Page 47 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
“You don’t have to do this.” Julian’s brown eyes glisten with flecks of gold, the sheen of tears threatening to burst.
I look away quickly. I’ve always hated crying in public, and I’ve done a hell of a lot of it over the past few years. I always wished everyone would look away and pretend they didn’t see me. I try to extend the favor whenever I can.
“I know,” I reply. “But I want to.”
I wait on eggshells for Julian to reply or break down or lash out, but the only thing between us is the sound of crickets and the tension of things left unsaid.
“If you want to be alone, I’ll go home,” I say when I don’t get a response. “Pinky swear this time.” I hold out my pinky.
He breaks the tension with the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard, pushing my hand back down to my side. “It’s okay. Wouldn’t kill me to have some company.”
I nod.
“So, where do you wanna go?” I ask, gesturing to the sleepy glow of the lake.
Julian heads in the opposite direction of our street.
“Anywhere but here.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Anywhere but here” doesn’t wind up being far from where we started. I don’t have enough strength left to make it any farther than half a mile, so we settle for the most secluded place I can think of.
The pier isn’t exactly private. Anyone could stumble upon it if they made a wrong turn off the path toward Fulton Drive, but it’s close enough. It’s in surprisingly good condition considering no one’s in charge of maintaining it. Weeds and overgrown bushes have sprouted since we were last here, but flowers have bloomed along the shoreline too. Dozens of dandelions and a small smattering of irises. The sagging branches of the willow tree hiding the pier from view is still holding strong, its leaves as warm, vibrant, and green as I remember. I hold my arm up before Julian can step onto the dock, cautiously leaning my weight on a worn plank of wood. It doesn’t buckle under the pressure, unlike our front steps.
“How do you know about this place?” Julian asks as he props the bike up against a nearby tree.
I make myself comfortable, kicking off my shoes and lying flat along the edge of the pier, dipping my toes into the water. “My mom found it,” I whisper. The words come out soft—a secret I don’t have the right to tell.
This alcove has belonged to her since she and Dad discovered it our second year at the lake. It was her secret weapon, a place she could take me or Maya whenever we threw one of our tantrums. Nothing settled us down like one-on-one time with her. As if some part of us knew the time we did have was fleeting.
Julian sits beside me once he’s kicked off his shoes, leaning on his elbows to look up at the first budding stars. There’s a welcome silence as we adjust to the concept of being alone together. When I close my eyes, it’s as if nothing has changed. Lake Andreas is alive again, buzzing with excitement as the day winds down. But the sound of Julian’s voice is a stark reminder of how different things are now.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as he lies back.
“Like I was hit by a truck.” I rub at one of the bites on my wrist. “A truck filled with mosquitoes.”
He chuckles, stretching his arms behind his head. “I promise I’ll never make you go anywhere near a bike again.”
“It was for the best,” I admit with a sigh. “Every year my mom would say, ‘That’s it, it’s time you two learn how to ride bikes,’ but she never got around to it.”
Julian takes his time before replying, “I’m sorry.”
“Eh, she was a busy lady.”
“No.” Julian sits up on his elbows. “I meant about…y’know.Her.”
“That she died?”
Julian nods, cheeks visibly pink even in the pale moonlight.
“You don’t have to apologize; you didn’t kill her. Unless you invented ovarian cancer. In which case, fuck you.”
The joke is lost on him.
“Sorry, I’m just messing with you.” I knock my bare ankle against his calf. “Though the Suck-o incidentdidtake five years off all of our lives,” I tease, but the way his brow furrows says it’s gone over his head again.
He turns to look at me. “The what incident?”
