Page 83 of Faking It For Real

A hand caught my arm, halting my progress. I turned to find Vanessa beside me, a drink sloshing dangerously in her hand. Her eyes were too bright, her smile too wide—she'd clearly had a few.

"Vanessa. Hi." I tried to disengage my arm, but her grip tightened.

"I've been looking for you," she slurred slightly. "We need to talk."

"Now's not really a good time," I said, glancing back toward Mia, who was watching us with a carefully neutral expression.

"It's about your girlfriend," Vanessa continued, putting air quotes around the word 'girlfriend' with her free hand. "I've been watching you two. Something's off."

I tensed. "Nothing's off. We're fine."

"Are you? Because you've barely spoken to her all week." Vanessa's voice grew louder, drawing attention from nearby partygoers. "In fact, you've been avoiding her like she has the plague."

I tried to keep my voice calm and quiet. "Vanessa, I appreciate your concern, but Mia and I are fine. I've just been focused on the semifinals."

"No," she insisted, her volume increasing further. "You're not fine. You're faking it. You've been faking it this whole time, haven't you?"

The conversations around us began to dim as people tuned in to our exchange. I could feel eyes turning toward us, ears straining to catch the drama.

"That's ridiculous," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

Vanessa sensed weakness and pounced. "It is, isn't it? The timing was too convenient. Right when I was thinking of giving us another chance, suddenly you're dating the girl you were fighting with at practice?" She laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. "Come on, Ethan. Was it all just to make me jealous? To keep me away?"

The room had gone quiet now, dozens of eyes watching us. I glanced around, spotting Dylan by the doorway, his expression alarmed. Tyler stood near the kitchen, wincing as if watching a train wreck in slow motion.

And Mia—Mia stood frozen, her camera lowered, waiting for my response.

This was my moment to shut Vanessa down completely. To laugh off her accusation, cross the room to Mia, put my arm around her, and kiss her like I meant it. Like I had on the ski trip.

But I hesitated.

Maybe it was the pressure of the semifinals and Championship looming over me. Maybe it was the weight of my father's expectations. Maybe it was simple cowardice. Whatever the reason, I hesitated just a fraction too long.

And in that hesitation, I saw Mia's expression change. Something shuttered in her eyes, a door closing. Without a word, she turned and headed for the front door.

"Mia, wait!" I finally found my voice, pushing past Vanessa. "It's not—"

But she was already gone, the front door swinging closed behind her.

I followed, ignoring Vanessa's continued commentary behind me. By the time I reached the front yard, there was no sign of Mia. I pulled out my phone and began texting frantically.

Mia, I can explain.

It's not what you think.

Please call me.

Nothing.

I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. "Mia, it's me. Look, what Vanessa was saying—it's not true. I mean, yes, it started that way, but things changed. I changed. Please call me back."

I sank down onto the front steps, head in my hands. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. Everything was falling apart, and the semifinals was less than twenty-four hours away.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually, I felt someone settle beside me on the steps.

"So," Dylan said, handing me a beer, "that could have gone better."

I took the beer but didn't drink it. "I really messed up, didn't I?"

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