Page 18 of Faking the Face Off

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Then I guess we’d better make this convincing.”

CHAPTER 7

ANNA

Sitting with Ollie, I feel the full weight of his words. He saidyes.His voice had been steady, calm even, but the word seemed to hang between us like a lit match, waiting for something to ignite.

“Can I get a glass of water?” I ask, my mouth suddenly extremely dry. Sahara dry.

Ollie doesn’t respond; instead, he hops up and grabs a glass from a cupboard in the kitchen and fills it for me in no time flat. He hands it to me as he settles back into his seat.

A fake relationship. Pretending to be in love with my best friend.

My heart treats me to a funny stutter, and I pray it isn’t obvious. Ollie leans back now, arms crossed, watching me with that patient expression that only makes it harder to breathe. How could he look so unaffected when I feel like I’m balancing on the edge of a cliff, now with my father and Ollie’s futures tied to my next move.

I reach for my glass, needing something to do with my hands, but the moment my fingers wrap around it, I realize they’re trembling. Which they would be when I’m about to put a plan into motion that could change at least one relationship as I knowit. I let go quickly and straighten my shoulders, dragging my eyes back over to meet Ollie’s. “If we’re going to do this, we need rules.”

“Rules?” Ollie raises an eyebrow, a slow grin pulling at his lips. Of course he finds this amusing.

“I know it sounds corny, but I actually like to read books with the fake dating trope.”

Ollie blinks twice. “What?”

“A trope. It’s a recurring theme, like in a book.”

He laughs. “I know what a trope is, but let’s rewind to this laying down rules thing.”

“Not so much that they’re rules, per se. Guidelines. Boundaries. So no one gets hurt.”

His smile falters, and something softer flickers in his expression. “Anna, I’m not going to hurt you.”

A tiny chunk of ice inside me melts when he speaks. I know what he means, who he’s referring to, and why. The ex. Jason.

Ollie was around for the Jason days. They’re not my best ones on record. Jason is this good looking guy whose outsides do not match his insides, not one bit. He came across as the kind of young gentleman you’d be proud to bring home and introduce (or show off) to your family and friends. He comes from a prominent family, studied to be a lawyer, and liked playing touch football on the weekend with his old college buddies. But once the honeymoon days, the ones in the very beginning of dating, wore off––well, that was when I realized he also had a crappy habit of being simply rude, condescending, and a straight up butthole to basically everyone.

Ollie was lucky enough to be around for those six months that I dated Jason, so he saw more than he probably wants to ever admit. Like the day Jason took a tip back from a server because he didn’t get his coffee ‘at temperature’. I’ll never forget the look on Ollie’s face as we watched Jason reach over thecounter, put his hand into a tip jar where I had just slid a five dollar bill, and he took it back out. Who does that?

I mean, our time together went down in the history books in River City considering I broke up with him, while he was screaming at me that I don’t pay attention to him when he talks, in the middle of the River City Saturday Market. This is the same guy who would insist I borrow random things from him––from power drills to a Brita water filter, a knitted blanket from his nana or a sewing machine (I’m still not sure why a sewing machine)––he’d send me home with the strangest items in my hands. I’m pretty sure it was just so he had a touch point, or a reason to call me again the next day. You know, to stay in touch and feel a small molecule of what he thought was control.

Let’s just say I walked away that day, and from that time of my life, with PTSD when it comes to relationships and guys named Jason.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “I know you wouldn’t want to. But you’re right that things could blow up.” I gesture vaguely between us. “This is dangerous, Ollie. We’re messing with something important. And I—” My voice catches, but I push through. “I can’t lose you because of this. Not you.”

His eyes soften, and for a moment, I think he might reach across the table, but he stays put. “You won’t,” he says quietly.

I nod, even though I’m not entirely convinced. “Rule one: No kissing unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

His grin returns, full force this time. “Define necessary.”

I roll my eyes, though my cheeks betray me with a flush of heat. “You know what I mean. Public events. Photographers. The kind of moments that sell the illusion.”

He chuckles, leaning forward. “Got it. No unnecessary kissing. What else?”

“Rule two,” I say, fighting to stay on task, “we need to stay friendly and focused, keeping our dating lives out of this. Noasking about crushes or...you know, things that aren’t part of the show.”

I’m throwing this rule in there mostly for me. Being friends, we’ve seen each other’s dating lives flourish or stall over the years, so in my opinion, if we’re gonna do this fake thing, we don’t need the distraction or the confusion of outside parties. Look, I’m not dating anyone and again, Ollie knows my exes, so I don’t care, but it’s about respect, you know?

Ollie gives a slow nod. “Okay. No digging into each other’s current love lives. Fair. How about rule three is hand-holding with some kisses on the cheek?”

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