The Fine Art of Pretending (26 page)

The song ends and another begins. Justin stalks across the room. My jaw clenches as he clasps Adam on the shoulder, leaning in to speak with him. Adam nods, hugs Aly, and disappears into the crowd.

Aly’s hands are behind her back, and she fidgets with the ring on her finger as she bounces on her toes. Justin lowers his head to whisper in her ear, and then they start dancing. Even from here, I can see her blue eyes sparkle.

She looks happy. Like a jackass, it makes my gut tighten because I’m not the one putting that look in her eyes.

As much as I’d love to, I know I can’t go break them up. But I also need to know what happens. I look for a place to sit so I’m not just standing around gawking like a loser, then head for the sofa. A tortilla chip crunches under my heel, crumbling into Aly’s carpet, and I park my ass on the arm of the large sectional sofa.

“Hey there, handsome.”

I look down and see Lauren on the sofa beside me, straightening her back to display her cleavage to better advantage. The smile on her face says she knows exactly what she is doing. I turn back to the dance floor, and she yells over the music, “Wanna dance?”

“Nah, I’m just chilling,” I say, squinting in an attempt to read Aly’s lips.

“Cool.” Lauren inches closer on the sofa. “It’s warm in here, isn’t it?”

“Not really.” Did Aly just say yes? To what?

“Maybe a drink would cool me down.” She bumps my knee with her empty cup, and I glance down. Actually, that may help.

“Sure,” I tell her, taking the hint and the cup. “I’ll be right back.”

I take the long way around the room, creeping closer toward Aly and Justin, but the music makes it impossible to eavesdrop. He’s probably asking her out right now, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I failed. Failed to redirect her from Justin, failed to convince her she’s a
Commitment
, and failed to keep our friendship from falling apart.

I grab the vodka and two-liter of Sprite off the kitchen counter and bring them to the island, my eyes never straying from the disaster unfolding on the dance floor. As I pour the drink into an empty cup, Justin speaks in Aly’s ear again. She glances up and meets my gaze.

ALY
ALY’S HOUSE, 10:14 p.m
.

“I
hope it’s not too soon,” Justin screams into my ear, “but I’d like to take you out some time.”

Wrenching my eyes away from Brandon’s, I focus on the guy in front of me.

Did Justin Carter just ask me out?

“Seriously?” I ask, my voice breaking in disbelief.

He nods slowly, looking almost worried. “Friday night?”

My feet stop moving. I lose the connection between my mouth and brain. Someone bumps me from behind, but I continue staring in confusion. When the left side of his mouth kicks up in a lopsided grin, I realize he’s waiting for an answer.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer. “That would be great.”

“Good.” He pulls me closer and adjusts his steps to the slower beat now playing on the stereo. He lifts my chin to look into my eyes. “I really like you, Aly.”

Holy cannoli
.

I lay my head on Justin’s chest and breathe in his minty scent. Across the room, Kara points a finger between us, and when I nod, answering her unspoken question, she does a happy dance.

“Gabi! Picture!” Kara’s voice travels over the music as she flags down Gabi like an air-traffic controller to where Justin and I stand.

Gabi pushes people out of her way, not-accidently bumping into Lauren’s lap in the process. Lauren sneers, and Gabi leans in to tell her something, ending with a pointed finger right at my waist, which is wearing Justin’s arm like a belt.

Lauren’s eyes narrow and she turns her head away—but not before mouthing the word
slut
.

Heat floods my cheeks. I scan the crowd, wondering if anyone saw. Couples dance around us obliviously, and Justin tightens his hold around me. “Ready for your close-up?”

I look up in confusion, and he turns our bodies for Gabi to snap a picture. He mugs for the camera and then taps Gabi on the shoulder. “Give me a copy of that, will ya?”

She lowers her chin and peers up at him, like she’s waiting for the punchline or looking for his angle. “Sure. No problem.” Then she looks at me as if to say,
Is he for real?

Dazed, I lift a shoulder in response, then lean back into the hard muscles of Justin’s chest, sure that I’ve stepped into some type of alternative universe… until I see Brandon hand Lauren a drink.

