Page 36 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
Dad hums, taking a drawn-out sip of his beer. “Well, Dev, you know the rules. If he comes over, your door stays open and he leaves by eight. If you’re meeting up, make sure you’re back home by ten.”
I nod so quickly it makes me light-headed, pinching Julian’s arm until he does too. I can’t imagine Dad’s rules will be an issue, considering I don’t plan on spending any more time with Julian than I have to. There’ll be no climbing through windows, or sneaking through back doors, or covering the smell of alcohol on my breath and the shape of a boy’s lips on my neck.
But just when I think we’re out of the woods, Dad turns his attention to Julian, eyes narrowed. “And if you eventhinkabout trying to hurt my son, I’ll kick your ass into next year.” He points his butter knife at Julian as menacingly as a balding middle-aged man can.
Julian audibly gulps. Dad’s never had to play the Big Bad Authority Figure card with me before. Maya, the cool twin, is the one he had to chase down with threats of grounding. While she spent her high school career staying out past curfew and exploring her pansexuality with actual people, I spent mine Googling “how do I know if I’m bi” and perpetually single.
“Y-yes, sir,” Julian stammers out.
Julian’s already clammy hand becomes even more unpleasantly damp, nearly slipping out of my grip when I giveit a reassuring squeeze. God, his hands are gross. But I fight the urge to pull away, tightening my grip instead and slapping on yet another fake, plastic smile and gazing at Julian like he’s the most perfect mistake I’ve ever made.
Julian doesn’t stay for the dessert, not that I give him a choice. I bustle him away from the table the second our plates are cleared, insisting that he needs to go home and get some rest. Julian follows my lead, waving to everyone and thanking Isabel for the meal. We linger in the doorway while he pulls his jacket on, unsure of how to say goodbye to one another.
“Are they looking?” I whisper.
He peeks over my shoulder. “Just your stepmom.”
“I guess we should…hug or something?”
Before I can propose something, Julian leans forward and presses a kiss to my cheek that’s close enough to my mouth to make my heart stutter. “Was that okay?”
My skin burns, white-hot and angry. Like an allergic reaction. “Y-yeah, that was okay.”
“Cool.” He nods. “Wanna come over tomorrow? To work on your art stuff.”
“Yep, great, bye,” I sputter before slamming the door right in Julian’s face.
While Andy and Maya bicker over dessert, I excuse myself and head straight for my room. Between having to cover my ass and unraveling the mystery that is Julian Seo-Cooke, I’ve had enough excitement for one night.
In the safety of my room, I collapse against the door andexhale slowly, trying to calm my racing heart. I can’t tell if it’s the belated surge of adrenaline or fear, but my skin is all tingles, my stomach is in knots, and I really,reallydon’t like feeling this way. The worst part is knowing that it’s nowhere near over yet. I still have to survive braving his fortress of a house.
When I open my eyes again, I catch sight of a new addition to the room. A picture of me and Mami in the backyard. Me in her arms, Maya running from the kitchen to join us. The memory wraps around me like her arms—the scent of lake water on my skin, the sound of Maya’s giggles as she tackled me and Mami to the ground. Grass staining our clothes, the brightest joy in our smiles.
I exhale slowly, running a finger along the edge of the frame. Dust floats free, and the memory becomes replaced by the image of our cabin in pieces. Nothing left of it but dust in the air.
My heart doesn’t slow, but it races with purpose this time. If this is what it takes to win, so be it.
We’ve lost enough.
CHAPTER TEN
Either I forgot what the inside of the Seo-Cookes’ house looks like, or it tripled in size. I’m a whole lot taller than the last time they let us onto the premises, but the sprawling twenty-foot-high ceilings are as daunting at eighteen as they were when I was five. The dramatic oil painting of the family hanging in the foyer is definitely new, though.
“Watch it,” Stella warns when I lean in to get a closer look at the portrait. “Henry knocked that over once and got grounded for a month.”
I quickly step back. Lord knows what Mr. Cooke would think up to punish me. Stella returns to filing her nails once I’m a safe distance away. She’d called Julian down after she opened the door for me, but apparently she doesn’t trust me enough to leave me in the foyer alone.
Since I can’t stand still when I’m nervous, I make my way to a less prized possession. I wander over to the pictureframes hanging beneath the winding staircase, a timeline of the Seo-Cookes’ childhood. On closer inspection, it’s clear that, with the exception of a shot of Henry and Julian as toddlers wearing matching bowl cuts, Mrs. Seo is missing from all of the photos. Shocker: Mr. Cooke handles breakups as well as Maya does.
“Hey,” Julian greets as he comes down the stairs, dressed in a T-shirt and the type of low-hanging sweatpants that always look terrible on me but look runway-ready on him.
Stella relieves herself of her watch post to block his path when he makes it to the last step, holding her hand out for payment.
He groans, reaching into his pocket. “I didn’t ask you to watch him.”
“But I did,” she insists, accepting the red package he slaps into her hand and brushing past him to head up the staircase.
Julian rolls his eyes as he crosses the staircase over to me. “Sorry about the guard dog. I’ll call her off next time,” he says before tossing me the same red foil package he’d paid Stella off with.
