The Fine Art of Pretending (25 page)

I know I shouldn’t be surprised. This is what Aly wanted all along. But Justin doesn’t deserve her.

The lovebirds continue with their banter, and like a glutton for punishment, I stand there.

“I’ll have a small Coke,” he says, leaning against the counter.

“You know, for only a quarter more you can get the medium.”

I’ve heard Aly’s sales pitch hundreds of times, but it never sounded so flirty before.

“Sold.” Justin grins as he digs in his back pocket for his wallet. “I see those negotiation skills are improving.”

Drew puts his hand on my arm. “Carlos and I will meet you inside.” Annoyed at the pity in his eyes, I brush his hand away. He takes a step back and nods at Aly. “See you at the party.”

Left as the third wheel, I decide I may as well eat. “Give me a—”

“Small popcorn, extra butter, medium Dr. Pepper, extra ice, lots of napkins.” As she rattles off my order, her flirty smile shifts into a sad one. She fills the cup with ice and says, “I called Kaitie on my break, and she was still bouncing off the walls over our win.”

I want to be witty. I want to be flirty and knock Justin down a peg. Hell, I’d settle for being boring and comfortable—but nothing comes out. For the first time in our friendship, I am completely without words.

Aly gets the rest of my order together, pulling a bag of popcorn from the cabinet and scurrying to the butter station. Justin stands beside me, slurping on his Coke.

After collecting my change, I take out my phone and make a production out of checking the time. “Movie’s gonna start, so we should get going.” I grasp Justin’s shoulder and push. “Coming?”

“Right behind you, man,” he says, shaking me off.

Justin drums on the counter, waiting for me to leave, but I plant my feet.

I can stand here all day
.

His eyes dart from me to Aly, who watches us both in confusion. Finally, he gives her a tight-lipped smile. “See you tonight, Aly.”

Justin’s Jeep is parked in my driveway. We’ve been sitting here in silence for going on three minutes. Three minutes doesn’t seem like much—a commercial break, the average length of a song—but sitting for that long, waiting for Justin to man up about making a move on Aly, feels like an eternity.

Wanting to speed things along so I can get the hell out of here, I throw off my seatbelt and put my hand on the door handle.

“Hey, Brandon, can we talk for a second?”

I sigh and lean back in the seat.

Justin fingers the Mardi Gras garter belt hanging on his rearview mirror. “Why did you break up with Aly?”

“You know why,” I answer, narrowing my eyes. If he knows something about our deal, he better spill it. “We decided we were better off as friends.”

He nods, as if that was what he expected. “So you don’t have feelings for her then?”

I shift in my seat and drag my hand over my face, trying to decide how best to answer. But I shouldn’t have bothered.

“Because I want to ask her out,” he admits. “But if you have a problem with that, I won’t.”

I squeeze the back of my neck to keep myself from saying what I’d like to. Because the truth is, Aly isn’t mine anymore. She damn sure isn’t my fake girlfriend, and lately it doesn’t even feel like she’s my friend. She made it clear she thinks being with Justin and getting her heart broken is what she needs to do. She’ll have to learn the hard way.

“Do whatever you want, Justin. I don’t care who Aly dates.”

Drew would’ve called me on my B.S.immediately, but Justin grins. “Thanks, man.”

With a nod, I throw open the door.

ALY
ALY’S HOUSE, 9:45 p.m
.

The
party is raging. A steady stream of partygoers started arriving a half hour ago with no end in sight. People are everywhere. They’re in the kitchen, attacking what’s left of the party spread. They’re crowded on sofas, clustered on counters, and standing in groups around the pool. Even more are dancing in the halls.

Music pounds the walls of my living room, almost eclipsing the sound of the couple getting hot and heavy on the loveseat next to where I’m standing—not hiding, exactly—in the back corner.

A plastic cup floats before my eyes a second before a whiff of spicy aftershave tickles my nose. “Hiding out, huh?”

I sigh at the familiar voice behind me. Accepting the cup, I toss the liquid back and let the bitter taste of beer douse my parched throat. “I’m not hiding, Adam. More like, observing from a distance.”

