Page 65 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
He marvels at the drawing now that I’ve given it to him, blinking up at me with wide eyes.
Looking down at Julian, the real one, as the sun finally reaches us, his skin dewy and golden, I find the courage to say one of the hundreds of things I wanted to but couldn’t.
“I made this list last year.” I dig my phone out of my pocket, pulling open my Notes app. “Things I wanted to do in LA.” Julian rolls over to watch me scroll up through allthe restaurants Andy added, back up to the title of the list: DEVIN’S GREAT CALIFORNIA ADVENTURE.
“I haven’t had a chance to cross anything off yet,” I say as I scroll through the most touristy section: see the Hollywood sign, find Shrek’s star on the Walk of Fame, look at the stores on Rodeo Drive (but don’t go in, they’ll know you’re a broke college student). “Turns out art school is way harder and time-consuming than people think.”
He gives methatsmile. The one that makes every thought that isn’t about him feel enormously insignificant.
If I were a stronger person, I’d lean down and kiss him until the sun finishes rising. Then kiss him again and again until we’re back to where we began: alone in the middle of the night with the only person who matters.
But I’m not that person, so instead I say, “I thought maybe we could check some of them out. Before the concert. Or after. If you want.”
I’m worried I’ll break when he doesn’t reply, reminding myself that he still doesn’t owe me kindness after this afternoon. He takes my phone, sitting up and typing something before handing it back. He updated the title of the list.
DEVIN & JULIAN’S GREAT CALIFORNIA ADVENTURE
He smiles, knocking his knee against mine when my lips part. “I’d like that.”
And, somehow, those three words make me feel more than any kiss ever has.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Grudges are Maya’s thing. She excels in many areas—hairstyling, dancing, knowing everything about everyone—but this is her specialty. One of the girls from her middle school clique accidentally forgot to text her an invitation to a sleepover; they haven’t spoken since. After the “girls can’t marry girls” incident with Titi Rosa, Maya refuses to acknowledge her existence.
Being on the receiving end of one of her grudges is daunting. She ices me out from training before the final crunch and avoids me in common areas as best she can. Usually I wouldn’t question getting out of physical activity, but it feels like the final nail in my coffin. I’m not on our team anymore.
Instead, I spend my morning researching how long I can survive without food or water. Maya practically bites my head off every time we so much as breathe the same air for too long, so my best bet is staying in my room for as long aspossible. According to Google, I have four days to either suck it up and learn to coexist with her in communal spaces or find a way to harvest rainwater so I don’t die of dehydration.
My cavalry comes in the form of a text message from Julian.
Want to come over?
We don’t usually hang out on Wednesdays, but anything is better than sitting in my room contemplating starvation. While heading to Julian’s doesn’t exactly help my case with Maya, I can’t bring myself to care. The past few days have been shitty, and I’m not walking away from the one thing that could make it worthwhile.
Julian’s waiting for me on the deck, leaning against the back door. While he’s not wearing his usual name-brand athleisure, his more standard jeans-and-a-button-down outfit is still more upscale than most of my wardrobe. His shirt does have tiny penguins on it, though. It’s really cute, and I feel very catered to.
He perks up the moment he spots me, pushing off the door to meet me halfway. “Hi!”
“Hi,” I reply, taking a second longer than I should to admire his bone structure.
He runs a self-conscious hand along his jaw. “Is there something on my face?”
“No,” I answer quickly, my neck growing uncomfortably warm. “You, um…you look really nice.” He always looks nice, and based on how hell-bent he is on proving that I think he’s hot, he knows that. But when you’re as perpetuallynervous as I am, paying compliments always feels like pulling teeth.
Yet he smiles like he doesn’t know it, his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink. “Thank you. You do too.”
“Is there a reason you’re out here waiting for me?” I ask. “Didn’t think I could make it across the yard on my own?”
His left brow arches and the corners of his lips curl impishly. “There were some coyote sightings last week, and I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re the slowest runner in your family.”
That shouldnotbe common knowledge. Leave it to Maya to spread the news that I’m terrible at exercise.
“I have a surprise for you, actually,” Julian clarifies before I can reply.
It’s my turn to raise a brow. “You have my attention.”
“It’s nothing super exciting, just something I thought might be fun—I mean, not fun—cool. Wait, not cool—”
