“No, you’re not,” he says, his voice firm. “And I hate seeing you like this.”
I look away, unable to meet his gaze. “What are we going to do? They all hate me.”
He’s silent for a moment, thinking. Then, he takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about them,” he admits. “I can try to fix parts of this but I need to know if you want to keep doing this. I don’t want to force you to do anything; you can back out right now and I’ll understand. I’ll still do everything I can to help you get a great job somewhere else.”
I blink at him, surprised. “You’d do that?”
“Of course,” he says. “I’m not a total monster, you know.”
I study him for a moment, then say, “No, I’m in this. I’m not going to give up because some people hurt my feelings.”
“Then let’s go on a real date,” he says. “Away from here, away from the gossip and rumors. Just you and me. If we’re going to do this, we need it not to be a miserable experience. I think we deserve some fun.”
He nods. “Yes. I want to cheer you up. And I think…I think we need to remind ourselves why we’re doing this. We’re friends, Lily. And friends help each other.”
I let out a small, watery giggle. “You’re right,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Okay, let’s do it. A real date.”
Thomas smiles, relief washing over his face. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
As he leaves the room, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe this date will help. Maybe it will remind us why we’re doing this. And maybe, just maybe, it will help me forget about the rumors, the whispers, and the icy glances. For one night, at least.
A text from Thomas pops up on my phone later that evening, telling me he’ll pick me up at eight and that I should wear a dress.
A dress. Okay. But what kind of dress? The kind that says, ‘I’m not trying too hard,’ or the kind that says, ‘I’m comfortable and confident’? Or the kind that says, ‘I’m a knockout—look at my body”? I stare at my closet, my mind a whirl of confusion. I want to look good, but not sexy like I’m trying to tempt him. Why do I even care so much? It’s not like it’s a real date.
Except it kind of is. And that thought sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss in the casino. The way his lips felt against mine, the heat that spread through my body. It was real, even if our relationship isn’t.
I grab my phone and dial Ally’s number. I need her advice, her grounding presence. She picks up on the second ring.
“Lily! What’s up?” she asks, her voice full of cheer.
“I need your help,” I admit, biting my lip. “I have a date with Thomas.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “A real date or a fake date?”
I sigh. “I don’t even know anymore, Ally. The lines are getting so blurry.”
She’s silent for a moment, then says, “Okay. Let’s figure this out. Show me your options.”
I spend the next hour showing Ally various outfits over video chat, her giving her input and advice. We finally settle on a simple but flattering black dress and a pair of comfortable heels. It’s casual but sexy, perfect for whatever Thomas has planned.
As I’m getting ready, Ally gives me a pep talk. “Remember, Lily, you’re in control here. You’re doing this for you, not for him. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re less than you are.”
I nod, taking her words to heart. “You’re right, Ally. I can do this.”
She smiles at me through the screen. “That’s the spirit. Now go knock him dead, girl.”
I laugh, feeling a little more confident. “Thanks, Ally. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She grins. “You’d probably be wearing sweatpants to your date.”
I roll my eyes but smile. Ally always knows how to lighten the mood. “All right, I’ll call you later. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Lily. You’ve got this.”
As I end the call, I take a deep breath, looking at myself in the mirror. I can do this. I can go on this date and keep up the act. And I won’t feel a thing.
thirteen