He chuckles. “Ah, I see the distinction. Seriously, Aly, what are you doing tucked in the shadows next to the soft porn?” He tilts his head toward the couple getting it on next to me and wrinkles his nose. Despite the hurt that still lingers from our breakup, I laugh.

“I don’t know,” I say, deciding to confide a little. When we were together, Adam was a good friend. And an excellent listener. “It’s just—I’m sure you’ve noticed the, ahem, improvements to my wardrobe since we dated last year?”

He smirks. “Now that you mention it.”

I sweep my hand down my current outfit, the sleeveless-white-top-and-belt/skirt ensemble. “Kara’s handiwork, if you couldn’t tell.”

Adam leans back to appraise the outfit. “Can I ask what was wrong with the old Aly?”

I bite back my first response:
Wouldn’t you know?
Instead I ask, “The truth?” He nods, and I take a breath. “I got tired being that girl. You know, the one everyone thinks of as a friend and whose own boyfriend ends up feeling the same way.” I shoot him a look, and Adam winces. “I guess I wanted to see how the other half lives for once. Be popular, have adventures, get noticed. Surge with confidence.”

His kind eyes study my hunched shoulders plastered against the wall. “And how’s that working?”

“It’s not.” I roll my eyes and release a breath. “I mean, sure, I’m not invisible anymore. I nearly flashed the entire senior class fifteen minutes ago in the belt of a skirt Kara insisted I wear. If that and feeling completely awkward and uncomfortable in your own living room while people size you up like a slab of beef counts, then yeah. I’m rocking this.” I hang my head and pretend-sob. “Do I not look as though I’m surging with confidence?”

The soft smile on his face says
no
for him. “Listen, I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from—” Someone turns up the music, and Adam leans in. “—but there was nothing wrong with the old Aly.”

My chest grows tight, and a knot twists in my stomach. Chelsea is dancing with a group of girls a few feet away. She looks back and smiles at us, clearly not worried or jealous that her boyfriend is talking with me. And why should she be? He chose

her
.

“I know I hurt you,” he says. “And I hate myself for that. But I liked the girl I dated. I even fell for her a little.” I look at him in shock, and Adam shrugs. “It didn’t stop me from falling for Chelsea, but that had nothing to do with you. We just weren’t meant to be.”

I nod, my throat too thick to talk. He’s right. After the last month with Brandon, I realize my relationship with Adam didn’t even come close. And
that
had been pretend.

Adam nudges my shoulder. “If it helps any, what you’re doing is working. Guys are definitely talking.”

I smile halfheartedly as I take another sip of beer, my hungry eyes following the latest wave of people to arrive. Guys may be talking, but there’s one who still sees me, will
always
see me, as the same old Aly.

Or, at least, the same Aly with a better wardrobe.

Brandon joins a group of guys huddled around the keg Kara got Daniel to bring in the kitchen, and Lauren follows in his wake. My stomach twists.

Did they come together?

Adam waves a hand in front of my face. “You okay there, Ace?”

Plastering a smile across my face, I nod. “I’m great.” I drain my cup and set it down in the planter in the corner. “Adam, would you like to dance?”

BRANDON
ALY’S HOUSE, 10:00 p.m
.

I
brush off hands and walk past people trying to get my attention. I’m sure I look like a dick, but I’m a man on a mission. A masochistic one.

Justin was walking up Aly’s driveway when I parked down the road, so I know he’s in here somewhere. Whether he went straight to making his move or stopped to hit on a few girls along the way is the only question. I edge through a crowd cheering on some idiot with a beer bong and push my way into the living room. Bodies dance on top of each other and it’s hard to pick anyone out, but I quickly find Aly.

She’s in the middle of the floor dancing with Adam. He whispers something in her ear, and her eyes close as she laughs. A warmth hits my chest. Strands of hair stick to her flushed cheeks, and as she gathers her hair in a ponytail off her neck, I wonder how we’ll ever get our friendship back if I can’t stop wanting more every time I see her.

I finally find Justin on the outskirts of the room, eyes tracking Aly as fiercely as my own, waiting to make his move.

What will she say?

The questions have been driving me crazy all afternoon. Of course she’ll say yes. That was the point of this whole thing. Will she call me to talk about it? As much as I want our friendship back on track, I don’t think I can stomach that conversation.