Page 22 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
“That doesn’t mean thebookis pretentious.”
Julian wordlessly pulls out his phone. Seconds later he shoves it in my face, pulled up to an article listing the top twenty most pretentious books in American literature.Catcher in the Ryeis number one.
It takes every bit of strength I have left in me not to shove my fork into Julian’s thick skull. Mario and Luigi glare at us, gripping their mops like they’re ready to step in if Julian and I come to blows. I sit up straighter, using Maya’s breathing techniques to help compose myself.
“Favorite band?” I ask, calming down.
“New Nostalgia,” he replies. All right, good, an actual answer—even if I have no idea who New Nostalgia is. “They’re this indie rock band from Leeds,” he adds.
I make a mental note to Google them and move on to the next topic. “Favorite TV show?”
Julian ducks his head sheepishly. I can tell by the color rising in his cheeks that he’s going to give me another unhelpful answer. “I don’t really have time to watch TV.”
I let my head fall to the table with a clunk. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but this is painful. “Do you have time to do anything fun in your life?” The question comes out without thinking. I swore I would play nice this time but bickering with Julian is second nature to me.
“Not really. Dad always told me TV rots your brain,” he whispers, tearing his napkin into strips. “That’s something I want to change, though.”
“Rotting your brain?”
He shakes his head, lowering his eyes. “Listening to my dad.”
He peeks up at me from beneath full lashes, turning away when I meet his gaze. I bite my lip, unsure of what to do. I could play the supportive soon-to-be-fake-boyfriend, tell him everything will be okay even though I have no idea if it will be.
Fortunately, he changes the topic before I can put my foot in my mouth. “Favorite flavor of ice cream?”
The question catches me off guard, but the shy smile budding on Julian’s lips makes my chest feel less tight. I laugh, half out of relief and half because the absurdity of our situation is finally setting in. “Mint chocolate. You?”
“Vanilla.”
I don’t call him boring for picking the blandest possible flavor. Instead, I nod, take another bite, and move on.
See? Progress.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julian’s going to kill me.
In my defense, I didn’t think it would take over thirty minutes for Lyft to find a driver in my area. After twenty minutes of waiting in the dark with nothing but owls and mosquitoes for company, I was ready to walk the two and a half miles myself. Finally Danny and his blue Honda SUV came to the rescue. He doesn’t even mind when I start changing into a new outfit in the backseat. Five stars.
The Hillsdale Country Club is as intimidating as I thought it would be. The marble entryway looks like it’s been plucked from a villa along the French Riviera. A man in a well-cut suit appears at my side after I drop off my backpack at the coat check, holding out a tray with a single champagne flute.
“Oh, I’m not twenty-one.”
“My apologies.” He sets the tray down on the entry table,pulling a fresh flute practically out of thin air. “Sparkling cider?”
I warily accept the cider, letting the man usher me into the main dining room. Didn’t Julian say this was supposed to be a low-key affair?
Dozens of waiters skate across the room with trays of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A cellist is setting up in one corner while a man decked out in a full tux—cummerbund, tails, and all—takes a seat at a baby grand piano in the center of the room.
“Low-key, my ass,” I mutter, leaning up on my tiptoes to scan the room for any sign of Julian.
None of the people here look familiar, but based on their designer handbags, suits, and dresses, I clearly missed the memo about the dress code. That’s on me, though. I should’ve known that a dinosaur-print button-down wouldn’t cut it at a country club. A passing waiter gives me a suspicious look, whispering behind a gloved hand to the man from the entryway. The men exchange shrugs after looking me up and down, as confused by my presence as I am.
I need to find Julian before they smell the fraud on me.
Julian suddenly appears at my side, pulling me toward a more secluded area of the dining room. “You’re late.”
“My bad, I didn’t realize how long it would take to get here.”
