The Trouble with Faking (17 page)

***

“Wow, this place is fancy,” I say to Damien as we sit down inside the restaurant. It’s Monday night, and we’re at the V&A Waterfront for our very first real date. I told Carmen and Livi as soon as I could last night that Damien and I are together for real now. Carmen didn’t seem too excited, but Livi was thrilled. She’s expecting details once our date is over.

I take a peek inside the menu and suck in a breath. Okay. This is clearly the most expensive place I’ve ever sat down at. I assume Damien’s paying, since we’re on a date and he chose this restaurant, but I still don’t think I can comfortably order anything more than a starter. Good thing I have a small appetite.

Damien looks around, then examines the table decor, then reads the menu. “Okay,” I say after another few moments of him not looking at me. “Can I be the one to break the ice and say that this is … a little awkward?”

He smiles and reaches across the table for my hand. “It is a little. It’s still so new for me to feel this way about you. For so long you’ve been like … well, I won’t say
sister
, because that definitely would be weird, but you’ve been like family. Someone who’s always just
there
. Someone I’ve taken for granted. And now I think of you as so much more. For weeks I’ve been dreaming of taking you out on a real date, and now it’s here and I just want it to be perfect.”

Weeks?
I almost laugh and tell him I’ve been dreaming of this for
years
, but that might freak him out a little.

“That’s why I picked this place,” Damien continues. “My parents have been here before and they said the food is fantastic. And the view of the harbour and mountains is amazing. If we run out of things to talk about, we can at least talk about that.”

I laugh. “Let’s hope we don’t get to the point where we have nothing to discuss but the view.”

When the well-dressed waiter returns, Damien orders a tempura prawn starter and a beef fillet main—with a fancy name I can’t remember—while I decide on a salad that’s neither too boring nor too expensive.

“Are you sure that’s enough for you?” Damien asks.

“You know I don’t eat a lot,” I say, then smile as I remember Noah telling his mom and aunt about my enormous appetite and the supposedly gigantic slice of cake I ate.

“I know, that’s probably why you’re looking so thin.”

“Oh my goodness.” I roll my eyes. “Now you sound like my mother. And, just like my mother, you probably don’t know that I keep a stock of food in my cupboard at res so I can survive all those long nights of studying. Trust me, I’ve been eating plenty.”

“Good to hear.” He reaches for my hand again and runs his thumb back and forth over my skin. It’s weird—because it’s
him
—but nice. “How are things with your mom? I mean, I know you don’t like to talk about her,” he adds quickly, “and if it’s going to ruin our dinner, then don’t worry, we can move on. I just thought I should—”

“It’s fine, you can ask. Things are actually much better. Noah yelled at me about a whole lot of stuff the other night, which turned out to be quite helpful.” Except for the part about Damien being the wrong guy for me. That part wasn’t so helpful.

Damien frowns. “He yelled at you? I’m so sorry, that sounds horrible. He’s been a bit—”

“No, no, don’t worry. It was good for me. He said all this stuff about people not being perfect and how everyone will end up hurting someone they love at some point, not because they mean to, but because they’re human. I couldn’t get my mom out of my head after that, so I finally spoke to her about everything.”

“That’s great, Andi. But it’s sad that Noah had to paint such a negative picture of humanity. I hope you know that I won’t ever do anything to hurt you.”

“Oh, I know, I know. He wasn’t trying to be negative, he was just saying that no one’s perfect, you know?”

“I know. That doesn’t mean we can’t try, though. We should all be striving for perfection.”

I nod automatically, already preparing to point out to Noah that I’m not the only one dreaming of a perfect future, but I feel a frown forming as I replay Damien’s words in my head. “Wait. Really? Do you really think
perfection
is what everyone should be working towards? What about … happiness, or—”

“Yes, happiness is good too.” Damien smiles at me, but his hand slides away from mine. At first I wonder if I’ve said something wrong, but then I realise he moved because our waiter is here with the starter. As he walks away, Damien pushes the flowery centrepiece aside and moves the plate of tempura prawns to the middle of the table. “Here, this is for both of us.”

“Oh, I don’t eat prawns.”

“Really?” Damien looks confused. “Since when?”

“Um … forever?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s so weird that I don’t know that about you.”

“I know,” I say with a chuckle. “It feels as though we should know everything about each other, having been friends for so long, but I’m sure there are lots of random things that simply never came up.”

“Like prawns, apparently.”

“Yeah, like prawns.” I laugh to show Damien it’s no big deal to me because he seems a little upset by this discovery. “Oh, you know what I heard some girls talking about earlier?” I ask, picking the first subject change that comes to mind. “The Smuts formal.” I give him a sideways smile. “Apparently it isn’t too far away. These girls were wondering if anyone would invite them.”

Damien stops chewing and stares at me with a thoughtful expression.

Crap. I’m talking without thinking again. “I mean, not that you should feel any pressure to ask me to go with you. That’s not why I mentioned it. I was just … ugh. Now I’m really making this awkward.”

“No, no, that’s not it. I just hadn’t thought about it yet. Of course we’ll go together. You’re my girlfriend, Andi. For real now.”

Girlfriend.
I expect to feel a thrill rushing through me when he says that, but my insides don’t give me the reaction I was hoping for. Perhaps, since Damien’s been referring to me as his girlfriend for weeks now, I’ve become used to it. Even though it wasn’t real until now.

