Page 49 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

He elbows me. “Someone’s grumpy. What’s wrong, sis? Asher not texting you back?”

My cheeks burn so hot I’m surprised the popcorn isn’t popping again. “Stop it.”

Asher did text me. Said he was grabbing lunch at Marnie’s and asked if I wanted my usual. Like it was any other day. Like I didn’t just have a full-blown relapse of the childhood crush I thought I’d buried years ago, and nearly hijacking my common sense yesterday.

I told him I’d already eaten. Which was only kind of true. If you count three spoonfuls of yogurt and a whole lot of emotional avoidance as a meal.

“Ooh, touchy subject? Come on, spill. What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing.” I sink deeper into the couch cushions. Nothing’s happening, nothing can happen.

Mom pipes up, wearing that too-casual expression she gets when she’s about to meddle. “You know, I ran into Margaret at the grocery store yesterday. She said it’s a mystery how you and Asher still aren’t a thing.”

“Mom!” I groan, burying my face in my hands. The ultimate betrayal. Ambushed by my own mother.

Victor chuckles. “You two have always been close. It’s only natural—”

“Not you too!” I peek through my fingers, feeling like I’m facing a firing squad of matchmakers.

Conner grins. “Face it, Izzy. You and Asher are practically an old married couple already. Just without the, you know, marriage part. Or the couple part.”

“We’re friends,” I insist, my voice muffled by my hands. My heart does this stupid little squeeze at the word “friends,” like it’s personally offended by the label.

“Sure, sure,” Conner nods sagely. “But it’s pretty absurd that you’re matching him with someone else.”

“He agreed too! I mean, I asked if he needed my help, and he agreed.”

“Right. Because helping your best friend date someone else is a totally normal way to keep your feelings in check.”

I scowl. “I don’t have feelings.”

“You sure about that?”

I open my mouth to retort, but the words die on my tongue. Conner’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What? No comeback? You must really like him.”

“I have a date!” I blurt out, desperate to change the subject.

The room goes silent. Even the commentators on TV seem to pause.

Conner freezes with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth. “You what?”

“A date,” I repeat, snatching the popcorn from his hand. “With someone who’s not Asher.”

“Oh? Who’s the lucky guy?” Mom leans forward, casually scooping another handful from the bowl like this is the best reality show she’s seen in weeks.

I fidget with the hem of my shirt. “I don’t know yet. It’s, um, being arranged by Diane.”

Conner straightens, his fingers curling into loose fists. “Diane? Your competition? You’re letting her set you up?”

“How—” I blink. “You’ve only been back two days. How do you know about Diane?”

“Because there are people who care aboutyou, dummy,” Conner says, his usual smirk softening. “Did you really think I wouldn’t check up on my favorite twin while I was away?”

“I’m your only twin.”

“Details,” he waves dismissively.

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