Page 19 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
Because maybe a little bit of risk is all we need to win.
CHAPTER SIX
Having Maya on my side is a very valuable asset. There’s no way I would’ve decided to help Julian without an ulterior motive, but if I had, it would’ve been hell to keep that secret on my own.
Maya and I carefully construct a message to Julian asking him to meet tomorrow afternoon. Before I can sell my soul, I need to know more about what I’m getting into and convince him to give me what I need in return. A quick search through Julian’s social media doesn’t give us much relevant info. We learn that he’s captain of the lacrosse team and the tennis team, and he founded the Everly Prep Asian Student Association. And can speak four languages. Just imagining what his schedule must be like makes me dizzy.
Julian agrees to meet me at Dixon’s, the infamous delithat gave me and Dad food poisoning. It’s the one place I know no one in my family will come within ten feet of. Even Isabel and Andy know all about the food poisoning saga.
Maya makes up an excuse for me when I head out, telling the others I’m taking reference pictures of the lake for a painting class next semester. My suggestion that we say I’m on a hike was quickly shot down. She made a good point. Why would I—someone who almost failed gym twice—go on a hike of my own volition?
Once I’ve safely escaped our cabin, I throw on a baseball cap, lift the hood of my sweatshirt, and power walk as quickly as I can. The sun clings to my black ensemble, beating down on me even when I manage to find some patches of shade. I’m dripping sweat, seconds from collapsing, when Dixon’s finally comes into view. It’s the first time I’ve ever been happy to see the godforsaken place. I jog the last bit of the way, bursting into the deliciously air-conditioned entryway with a sigh of relief.
No sign of Julian yet.
“You gonna order?” a voice barks from behind the counter.
Patience is not a part of the customer service philosophy at Dixon’s. If you don’t order within thirty seconds, you might as well leave. The owners, elderly brothers that five-year-old Devin and Maya dubbed Mario and Luigi due to their thick, bushy mustaches and dramatically different heights, almost bullied us out of the shop when Mami had the nerve to ask for her salad dressing on the side. Thankfully I don’t have to worry about either of them whisperingabout my little rendezvous with Julian to the remaining town gossips. They never cared about the vacationers before, and I can’t imagine they’re going to start now.
Mario is as crabby and his mustache as thick as I remember. At least some things are still the same. He taps his foot impatiently.
“I’ll take a water.”
Mario mutters something under his breath as he heads toward the fridge to grab a bottle.
“I promise I’ll get something else too!” I tack on before darting to the bathroom. No way he’d let me stick around without ordering something worth at least $5. Maybe soup? I can’t think of any death-by-contaminated-soup horror stories off the top of my head.
In the bathroom, I peel off my soaked hoodie, wringing out the dank stench of sweat as best I can before tucking it into my backpack. The hat and oversized sunglasses I pull out of my bag aren’t exactly a foolproof disguise, but it’ll do for now.
By the time I leave the bathroom, sweat-tacky and flushed down to my toes, Julian is sitting at a nearby table. He waves me down, pushing his bag off the seat across from him. He eyes the sweat stain lining the collar of my T-shirt but keeps any snarky comments to himself. His phone buzzes on the table as I sit down across from him, a photo of his mom lighting up the screen.
“Sorry,” he says under his breath before sending the call to voice mail and shoving his phone into his pocket. “I didn’t think you’d actually show.”
“Should I not have?”
He shakes his head, toying with one of the takeout menus between us. “No, I’m glad you’re here. I get why you wouldn’t want to trust me.”
“I’m still not sure that I do.”
Julian nods, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “That’s fair.”
Mario interrupts us, bustling over to our table to remind me that I’ll have to leave if I don’t order anything else. Julian orders a foot-long turkey sub before I can open my mouth, handing him a twenty and telling him to keep the change. Thank God Julian’s a chronic over-tipper. Mario nods, tucking the money away with a pleased smile before shuffling back to the counter.
“To be clear, I haven’t made up my mind yet,” I clarify once he’s out of earshot. “I just want to know more.”
“About?”
“This.” I wave my hand at the space between us. “How it will work. Howwewill work.”
Julian props his chin up on his hand. “I don’t know. Like any other couple?”
I hold back a scoff. “Except that we’re not like any other couple.”
“I’m not asking you to call me pookie and get my name tattooed on your chest. You just have to stand there and not look like you’d rather die.”
I don’t hold back my scoff this time. “Easier said than done.”
We stay silent until Mario returns with a glass of waterfor Julian and the three-dollar bottle I ordered when I walked in. I watch Julian fold, unfold, and refold his straw wrapper. “If we’re going to do this, then I want something out of it.”