I clap my hands together and add in a small squeal in an attempt to get my body to respond with the appropriate level of excitement. “It will be so much fun. I’ve already got this fantastic idea for a dress that’s a little alternative. I was going to keep it for the Fuller formal later in the year, but since the Smuts one is first, I can do it then. You’re gonna love it. It’ll be totally different from the standard formal dress all the other girls will be wearing.”

“Awesome,” Damien says, dipping a prawn into the tiny bowl of sauce on the side of the plate. “Not
too
different, though, I hope. I know you always add something quirky and interesting to your outfits—it’s one of the things I love about you—but, you know, it’s a formal, so you still want to look nice.”

“Of course it will look nice. Have I ever crafted an outfit that doesn’t look nice?”

He smiles and shakes his head, but now I’m wondering what he really thinks of my creative wardrobe choices. “Are you sure you don’t want to taste this?” he asks, gesturing to the last prawn on the plate. “It’s delicious.”

“Um, yes. I mean, yes, I’m sure.” I fiddle with the pin badge attached to the collar of my brown and white polka-dot dress and wonder if Damien finds it strange. It’s a plain circle with the words
Coffee Junkie
written in brown loopy text. I thought it was cute, but maybe to Damien it doesn’t count as ‘nice,’ especially since we’re out at a fancy restaurant.

Before I can get too concerned about the matter, Damien asks how my classes are going. Discussion of our studies keeps us busy until our main meals arrive. Then we talk about his plans for the future—which include getting a master’s—the friends we used to know at school, the book I’m currently reading, his parents’ vegan diet, the roomful of weed-smoking Smuts guys he found when he was on duty last week, and the noisy renovations taking place on the floor above the building he has most of his lectures in. It’s nice. It’s comfortable. It’s … a little boring.

Dammit. Noah was right.

We make out in Damien’s car in the Smuts parking lot. The city lights sparkle in the background, cheesy love songs play on the radio, and my heart rate rises as Damien’s lips move against mine, our tongues entwine, and his fingers slide through my hair.

This is right. This is perfect. This is definitely not boring. Noah was definitely wrong.

UGH! So why am I not burning up with fiery passion? Why am I wondering who the ping on my phone two minutes ago was from? Why, for freak’s sake, am I thinking about Noah instead of the guy I’m currently kissing—his best friend?

Damien’s hand travels slowly up my leg, pulling my skirt up with it, and I decide it’s time to stop this. I put my hand on top of his, halting his progress, and pull away from the kiss. He chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s take this slowly.”

I reach for the door handle, then stop. “Damien, is this … the right thing? You and me?” I dare to meet his gaze and find him looking momentarily confused.

“Yes, of course.” He lifts my hand and kisses it. “I think you’re just feeling weird because we’ve been friends for so long. You’ll get used to us being together soon.”

“I … okay.” Maybe I will. Or maybe I need a day or two to properly think about this. “I, uh, have some work I haven’t finished for tomorrow yet. Do you mind if we call it a night?”

“No, not at all, I was about to suggest the same thing.” He gets out his side of the car.

Wow
, my sarcastic inner voice—a voice that sounds suspiciously like Noah’s—whispers to me.
Don’t let that passion sweep the two of you away.

Back in my room, I flop onto my bed with my phone and discover that the message just now was from Livi.

Livi: How’d it go?

Andi: It was nice :)

Livi: Nice? REALLY? Come on, you can do better than that. Give me details.

Details? I don’t want to tell her the conversation was barely a smidgen above boring and the kissing was passionless, so I type,
Um … He took me to a fancy restaurant at the Waterfront.

Livi: Awesome :) Did you like it?

Andi: Yes.

Livi: Smoochies?

Andi: Yes.

Livi: Bum squeeze?

I roll my eyes, then type,
Yes, both cheeks.

Livi: Okay seriously. What happened?

I may as well get some entertainment out of this evening, so I type,
I told you. He groped my butt.

Livi: What endearing things did he say?

Andi: “You have firm cheeks.”

Livi: No, really. What did he say?

Andi: “You’ve obviously been working out.”

Livi: Andi! Come on!

I roll onto my tummy, giggling and typing,
You saying I have flabby cheeks?

Livi: Andrea Clark!

Andi: I’ll let you have a squeeze next time I see you.

Livi: Oh. My. Hat. I give up.

Andi: *laughing*

Livi: *sighing* Fine. But you’re gonna have to spill when I see you.

I put my phone down as my smile fades. If only I’d enjoyed the date as much as I enjoyed making fun of it.

***

“Andi, hey!” Livi says as she pulls open the door to her second-floor flat. “What are you doing here?”

“Um …” I twist my hands together. “Avoiding my new boyfriend?”

“What?” Livi’s expression falls. “You guys have been together two days. Why are you avoiding him already?”

I groan as I walk past her into the flat. “Last night’s date wasn’t as amazing as I may have led you to believe.”

“Oh, you mean with the evasive non-answers about your butt? Trust me, you didn’t lead me to believe anything except that you’re infuriating.”

“Right. Well—Oh, hey, Adam.” I wave to Livi’s boyfriend who’s sitting on the couch with a paused movie on the TV in front of him.

“Hey,” he answers. “Uh … I’m just gonna sit here and pretend I’m not listening to you two talking about butts.”

Livi rolls her eyes. “Keep watching the movie. We’ll chat in my room.”

I follow her past the couch and into her bedroom. She closes the door, then moves a pile of papers with music notes scribbled on them off her bed. “You’ve been composing?” I ask as I sit.