is pressing a hand to her chest as if my words matter. “You were talking about hating photoshop, so I don’t know. My mind went to less—less put together women? That’s my own hang-up, obviously. But, yeah.”

“Put-together,” Perry says, crinkling his eyebrows. “I mean, true. She’s much, much, much more composed than you.”

“Threemuches? Was that really necessary, Perry?” I snap.

“There’s a reasonable way to present yourself… like you know that, right?”

“We’re all real women!” shrieks Sally behind me.

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