The Fine Art of Pretending (30 page)

Nine
days.

It’s been nine long days since that day at the movie theatre. The day of my party. The last day we spoke.

And it’s been three days since I discovered I’m in love with him.

Yesterday, church was almost painful. Our hands brushing when we sat and when we stood, but never once looking at each other. I
couldn’t
look at him. If I had, he’d have known everything I’m feeling—if he doesn’t already. But now, I can’t stop.

There’s a tightness in his eyes that I’m not used to seeing, a rigidness in his shoulders normally not there. But he’s still gorgeous. Same model lips, same soft green eyes. And my heart reacts just the same as ever—by banging around in my chest like it wants to jump out and say hello.

“You’re not funny, dude,” Carlos replies, although the humor in his voice says otherwise. “I was trying to get Aly to do the talent show with me.”

Brandon meets my stare, and it’s like an electric shock to my system. My tummy spasms as he studies my face, which I assume shows terror more than heartache because he shakes his head and says, “Sorry. My client only sings at events preapproved by her management. You’ll have to find another partner.”

I mouth a silent
thank-you
, hoping he doesn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. Brandon to the rescue again. No matter what’s going on between us, he never fails to save me.

The loud, chaotic cafeteria seems to fade as I stare into his calm, familiar face, and I make a decision. It hurts to be in love and know that I can never have him, but I refuse to lose Brandon completely. Friendship is infinitely better than nothing at all.

Justin scoots closer and puts his hand on my knee. “Your client?”

Brandon punctures his carton of chocolate milk with a straw. “I discovered her talent,” he says with a forced smile. “That makes me her manager.”

The guys enter some sort of silent eye war, and Gabi clears her throat quietly, shooting me a sideways smirk. Ignoring her, I pick up my lunch.

“Mmm. Gotta love pizza day,” I say around a big, cheesy bite.

Justin takes the hint and Brandon does, too, and in the silence that falls, my yummy noises are amplified. Both guys chuckle at my exuberance, and for a brief while, things are okay. Not great, but not horrid either. That is, until a feminine voice says, “Thanks for saving my seat.”

Brandon visibly tenses as Lauren takes the open seat beside him, sending him a secret smile. She rests her hand on his arm like it belongs there, and jealousy twists in my stomach.

Are they together now?

She wrinkles her nose as she examines his plate. “Do you
always
eat only one thing at a time?”

The way she asks implies a hidden meaning, as does the look she cuts in my direction, but I ignore both. “You’ve unearthed his dirty little secret,” I say, balling up my rough brown napkin. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dared the boy to mix it up a little. To try taking a bite of pizza and then, heaven forbid, a bite of corn, but it’s like he physically cannot bring himself to do it.”

I smirk at Brandon, daring him into our usual pattern of friendly teasing, and he folds his arms on the table with a smirk of his own. “Oh yeah? What about you, Ms. No-Ice-in-Drinks-and-Must-Lather-Myself-with-Cookie-Smelling-Lotion-Every-Day-So-My-Skin-Doesn’t-Prematurely-Wrinkle?”

Lauren’s lip curls up in obvious annoyance, but relief pours through my soul. Goofing off with Brandon, teasing, shared history, and inside jokes. This feels like home.

Gabi snorts and twists in her chair to point at me. “He got you there.”

I grin. “Yeah, so I have my own odd quirks. But to love me is to love my quirks and all.”

Justin slides his arm around the back of my chair. “I knew you came with a few quirks, goofball.” His smile seems forced as he ducks his head to kiss my shoulder. “And personally, I love the cookie-smelling lotion.”

“Goofball?” Brandon asks.

Justin’s forced smile grows wider. “My pet name for Aly,” he explains. “She calls me idiot.” He lifts a hand to run it through my hair. “They have a certain ring to them, don’t you think?”

Brandon makes a disgusted noise, and when his green eyes meet mine, they’re void of any trace of our delicate truce and previous humor. Two steps forward, five steps back.

No longer hungry, I push away my tray.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH

2 weeks and 1 day until Homecoming

ALY
ALY’S HOUSE, 9:25 p.m
.

My
eyes are on Justin instead of the big screen mounted on the media room wall. The glow from the romantic comedy on the television illuminates the slight dimple in his cheek, and as he laughs, I wonder again how I got here.

The movie is almost over, and I couldn’t tell you a single thing about it. Most girls on a date with Justin Carter would claim that for an entirely different reason. But nope, no making out for us. Claiming exhaustion from work and practice, I excused my way out of it. And the fact that I felt the need to do so confirmed that I can’t do this anymore.

Who is this girl I’ve become? Whoever she is, I don’t like her very much.

My so-called relationship with Brandon wasn’t real, but it felt like it was. Real enough to prove that I want a
real
relationship. Brandon was right. I can’t do meaningless hookups—my emotions get way too involved.

Justin snakes his hand behind my back and pulls me down to lie next to him on the cool leather sofa. He kisses the tip of my nose and grins. “I need an Aly-fix.”

