Page 9 of Hard to Pretend

I sent him a middle finger emoji, pulled up Chris’s contact again, and started thinking of the perfect opening line. The phone rang before I could construct it.

I expected it to be Matt, asking if I’d texted him yet.

Instead, Chris’s name flashed across the screen. I smiled to myself as I fumbled to press the accept button, my finger slipping and hitting the reject call button instead. I groaned and immediately called him back.

“Did you send me to voicemail?” his deep voice asked.

“Not on purpose,” I admitted. “I hit the wrong button.”

His laugh echoed in my ear. At least he wasn’t offended. At least Ihopedhe wasn’t offended. It would be just my luck to piss him off, but did people really laugh when they were pissed off? More importantly didhelaugh when he was pissed off?

“Well I’m glad it was an accident.”

“I was actually about to text you.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passed between us. This was why I preferred text messages. There was time to think about what I wanted to say, no pressure to fill the awkward gaps in conversation.

“So how have—” I started.

“I wanted to ask you—” He started at the same time.

“You first.” Our voices came out in unison.

I laughed first, then his deep laugh joined in. I decided I really liked the sound of his laugh. It made me feel warm, like I’d just curled up under my favorite fleece blanket, the one with the lemons on it that my mother had bought me for Christmas years ago. It was a comforting sound, and I wanted to hear it again.

“Seriously, you first,” I told him after our laughter died down. I figured whatever he wanted to ask me was more interesting than my riveting ice breaker of how he was doing. His question might lead to actual conversation, not just boring small talk.

“Would yoube willing to reprise the role of boyfriend?” he asked. There was a nervous tremor to his voice that was both adorable and intimidating. “One night only. I promise, I’m not going to keep calling and asking you to save my ass.”

“I thought the coffee shop was a one time thing?”

“It was supposed to be,” he said, “but then Mason told the rest of my friends that he’d met my boyfriend… who none of them knew existed. Obviously.” His words were coming out in a rushed jumble. I wondered if he looked flustered. I bet he looked really cute when he got flustered. “Now they want to meet you, and Lucille is having a birthday party this weekend, and they’re insisting I invite you. If you can’t come, that’s fine. I mean I can just tell them that you had other plans or that we broke up or—”

“Send me the details,” I cut him off. I couldn’t let him keep rambling, as cute as he sounded. Was it the ideal way to see him again? No. It was deceptive, and it would probably come back to bite us in the ass in a not-sexy way.

On the other hand, it meant I’d get to see him again. I’d get to find out if that spark I’d felt that night after Goliath was real or if it had been a glitch in the matrix. Or worse, if it had all been in my head.

Besides, it had been so long since I’d been on a date that I didn’t care that this was going to be fake. At leastI could tell my friends that I had plans that wasn’t with one of them or my mother.

“Wait, really?”

“Did you think it’d be a harder sell?”

“A little, yeah.”

“I mean I could fake it. Really make you work to convince me,” I teased.

“No, it wouldn’t be the same,” he joked back. “I’d know you were faking, and it’d make me feel dirty.”

It was my turn to laugh. Unfortunately, my laugh wasn’t as warm as his and it included a snort. I felt my face burn in embarrassment. Maybe that was the reason that the only dates I could get were fake and most of my hookups lasted one night only.

“But seriously, send me the information. I’ll be there.”

Then, I had the best idea I think I’ve ever had. If we were going to fake this for his friends, I should know more about him. It also meant that I’d get to spend a little more time with him, get to know the real him.

---