The Fine Art of Pretending (8 page)

“Wait.” Carlos glances at his plate of crumbs. “You made these?”

A blush creeps up Aly’s neck. She sucks at taking compliments as much as I suck at lying, but these cookies are
seriously
good. “It’s my recipe,” she admits. “Mom totally made them, though.”

He steals a cookie from a disgruntled Gabi and garbles around a mouthful of chocolate. “Hot damn.”

Stupid pride fills my chest. I had zero to do with Aly’s dessert, but a smug smile tugs my mouth anyway. “I know, right?” I squeeze Aly’s shoulder and say, “My girl’s gonna be a pastry chef.”

The words just come out.
My girl
. Everyone, including Aly, looks at me, and I stuff another cookie in my mouth. If I had said that before today, no one would’ve blinked an eye. Aly and I have been friends forever. But now the words sound proprietary. Like I’m really saying she’s
mine
. And in their eyes, she is.

After dinner, we agree to meet back for the bonfire in an hour, then head off to clean up. Aly and I hold hands walking out of the building. It’s weird how
un
weird that is.

We stop when the path forks between our two cabins, and in my best impersonation of a lovesick idiot, I say, “I’ll see you in an hour,
honey
.”

Aly laughs and gives me a playful shove. She heads toward her cabin but, after a few steps, turns to wave with a happy smile that takes up her whole face. In the shadows of the trail, she looks like the Aly I’ve been friends with for years, sans makeover. She continues down the path, her laughter trailing behind her, and I feel the answering smile on my face long after she’s gone.

ALY
BONFIRE, 8:00 p.m
.

I
stand at the edge of the raging bonfire in my pesky heels, balancing on the edge of an old log used for seating. I dart a glance at the crowd, pretending I don’t notice the groups huddled in conversation around me. My heel slips, I lose my footing, and I stumble. I try to sit down and then shoot back up again.

Where’s Brandon?

When the gawking happened at dinner, he was there to keep my usual crazy-hyperness at bay. He balances me out nicely that way. But now I’m alone. Gabi’s back at the cabin, trapped on the phone with her mom in the latest Avila-family smackdown, Kara left before I did to meet up with Daniel, and Brandon’s nowhere in sight. How am I supposed to act? Ignore the whispers? Smile and wave when people point at me? Act aloof and superior…if I can even pull that off?

Abandoned for the time being, I mentally go through my volleyball drills and pray for backup support to arrive.

Knowing Kara, she’s probably discovered an amazing secluded spot to make out with Daniel and won’t surface again until dawn. In fact, that’s probably where Justin and Lauren are, too. There’s a reason he’s known as the school player, which is exactly why I need him to ask me out. If Justin gives me the
Casual
stamp of approval, I’ll know my transformation is a success.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I jump. I twist in the embrace and look up into Brandon’s lifesaving green eyes. He glances around, notices the audience, and kisses the tip of my nose. “Miss me?”

“You have no idea.” Taking a deep breath, I collapse against his hard chest.

Brandon tenses, and he lifts my chin. “Is something wrong?” He looks around again. “Did somebody mess with you?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m fine.” I smile, realizing it’s the truth now that he’s here. “Actually, I’m more than fine. I’m great. Like you said, our plan’s working. I think I’m just shocked at how quickly things are changing.” I bite my lip to stop a sudden fit of giggles. “And maybe a little drunk on excitement.”

I feel the rumble in Brandon’s chest and know what’s coming. I wince as he says, “Oh good, I love drunk Aly.”

“Shut up!” I say, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment.

“As long as it isn’t on Mad Dog 20/20, that is.”

“Ugh, I knew you’d bring that up, you asshat!” I pinch him in the ribs and shudder at the memory of my first high-school party. “I vowed to never let anything that horrid cross my lips again. You just like bringing it up because you got to play hero, saving me from prying eyes while I tossed my cookies outside.” I pause and scrunch my nose. “After my
seriously
ill-advised attempt to fight Nasty Angie.”

Brandon grins. “Can’t lie—two women fighting over me was pretty hot.” I scowl, and he laughs. “Guess our new status proves those exes right though, huh?”

I hadn’t thought of that. Three years of being best friends, Brandon dating a new girl every week… that’s a lot of girls. And every single one of them was mean to me, like Angie, too. They were jealous of my friendship with Brandon and constantly gave me the stink-eye whenever I came around. Now they’ll think there
was
something going on between us all along.

I really didn’t think through this plan very well. Luckily, I have Hurricane Gabi as a bodyguard.

“Whaddup, whaddup,” Carlos says, appearing behind Brandon’s shoulder. “What’s going on, party people?”

I peer around him, wondering if Justin is there, too. No such luck. Sighing, I look down and notice the guitar in Carlos’s hand. Gabi has a thing for musicians. Another cosmic sign they belong together.

