Page 92 of Faking It with the Forward

It’s mid-afternoon and the coffee shop is packed with students grabbing caffeine to get through the rest of the day. Nadia and I managed to snag a small table in the corner. I’d brought her with me for support, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to bail.

“It’s too soon.”

“No,” she says, taking a sip of her mocha, “it’s the perfect time. It’s why there are all those sayings like, ‘If you fall off a horse get back on,’ or my personal favorite, ‘the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.’”

“I want to ask Logan to the fundraiser,” I say, wiping the condensation off the side of my ice coffee, “not get under him.”

“Not yet.” She winks.

This is the fundamental difference between me and Nadia. She’s already moved on from the situation with CJ, like it never happened. In fact, when I got home last night from practice, she was already at a party with some guy from the baseball team.

“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.” Across the café, Logan steps in, hair disheveled and cheeks red from the wind. He looks around, eyes brightening when he sees me. He waves, gesturing that he’s going to get in line. I nod back. “Reese and I are definitely over, but I’m not sure I’m ready to get involved with anyone else.”

“You’re inviting him to a school-sanctioned event. It’s not a commitment of any kind. You need a date and he’s a nice guy who will look hot in a suit and make you look good to your boss. He checks all the boxes.” She stands, grabbing her coffee. “Don’t let your breakup with Reese send you into another two-year hibernation.”

She’s right. I agreed to fake date Reese in the first place so I could actually have a social life and get the courage to meet guys and go on dates. The last thing I want is to go back to being invisible. If one thing can come from this disaster, it would be for me to use the skills he taught me.

“Go get him,” she says, slipping out the back door.

Thankfully, before I can talk myself into following her, Logan walks up. “Hey,” he says, pulling out the chair. He shrugs out of a charcoal gray coat and hangs it on the back. “Sorry I was late, some guy in my Econ class wouldn’t stop asking questions.”

“Let me guess, second career?”

“Yes!” He shakes his head. “How did you know?”

“It’s just something I’ve noticed.” I watch Logan dump a packet of sugar into his coffee. “Older students—the ones that are paying for their own classes–definitely seem to want to get their money’s worth.”

“Same. I get it, but sometimes I just want to leave class early,” he grins, “and hang out with this cool chick I know.”

“Well,” I say, hoping my cheeks aren’t too red, “Nadia and I needed to go over some stuff for our history of rock class anyway.”

“Oh, you got in that class?” He settles back in his chair. “I’ve heard it’s really interesting.”

“I’ve enjoyed it, but so far no New Kings.” I smile. “Guess they’re too contemporary.”

“Have you ever heard their cover of Elvis’ Suspicious Minds?” he asks. “It’s epic.”

“Oh my god, yes, it’s so good.”

Logan is easy to talk to—at least about our favorite band. It’s not a hardship. I can fangirl about them for hours. I feel the tension of the week loosening as we discuss our favorite songs and the playlists for the concert. “I still can’t believe I didn’t get tickets.”

His cup hovers in front of his mouth. “Have you tried the resellers?”

“Yeah, way out of my price range.”

“I wish we’d known one another when they went on sale. I totally would’ve bought you one.” He sets his cup back on the table. “And to be honest, I’d definitely rather go with you than my roommate Trent.”

His comment is easy enough–transparent enough that I finally blurt, “I have a confession.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What have you done, Twyler Perkins?”

“I may have invited you to coffee for ulterior motives.”

“Now I’m definitely intrigued.”

“That may just be my way of tricking you into thinking what I’m about to ask you is interesting.” I take a deep breath. “I have this fundraising event—an athletic alumni thing—this weekend. I have to go as part of my internship, but I can bring a… guest. I wondered if you’d be interested in going.”

Clutching his cup between his hands, he asks, “What about the hockey player? Is he going to be there?”

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