Page 36 of Faking It For Real

"The rules are simple," the student volunteer explained. "Each couple takes turns. One minute per person. Most apples retrieved wins a prize. No hands allowed."

"Strategy?" Ethan asked me quietly.

"Go for the ones floating near the edges," I replied without hesitation. "Easier to corner them."

"Good call," he nodded approvingly. "I'll take left side, you take right?"

"Deal," I agreed, oddly pleased by our instant teamwork.

When our turn came, Ethan went first, diving in with impressive focus. His technique was surprisingly effective—he'd trap an apple against the side of the tub, then secure it with his teeth. By the time his minute was up, he'd retrieved three apples, putting us in the lead.

"Beat that," he challenged, water dripping from his chin.

"Watch and learn, Wright," I retorted, adjusting my position.

When the timer started, I employed my strategy, working methodically around the tub's perimeter. The water was ice-cold, making me gasp as I submerged my face, but determination drove me forward. As the volunteer called the ten-second warning, I made a final lunge for a fourth apple, barely securing it as time expired.

I emerged triumphant, water streaming down my face, apple clenched between my teeth. The small crowd that had gathered applauded as I deposited the apple in our basket, putting our total at seven—two more than the next best couple.

"Yes!" Ethan exclaimed, offering his hand for a high-five that I enthusiastically returned. Our palms connected with a satisfying smack, and something about the shared victory, however silly, made me genuinely smile.

"We make a good team, Mia," he said, handing me a towel.

"Don't sound so surprised," I replied, wiping my face. "I'm very competitive."

"I never would have guessed," he deadpanned, but his eyes were warm with amusement.

We were declared the winners, earning a ridiculous trophy made from a spray-painted apple and a gift certificate to the campus coffee shop. The absurdity of it all—standing there soaking wet, clutching our prize—struck me suddenly, and I burst into laughter.

Ethan joined in, his deep laugh blending with mine. "We must look insane," he managed between chuckles.

"Completely," I agreed, still laughing. "Worth it, though."

"Absolutely," he nodded. "Coffee's on us for the next week."

"I'll hold you to that," I warned him.

"I'd expect nothing less," he replied, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment that stretched just beyond casual.

Our victory seemed to break the last of the awkwardness between us. As we continued through the festival, now accompanied by various teammates and their dates, the performance became easier, more natural: Ethan's arm around my shoulders as we watched the pie-eating contest, my hand on his arm as I pointed out a particularly beautiful sunset breaking through the clouds. Small touches that should have felt forced but somehow didn't.

We were sampling caramel apples at a booth near the central fire pit when I spotted her. Vanessa. Standing about twenty feet away, watching us with undisguised skepticism.

"Ethan," I said under my breath, "three o'clock. Vanessa."

He tensed immediately, his hand tightening on my waist. I turned slightly to study her—tall, willowy, beautiful in that conventional way that made ordinary girls like me feel decidedly average. She was wearing a cream-colored sweater that probably cost more than my camera bag, her hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders.

"Maybe she won't come over," Ethan said hopefully.

The universe, apparently determined to maximize awkwardness, immediately proved him wrong as Vanessa began walking directly toward us, a tight smile fixed on her face.

"Ethan!" she called, her voice carrying the practiced warmth of someone who expects to be the center of attention. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Vanessa," he acknowledged with a nod, his arm still firm around my waist. "Didn't realize you were coming to the festival."

"Oh, I never miss it," she replied, her gaze flicking to me, coolly assessing. “We meet again—what was your name, again?”

"Her name is Mia," Ethan stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

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