I blink, not really wanting to watch but unable to look away. He sits on the armrest next to her, and Lauren presses her chest against his thigh. She smiles up at him, and he nods before lifting his head. His eyes lock on mine as if he’d felt the weight of my gaze, and he totally catches me staring.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I drag my eyes away.

There’s no denying it. Heartthrob Taylor is back in business.

And I have a mission to complete.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

3 weeks and 5 days until Homecoming

BRANDON
FAIRFIELD ACADEMY, 1:15 p.m
.

Drew
chugs his water bottle and towels off the weight bench before switching places with me. Burning off energy in the athletic department during unstructured period is a benefit of being on the baseball team, but one I normally don’t use until the season gets closer.

Today I’m willing to make an exception.

I take a deep breath and lift the bar while Drew stands behind me to spot. I press the weight in rhythm with my breathing, trying to block out the image of Justin and Aly.

They are everywhere.

My day started with a run-in at the lockers, where no amount of banging my books around could drown out their banter. Then I made my escape to English, only to have them follow. Evans assigned seats the first day, which means Aly still sits beside me and I had a front-row ticket to witness Justin plop his ass on her desktop and pretend some more that he’s extended-hookup material. Of course, once the bell rang and Justin fled for his own class, Aly and I sat in silence.

The hits just kept on coming as the day went on. There were run-ins with the happy couple in the hallways between classes and again at the lockers, but the last straw came at lunch. Trying to stomach my tacos while Justin sat with his arm around Aly, whispering in her ear, was impossible.

Worse was the nagging feeling it should’ve been me next to her.

“You want to talk about it?” Drew asks, easing the burden of the weight as I nudge it back onto the rack.

I close my eyes, panting. “About what?”

Drew throws his towel over my head, and I sit up slowly, drained from exertion.

“The reason you’re killing yourself,” he says. “Whatever has you maxing out on a weight you couldn’t lift a week ago. The thing causing that vein to pop out of your forehead.”

I stand and grab my bottle of water. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I guzzle the liquid and pitch the empty bottle into the recycle bin near the door. “Just working out.”

Inside the locker room, I snatch a clean towel and head to the showers. Drew follows.

“You don’t have to tell me shit,” he says, stepping into the neighboring stall. “But I’m not going anywhere, if you change your mind.”

I twist the knob, and the water pressure hesitates in spurts before pounding the tile. The hot water jabs at my chest like hundreds of tiny knives, and I close my eyes to duck my head under the torrent. I don’t want to talk about Justin and Aly. I want to pretend it isn’t happening because watching them together has made me realize the friendship I had with her is over. Maybe we’ll be friends again eventually, but we’ll never go back to the way things were. Too much has changed.

I finish showering and wrap the towel around my waist, heading back to my gym locker. Drew stands with his back turned, pulling on his green Fairfield Academy polo shirt.

I straddle the metal bench and sit down. “Sorry for being a dick.”

Drew nods in acknowledgement and closes his locker. “You should talk to her,” he says, tossing his comb into his bag.

“That’s the last thing I should do.” I stand and twist the combination until my locker springs open. I pull on a pair of boxers and toss my towel into the wire basket against the wall. “I just need to get over it. Keep busy. Hook up with someone else.”

“You really think that’s better than talking to her?” Drew asks incredulously.

I zip my khaki pants. “Yeah, I do,” I lie. “Aly’s got a lot on her plate right now. She’s convinced she needs to be someone she’s not, and she refuses to hear anything I have to say about it.” I step into my unlaced sneakers. “The girl is stubborn as hell.”

Drew sucks in his lips, repressing a smile. “Gee, that must be annoying.”

“You’re not funny, dude.” I hike my leg up on the bench to tie my shoe, and Drew walks around the other side.

“You’re really gonna let this go.” He leans against the cool steel wall behind him and crosses his arms. “You’re gonna give up and go bag another
Casual
, aren’t you?”

Grabbing my bag, I shove my locker shut. “I’m not giving up anything. I never wanted a relationship. That’s your deal.” He shakes his head like I’m in denial, pissing me off. “Getting back to fun and easy is exactly what I need.”