As if the universe planned it, my phone buzzes with my rebel friend’s ringtone. I laugh reading the message:
Traitor
. I scan the crowd and find her at the edge of the bonfire, signature scowl in place. I text back,
Frowning leads to premature wrinkles
, and she flips me off.

I motion her over, and with a visible grunt, Gabi ambles toward us, her frown deepening when she spies the instrument in Carlos’s hand. “You play?” she asks when she stops a foot away. Her eyes narrow at me as if I’d somehow planned the whole thing.

“Nah,” he says, lifting the guitar by the neck. “Carrying it around just looks good for the ladies.”

Picking up the sarcasm—being a master at it herself—and then ignoring it, Gabi cocks her hip and says, “We’ve run in the same circles for years. How did I not know this?”

Carlos offers her an impish grin. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Gabriella. I’m a man of many talents.”

She flicks her multi-hued hair over her shoulder and glances away, going for
bored
. But I know better. “Whatever.”

Carlos shakes his head, chuckling to himself, and sits down on a log to tune his guitar. Brandon sinks onto the soft grass and kicks out his legs, and I plop myself in front of him. Gabi smirks, raising and lowering her eyebrows in a “told you so” gesture, and I sigh. Here I go again, confirming her theory about my long-held feelings for Brandon.

Another example of how I did
not
think this plan through.

Gabi’s silly smile falls a few beats before I hear a familiar voice say, “Hey, guys.”

The rock wall of Brandon’s chest manages to grow harder as Lauren appears over us. Her plastic smile wavers ever so slightly when she focuses on me. “Y’all having fun?”

I don’t know what the sudden tension is about, but beyond her, Justin is at the bonfire talking with our third baseman and his eyes are on me. He winks, and a surge of adrenaline hits my bloodstream, so I answer honestly, “Yeah, this place is great.” Looking away from my future conquest, I grin at Lauren. “Are
you
having a good time?”

She lifts her shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “The day’s been filled with surprises, that’s for sure. It’ll be interesting to see how it all plays out.” Lauren bounces on her toes and gives Brandon a pointed look.

Not fluent in cryptic, I blink.
Well, this is awkward
.

Brandon locks his arms around my waist, and Lauren smiles again. “I’m gonna go grab a bottle of water, but you guys have fun. We’ll have to catch up later, Brandon.”

She takes a step toward the dining hall and stops. Her gaze passes over our group until it rests on Gabi. Then, sliding a hand across Carlos’s shoulder, she says, “He’s talented, huh? I used to
love
lying on his bed and listening to him play.” Gabi’s eyes narrow into slits, and Lauren leans down, saying in a lower voice obviously still meant to reach the rest of us, “Play that song I love, will ya?”

With a final pointed look at Brandon, she walks off.

“Okay, so Lauren’s a bitch,” I whisper to Gabi, who is following the dance captain’s progress with her eyes. Angry energy snaps around her. I don’t know if she’s furious on my behalf or her own, but metaphorical cold water needs to be poured on this situation stat. Gabi’s like the Hulk—when she gets angry things tend to get messy, and from the squinty look of her eyes, we’re about two seconds away from disaster. We need a distraction.

And that’s when Carlos starts strumming. Either he understands Gabi better than I thought or the boy has seriously good timing, but he gives me a small nod as the music seeps into the air. He doesn’t sing, but he doesn’t need to. The soft melody, coupled with the raging fire and smoky haze, is mesmerizing. After a few bars, Gabi slumps down beside me, mumbling about airheads.

Crisis averted, I relax, too. I stretch my legs out and snuggle deeper in Brandon’s arms, enjoying the moment.

Music speaks to my soul more than anything else. More than volleyball or even chocolate, which is saying something. I used to dream about joining the choir at church, but I could never bring myself to sing in front of other people. No one—not my parents, Gabi, Kara, or Brandon—know how often I lock myself in my bathroom, turn on the radio, and serenade my toothbrush.

I hum to myself, watching Justin from across the bonfire. Our eyes meet. Before today, I could count on one hand how many times Justin has looked in my direction, and they’ve all been a cursory glance or to ask a question. This look is different. I don’t know exactly
how
it’s different, only that it is. He raises his gaze past my shoulder, and my pretend date laces his fingers around my waist.

I gasp as the edge of Brandon’s hand glides across a sliver of bare stomach where my tank top has ridden up. His chest rumbles with the strum of Carlos’s guitar, and tingles radiate from the heat of his touch.

This is no big deal, I tell myself. I’d get tingly if
any
guy touched me.

But the problem is that same jolt happened earlier in the assembly hall. I close my eyes and force myself to relax against him. This is Brandon, after all. My best friend. My partner in crime.

This is just a sign of how well we’re playing our roles. I’m even convincing myself
.

After a few moments of deep breathing, my heart rate returns to normal. I open my eyes, but Justin is gone.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 10TH

7 weeks and 4 days until Homecoming