Page 86 of The Fake Dating War

“They need to see me first,” argues Priya. “After med-school, I bought a place and have an extra bedroom. Seriously, come whenever you have holidays.”

Her sister, Miya, sighs. “You haven’t visited since you and Esha were in college. Remember when we used to have all those sleepovers?”

“I do.” We used to get in our coziest sleepwear, drink loads of soda, and talk about famous actor crushes. The memory feels like a distant sunset on my face.

“Do you and Jake have holiday plans yet?” asks Manu.

I—have no answer. And she seems to be pulling out her phone as if trying to pencil a date in for our visit. More lying is needed. Some sort of excuse as to why we won’t make it together since post-wedding we won’tbetogether. But I’m suddenly so weighed down by it all that I don’t trust myself to act naturally enough. It’s like my head is torn thinking this is real, and jarred whenever I remember it isn’t. Instead of answering, I pull away. “We’ll figure it out later, but I’m going to join the shot-gun circle. It seems they haven’t started yet.”

Jyoti and Manu give me shouts of encouragement as I flee.

“Room for one more?” I ask, inserting myself into the beer circle.

“For you?” Vikram shifts over to give me more room. “Always.”

“Hand the woman a drink,” says Frank, clearly itching to get on with it, so he can win.

Coleman is across from me. He gives me his and goes to grab another.

“Have you shotgunned before?” I ask him when he’s back in place.

“Not since college.”

He holds his beer up. I tap mine against his.

“Just try not to gag,” he advises. “And you’ll be fine.”

“Gagging isn’t an issue for me.”

“What—” he sputters.

“Stop distracting him,” complains Frank.

“How am I doing that?” I wonder innocently.

Coleman opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Before he can form a coherent sentence, the contest starts.

I open my beer and the first half goes down smoothly, but after the can somehow fumbles in my hand, making the stream divert slightly up my nose. Suddenly,I’msputtering and the rest of the drink spills on the ground.

Sexy.

Frank is already done. No surprise, he wins.

Pooja thumps me on the back. “You okay?”

I laugh—cough. “I’m good.”

Raising my eyes to Coleman, I wait for some dig on my so-called gagging abilities, but he’s staring at me with a lop-sided smile. He comes over and uses his sleeve to clean the beer dripping off my nose.

What an epic failure. I can’t help but laugh more.

His smile goes full wattage.

My preference is when you laugh.

Can I… Do I… believe him?

When I give him a sloppy grin, his mouth stretches even wider. Like I might even take his breath away.

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