Page 31 of The Faking Game

“We need pen and paper.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Consider it another stop on your tour.”

I follow him down the adjoining hallway and through the large oak door.

The library is huge.

It has a high ceiling, twice as high as a normal room in the house. There’s a ladder along the dark wooden bookshelves leading up to a mezzanine. A frayed oriental carpet covers most of the floor, and several leather couches are centered in the corner around a stone fireplace. The other side has a pool table with a rich velvet cloth.

There’s a bar cart too. Tucked into the corner with an array of liquor on it.

The library looks like something out of an old film set. I love it immediately and follow him into the old space.

West doesn’t seem floored.

He walks to an ornate desk and grabs a notepad and pen out of one of the drawers. He hands it to me. “Write a list of everything about dating that makes you uncomfortable. Everything you want to practice.”

“You’re…” I look down at the piece of paper and back up at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he says. “Look, you don’t like me, right? You’ve made that clear. So you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. You can practice rejecting me over and over again, if you need to.”

There’s a weird kind of logic to it.

I take the pen he’s holding out. Thick steel, engraved.Calloway Holdings.

“There’s no way you’re going to agree to this,” I say. “There’s no wayI’magreeing to this.”

“Then we’ll negotiate for it.” His voice is gruff. “If we’re going to pretend to be a couple anyway, why the hell not? Might as well get something you need out of it.”

Why not, indeed.

I write things down. My handwriting is sloped and slightly sharper than usual. I get granular. It’s pathetic, really, to see it all written down, but I’m past caring. I want to prove to him just howlittlehe will want to do this.

When I talk about practicing dating, I mean it. Everything.

The dinner or the drinks. The conversations. Saying no, saying yes. The way they look at me, their hands on my waist, the conversation. And then the goodbye.

I write that up and underline it. The damn goodbye after a date. When I just want to leave, but they want to linger, looking at me with those intenseI’m about to kiss youeyes. I even add that to the list.

I glance over at West while I’m writing. He’s leaned back, eyes on my pen. His eyebrows are drawn down low.

“That’s all?” he drawls, looking at where my pen’s stalled.

“No.” I add a few more points.Rejecting a man in person. Pushing him away if he tries to kiss me. Rejecting a man over text. Arguing.

That part I won’t mind practicing with West.

Handling conflict without running away. Setting boundaries.

Receiving and accepting compliments and gifts.

Going out on romantic dates.

Asking for what I want.

Zeina’s words ring in my head. She wants me to practice being present and showing my true self, not the version I think they want to see.

Being authentic,I add.

There’s more I could write.Kissing. Making out. Having sex.

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