He cups the base of my neck and tries to tilt my head back.

I place my hand on his wrist.
This is it
. “Justin?”

“Mmhmm,” he answers, tracing lazy patterns across my cheek with the tip of his finger.

My eyes flutter closed, and for a moment, I consider not saying anything. Going on with the ruse and hoping that my feelings will someday change. But that wouldn’t be fair.

I wrench my eyes back open. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He presses a quick kiss to my cheek and pushes himself up on his elbow. “Okay, but me first.” He looks excited, which instantly has my tummy cramping. This can’t be good. Brushing my hair behind my shoulder, he takes a deep breath and says, “Would you go to Homecoming with me?”

My jaw unhinges. “Huh?”

Justin puts his fingers under my chin and closes my mouth. “It’s stupid, I know. You’re my girlfriend, so obviously we’ll go together, but I wanted to ask officially.”

“Girlfriend?” I ask incredulously, my eyes darting between his eyes and lips.

The world starts spinning double-time.

He looks down, and a shy smile creeps up his face. In that moment, he looks young and vulnerable, and nothing like the heartbreaker of Fairfield Academy.

“If you want,” he says softly. He draws a shaky breath and lifts his gaze back up to meet mine. “I’d like you to be. But it’s been a while, so you have to promise to be gentle.”

It is surreal. The last six weeks of chaos have built to this moment. The merging of my original goal—to be noticed by the male species and hopefully get a
non
-friend date to Homecoming—and the end goal—to prove I’ve changed, that people are seeing me differently, and that I could snag the interest of the biggest player, the male epitome of
Casual
.

The curse of the Wall of Shame will be broken if only I can just keep my mouth shut.

“Why have you been fighting with Brandon?”

Or not
.

The question pops out unconsciously. I was prepared to break up with him or possibly even carry the charade on further like a spineless jellyfish, but I didn’t expect those words to come out of my mouth. But I’m not going to take them back.

Justin doesn’t flinch. He presses his lips together and absently strokes my arm. “You noticed, huh?”

After his territorial performance at lunch on Monday—all but peeing on me in front of the entire table—Brandon and Lauren started sitting at the other end. And whenever we’ve run into them in the halls, the tension has been electric.

Justin shoves a pillow under his head and scoots back so he can see me better. “I told you I used to watch the two of you together and I saw how much you changed,” he says, reminding me of our conversation at the batting cages. “But at first, I have to admit, I didn’t buy it.”

You and everyone else
, I think. What I say is, “Why not?”

He presses his lips in a thin line. “Aly, you’re many things, but
Casual
isn’t one of them.”

I almost laugh. The guy I set out to win over—to prove I can change my image and become someone else—never even fell for it. There goes my Project Change My Status success.

“And Brandon’s always been my wingman, so when he hooked up with you, a girl into relationships, it felt like he abandoned me for something we both said we never wanted.” Justin squints at the cushion above my head as if he is still trying to make sense of Brandon’s change. “Brandon ragged on Drew about being whipped harder than any of us, but then out of nowhere he showed up with you.” His forced laugh is dark, but when he meets my eyes, the emotion in them strikes me. “Watching him, though, I started to think maybe you were the difference.”

A tsunami of shame hits me. Justin’s declaration of honesty contrasts so sharply with everything I’ve done since starting Operation Sex Appeal. And the worst part is that he left out a vital piece of information while drawing his angst-driven conclusion: the whole thing was a hoax. Not the makeover part, but definitely Brandon and me. Or, at least, we began that way. Justin is giving me
way
too much credit.

I open my mouth to explain, but he presses a finger against my lips. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t do the talking thing. No one knows about my absent parents, and I never talk about feelings or any of that crap. But I feel like I can talk to you. At the batting cages, you said we’ve never really been friends, but to me, we were. And you were my only friend who was a girl. Watching you with him, I realized I wasn’t angry. I was jealous. If anyone could make me want a commitment, too, it’d be you. And when Brandon dropped the ball and broke up with you at the dance, I saw it as my chance.”

A half-laugh of amazement escapes my lips, and I blink a few times to clear away the crazy parallel universe I’ve somehow stepped in. “Justin, I don’t know what to say. That is so sweet.”

And completely undeserved
.

Shaking my head, I twist my fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling the taut muscles of his chest flex beneath my touch. Before I confess, I need to understand. “But I’m not really sure what that has to do with the two of you fighting now.”

Justin shakes his head and sighs as if I’m a child not comprehending something obvious. “The body wasn’t even cold, Aly. He called it off, and I jumped in before he had a chance to change his mind. I saw what I wanted, and I took it. But that doesn’t mean he can’t try to win you back.” He lowers his head and presses his forehead against mine. “I know I would.”

Justin is officially perfect. He’s a great guy, and he’d make an amazing boyfriend. I know I
should
be ecstatic, but what keeps flashing across my mind is that I’m lying here with the wrong boy. And I
really
don’t want to hurt this one.