Page 26 of The C*ck Down the Block

Oh no. Okay, first of all, the story had made it all the way to Thailand? And trying to explain what was going on to my mother in a text message wasn’t going to work.

Hey, Mom, let’s Facetime when you have a chance. Say hi to Dad for me.

That was way too vague-booky, but I really didn’t want to say more that could be construed as something it wasn’t. It was too easy to read tone in text that wasn’t there. Sigh. If ever a needed a chat with my mom, it was right now. She would have been able to tell me to pull my head out of my ass, but in her power mom who knew how to help me in the best I-love-you way.

Just as I was ready to sign off, my texts dinged again. It was from Chris.

You, me, Mountaineers baseball game tomorrow night. You in?

Was this our next fake date? A pro baseball game was way more public than the rooster rescue. But maybe that’s what we needed. A venue where we couldn’t just be our same old goofy selves, but not entirely in the spotlight either. Then we could practice being boyfriend and girlfriend better.

I texted back.

I’m in. Have you seen the pics of us in the tabloids?

The three little dots that indicated he was typing popped up, disappeared, and popped back up again. Either he had a lot to say about those pics or didn’t know what to say.

Nope. I learned not to look a long time ago. Don’t pay them any mind. I promise they have nothing to say that you or I care about.

And that’s what I adored about him. So famous he should be on a box of Wheaties and didn’t seem to even notice that the entire world wanted to know who he was dating. Or in this case, not dating, but nobody needed to know that.

That’s when the realization hit me right in the gut like an icy hot patch had been plastered to my intestines. The entire world thought we were together. What was going to happen after the reunion? Would we have to pretend to stay together? Or, worse, did we have to stage a breakup?

Why, oh why, did my life sound like the plot to a YA romance right now?

Probably because I’d acted like a teenager trying to prove herself in front of the Queen Bees. If I was really the confident, smart, young professional woman I thought I was, I’d own up to my mistake and either resign from the planning committee or, even better, make the event a success regardless of my dating status.

But Rachel was expecting to see my final plans for the fundraiser at our next meeting on Saturday and after the whirlwind of a weekend, I hadn’t even started. All I knew was that we weren’t doing a gross bachelor auction. But I knew one way to make sure this year’s event was the best the school had ever seen.

I sent another text off to Chris.

Could you and the boys donate something to the fundraiser for St. Ambrose? I’m thinking silent auction type stuff.

Because somewhere inside, I was still that teased and bullied high school girl trying to show the mean girls she was worthy.

God dammit.

At work, bring it on. In the rest of my life? Not so much. I don’t know why I couldn’t be Librarian Wonder Woman all the time.

We got you, boo. Whatever you need.

Boo, huh? He must be practicing his boyfriend text skills.

Thanks, honey. Nope, that’s yucky. Sweetie? Babe? Shnookums?

Dot dot dots again from Chris.

Oops, gotta go, on desk. Will ask teens for better sweetheart names. lol

I put my phone away before I could see his reply to my weirdo awkwardness about this whole fake dating thing. Why couldn’t I just be normal with him like when we were regular friends?

A KISS CAM KISS

CHRIS

Could I have called in a favor and gotten us into a box at S’mores Field? Sure. I knew at least half a dozen Mountaineers. But I didn’t. Because I had a plan. I called in a different kind of favor, and we needed to be sitting in just the right place for it to all come together.

We arrived a little bit late, on purpose. Less people would be filing in through the turn stiles and into the stands once the game started.

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