Page 36 of The Match Faker

In reality, the hardest part is trying not to stare at the sharp edge of her jaw or the long fan of her lashes. It’s not pulling to the side of the road and telling her everything but begging her to forgive me anyway. Not because I need her to impress my dad, but because she’s so damn lovely.

Slowly, her smile fades, like she’s misinterpreting my expression. “What?” she asks, her voice tinged with wariness. She closes the binder.

“Nothing.” I keep my eyes on the semitruck in front of us. It’s easier that way. Forcing myself to focus solely on the road takes my mind off how badly I want this to be real. Because if this was real, if I was real enough for her, I might pull over on this 400-series highway and kiss her senseless.

“Nothing,” I say again. “I had no idea my fake girlfriend was such a nerd.”

A few hours later,just as the footbridge they built over the highway comes into view, we whizz past the black and white sign for the best goddamn burger joint north of Highway 401. The exit is a few hundred meters away and I’ve got to get into the right lane if we’re going to stop.

And I really want to stop.

With every kilometer we get closer to home, my skin feels tighter. Baker’s Burgers is the only good thing about this drive. I look forward to it every time I make the trip. It’s probably a placebo effect, but I like to think I land a few more zingers on Dad when I have Baker’s Burgers in my belly.

“You hungry?”

Jasmine stops midway through reading aloud from The Binder, looking confused. “For what?”

Case in point: she’s taking this so seriously she seems to have forgotten that hunger is a thing. I check my side mirror to hide my smile. “For food.”

This perks her up. “Would you like your muffin now?” she asks, pulling the Tupperware from the insulated bag behind my seat.

A Baker’s Burger has an impossible to recreate flavor. They use the processed cheese that melts and congeals in a way you know will clog your arteries, but the flavor is so damn good, it’s hard to care. They’re always liberal with their barbecue sauce and grilled onions. A Baker’s Burger burger is a heaven I only get once or twice a year.

She looks so hopeful, though.

“Sure,” I say. “Thanks.”

The sun, which had tucked behind a cloud about an hour ago, breaks through at the exact moment we pass Baker’s Burgers, giving it a heavenly quality, taunting me.

She holds the muffin daintily with her pastel-pink-tipped fingers. She’s even peeled the wrapper off for me. As I alternate between keeping an eye on the road and inspecting the muffin, she lowers her head like she’s studying The Binder, but she’s quiet, like maybe she’s waiting for me to take my first bite. So, I do.

“Oh my goddddd,” I mumble around a mouthful of muffin. It’s not a greasy cheeseburger, but it’s buttery and a little bit spicy. It’s good.

Her answering smile rivals the sunbeam we just passed. Dimples bracket her wide mouth. I’m so used to seeing it pinched in a frown, I can’t help but be blown away by the way it changes her, loosens her.

“You like it?” she asks, her tone full of so much hope.

“It’s amazing,” I say through another mouthful.

“So.” She unfolds a napkin and drops it on my lap. “How we met.” The words escape her quickly, like I didn’t notice she dropped the napkin from half a foot above me rather than touch my thighs. “I was thinking we’d say we met at the grocery store. Something classic but easily forgettable, like we were both reaching for the last bag of cake and pastry flour.”

“Why not the last bottle of AXE body spray?”

“Why would I buy AXE body spray?”

“Why would I buy cake and pastry flour?”

She nods, making a note in her binder. “Fair. We’ll circle back to that.”

“You didn’t make a binder for the engagement party.”

“So?” She bites the tip of her pen.

“So, why do we need one now? Why don’t we just tell the—” I stop myself. I can’t suggest that we tell the truth, because “the truth” isn’t true.

“This is different,” she says. “At the engagement party, we had a few hours to kill with people who were too drunk to remember much. Now we’re spending an entire weekend with the people who know you best.”

Questionable, but I’ll let it slide.

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