Page 22 of Fake As Puck
“My friends are excited to meet you,” I say, desperate for a distraction from whatever’s happening in my brain. “They’re curious about my mysterious girlfriend.”
“Mysterious?” she asks.
“I didn’t mention any names until the other day.”
“So, they know my name? Not your ex?”
I shake my head.
She gives me a look I can’t quite read, then reaches for another slice. I grab another one too because it’s awkward and I don’t know how to act.
We lapse into silence, and I realize we’re both just standing here, eating pizza and trying to navigate this bizarre situation I’ve created.
My phone buzzes. I glance at it and see another message from the group chat. I flip the phone face down without responding.
“Your friends?” Liv asks.
“Yeah. They won’t stop talking about you.”
“About meeting me?”
“About me having a girlfriend. They were starting to think I was hopeless.”
“Were you?”
“Was I what?”
“Hopeless.”
I look at her, standing in my kitchen, eating pizza with honey mustard, and I realize I don’t know how to answer that question.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Maybe.”
Something shifts in her expression, but before I can figure out what it is, she’s reaching for another slice.
“Well,” she says, “lucky for you, I’m an excellent fake girlfriend.”
“Yeah?”
“The best. I’m going to be so convincing that your friends will think you’re actually capable of maintaining a relationship.”
“That’s setting the bar pretty high.”
“I’m up for the challenge.”
She finishes her second slice and looks at the remaining pizza boxes. “We’re never going to finish all this food.”
“Leftovers.”
“For a week.”
“I like leftovers.”
“You like carbs.”
“I’m a hockey player. Carbs are life.”
She laughs, and it’s the first genuine laugh I’ve heard from her all day. It makes something warm spread through my chest.
