Page 29 of The Boyfriend Swap

I turned onto my side with my back facing Will. “Nothing.” I stifled another laugh.

“You do that a lot, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Humor yourself.”

“I’m very funny.”

He said, “I agree,” and I could almost hear him smile.

I grinned into my pillow. “Thanks for being so great today. I was worried, but you’re good at this.” I swallowed hard. “Pretending to like me, I mean.”

“It’s not hard.” Silence filled the room for a moment until he clarified, “Pretending to like you, I mean.”

Even with my back to Will and the lights off, I blushed. “Goodnight, Will.”

“Night, Snow.”

We didn’t speak after that and for the next few minutes, I was fully aware of the sound of my breathing and worried it was keeping Will awake. This had the unfortunate result of my breathing harder and silently willing myself to fall asleep. Even without looking at Will, I knew when he was no longer awake from the rhythm of his breaths and finally felt my body relax as well. Just as I was about to drift off, I sat up abruptly. I hadn’t texted Perry all night. I knew he wanted to remain in character as much as possible, but I missed him. Hoping it wasn’t too late, I removed my phone from the dresser and sent him a text asking how things were going. While I waited for his return text, I checked my email. There was one from Lance. I gasped when I read the subject line: Budget cuts?

Hey Robyn,

I hate to be a buzzkill, and I planned to wait until January to bring this up, but I’m freaking out and you’re the only one who would understand. I was in the teachers’ lounge yesterday and overheard Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Philips whispering about budget cuts in elective studies like music. Have you heard anything about this? From one music teacher to another, can we talk?

Lance

So much for sparing him from the stress I was under. I bit back a sob as a wave of exhaustion washed over me. The day felt way longer than twenty-four hours. Unprepared to respond, I closed out the email and placed my phone next to me on the bed. I tried not to give too much credence to the rumor when I’d only heard it from Lynn, but the band teacher telling me he overheard two other members of the school staff discussing budget cuts was more difficult to dismiss. I glanced over at Will, who was sleeping soundly, and debated waking him up to vent. But what good would it do? Despite his physical proximity, he wasn’t my boyfriend. It would be a stretch to even call him a “friend.” My phone beeped a return text from Perry as if confirming my decision not to wake Will.

“The Bellows are like the Quartermaines fromGeneral Hospital. Sidney’s dad actually drinks brandy in the afternoon. Too bad none of the soap operas are filmed in New York anymore because I’d be perfect as the prodigal daughter’s boyfriend from the other side of the tracks. Don’t you think?”

I laughed quietly and typed my response. “A few of the shows were set in the Philadelphia suburbs. And I agree you’d be great.”Right as I pressed “send” I received another new one from him.

“How are you?”

I frowned and wrote him back. “Tired, but having a good time. The parental figures are not at all suspicious about Will.” It would have made sense to tell Perry about Lance’s email, but considering how little comfort he’d provided when I first broached the topic of budget cuts, I didn’t bother.

“I hope he’s keeping his hands to himself.”

I looked over at Will, who appeared to be in a deep sleep and free of all the worries that clogged my brain space, both personal and professional. I wrote back, “No worries. He’s on his best behavior. I hope Sidney is being a good hostess and things are going according to plan.”

Perry responded in less than a minute. “It is! Sidney’s parents love me. I miss you, but things are going so well.”

My heart felt lighter knowing at least Perry was having a good time. Maybe Sidney’s plan would work after all. I wrote back that I missed him too and fell back against my pillow. This time, sleep came quickly.

Chapter 8

Sidney

When my alarm went off at seven thirty the next morning, I immediately bolted out of bed and changed into my workout clothes to run around the property. It was Christmas Eve and I wanted to burn some calories to make room for the next two nights of gluttony. After slipping a pair of suede earmuffs on my head, attaching my iPod to an armband, and confirming the laces of my Brooks sneakers were double knotted, I let myself out of the house without checking to see if anyone else was even awake. I wanted to finish my run before Perry woke up so I could keep him out of trouble, but I had a feeling he’d sleep until noon.

While I ran my four-mile path, I passed gated fences which led to neighboring estates like my parents’, as well as still-undeveloped land on the market for potential buyers or real estate investors. My feet pounded against the well-paved streets, and I could see my breath in front of me thanks to the arctic temperature outside. Preferring a treadmill at the gym to running outside, I fought my desire to turn around after only two miles. I was glad I didn’t quit when, just as I reached the bottom of the driveway at the end of my run, I came up with the perfect plan to avoid extended time with my parents over the course of the afternoon. I would tell them I had last-minute shopping to do at the mall and drag Perry with me. The way he’d behaved the night before was unacceptable. It was as if he was infected with a disease that caused him to take everything I said and respond with the complete opposite. He was like a wild animal, and if I couldn’t control him, I needed to put him on a leash.

I’d ditch him as soon as we arrived at the mall so we could do our own thing. Therewerea few belated items I needed to pick up and I also wanted to check my work email without my dad hovering over me. Perry could organize a flash mob in the food court for all I cared, as long as he stayed out of my way and had some distance from my parents. We’d conveniently get home from the mall with just enough time to clean up for dinner. The Bellows’ Christmas Eve celebration was a more intimate version of Christmas—only one third of the guests, most blood relatives of either my mother or father.

Breathing heavily as I entered my house, it took me a few moments to notice the uncharacteristic morning chatter coming from the kitchen. After stretching my calves and hamstrings in the foyer, I followed the noise and stopped short at the sight before me—my parents and Perry were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and gabbing like old friends. My parents were dressed in casual day-wear, but Perry was wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and he had a significant case of bedhead that, annoyingly, he wore well. He was waving around his coffee mug, clearly in the midst of an anecdote, and had my parents’ rapt attention.

I stood at the edge of the room dumbfounded, one foot on the slate floor of the kitchen and the other still planted on the glass mosaic tile of the hallway, until Perry noticed me and smiled big.

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