The Trouble with Faking (6 page)

“Wow. So … pretty much the same as my experience,” I joke.

“Yes, pretty much. I don’t think I need to tell you that when a bursary opportunity came up at the end of high school, I was more than ready to leave home and move into res.”

“Sounds a bit like Carmen’s family,” I say, swivelling in my chair and raising my voice to include Carmen and her date. “She spent the past five years at boarding school, and every holiday her three younger siblings would drive her crazy. She was
very
happy when she discovered her bursary also covered res fees and she wouldn’t have to stay at home this year.”

Carmen shakes her head. “
Ek’s jammer, maar ek praat nie verder met daai ou totdat hy onverskoning vra dat hy my met goed in my gesig gegooi het nie.
”

Noah bows his head forwards until it’s touching the table. “I sincerely apologise.”

After that, it seems a little easier for everyone to get along. Wine bottles are passed around the table, skipping my glass, since I’m of the opinion that wine is gross, and Noah’s, because, contrary to what I would have guessed, he doesn’t drink. Food arrives soon after the wine starts flowing. I spot Damien at a table for sub-wardens, but he’s too busy talking to the people around him to notice me when I try to catch his eye.

When we’ve finished our dessert and couples begin moving towards the open space of floor intended for dancing, Noah leans over and says, “Do you want to dance?”

I wait for him to start laughing, but it seems he’s being serious. Perhaps he thinks he has to offer as part of this Valentine date thing. “Oh, no, we don’t have to do that. I’d hate for you to be ‘roped in’ to anything else this evening.” And the only person I really want to dance with is Damien.

“Hey, maybe I like dancing,” Noah says. “Besides, one day you’ll look back with great regret that you turned down this opportunity to dance with me.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“I’m pretty sure I won’t.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to—”

“Hey, Andi. Would you like to dance?” Butterflies assault my insides as I look up and see Damien standing beside my chair. He reaches down and places a paper heart on the table in front of me. It’s the same kind of paper heart Noah gave me—I think all Smutsmen attending this dance were instructed to give one to their date—but the difference is that this one has Damien’s handwriting on it. And it says
For my valentine
.

I look up again and find Damien waiting with his hand held out towards me. His smile is wide, candlelight sparkles in his eyes, and that suit looks so darn good on him. There is
nothing
that could get me to say no to his invitation.

I push my chair back and stand. “I’d love to.”

A thrill runs through me as I take Damien’s hand. We’ve never held hands before. Why would we? Friends don’t do that. He leads me to the dance floor, and I slide my arms around his neck. My hands are shaking. I hope he doesn’t notice. His arms slip around my waist, and we begin moving to the slow beat of the music. He’s so close and he smells so good and his eyes are boring into mine and I’m so giddy I might fall over. I have to remind myself to breathe. I have to remind my heart not to leap right out of my chest.

“You’re very good at this,” Damien says with a conspiratorial smile. “You’re almost fooling me.”

My pounding heart slows to a painful thud. I look down, breathing in deeply, reminding myself that none of this is real. One dance. I’ll let myself pretend for one dance, and then I’ll tell him we shouldn’t do this.

“You’re looking lovely tonight, by the way. Isn’t this the dress you wore when you finally got to meet your dad last year? Just before Christmas?”

I nod and smile, but I can’t bring myself to speak. Why does he have to remember details like that? Why does he have to make me feel so important to him when all I am is a friend? Why can’t he see that he’s perfect for me? That we’re perfect for each other?

“I thought so,” he says with a smile. “I remember it from the photo you sent me.”

I rest my cheek against his shoulder, so that just once, I’ll know what it feels like.
One dance
, I remind myself.
Just one dance
.

With a quiet chuckle into my ear, Damien says, “You’ll have to keep reminding me that you’re not the one I’m supposed to be falling for.”

And in that instant, I change my mind.

The Official Mission
:

Get Marie to fall for Damien and Mike to fall for Andi.

Step One
: Remain friends for a short while.

Step Two
: Start fake dating.

Step Three
: Take every opportunity to be a happy couple in front of Marie and/or Mike, thereby making them jealous.

Step Four
: Bonding as friends—Damien hangs out with Marie and Andi hangs out with Mike.

Step Five
: Damien and Andi realise they were only ever meant to be friends and end their fake relationship.

Step Six
: Damien gets Marie, Andi gets Mike, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Andi’s
Side Mission
:

Get Damien to fall for Andi instead of Marie.

Step One
: Remain friends for a short while.

Step Two
: Start fake dating.

Step Three
: Damien realises Andi is the one for him.

Step Four
: Damien and Andi live happily ever after.

The week after the Valentine’s Dance, university starts for real, and I’m plunged into lectures and tutorials and society meetings and a coffee evening with my Fuller mentor and a res charity thing and a few minutes snatched here and there with Damien. After two weeks of trying to keep up with everything, I reach Friday evening, wave off Carmen’s suggestion to go out with Kimmy and Georgia, and fall into bed. I only manage to read two pages of my current book before the words start to run into each other, and as much as I’m dying to know what happens, sleep pulls me under.

I surface on Saturday morning to the sound of banging on my door. “Mmm, come in,” I mumble, hoping I left the latch unlocked last night. I don’t feel like getting up to open it.

“How are you
still
sleeping if you went to bed, like, twelve hours ago?” Carmen asks.

I sit up and squint at her through one half-open eyelid. “I need lots of sleep?”

She walks in and, after moving at least five cushions onto the floor, finds a spot to sit on the end of my bed. “So, I heard a rumour last night that may or may not be news.”

“Oh yeah?” I rub my eyes.

“You and Damien—the guy Charlotte broke up with because she thought he was cheating on her—are a couple.”

“Oh. Yes. That’s news.” I give her a big smile.

“Since when?”

“Uh, yesterday.” I think it was yesterday that Damien was going to start telling people. I probably should have told someone too.

Carmen purses her lips, then says, “So this is the guy you
weren’t
secretly dating?”

“Yes.”

“The one you assured me you were just friends with?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re together?”

“Yes.” I run a hand through my tangled hair. “I’ve actually always liked him. I’ve wanted to be more than friends for a while. I guess since Charlotte accused us of being together, he started thinking of me differently.”

“I see. And is there a reason you didn’t tell me
any
of this?”

“Um …”

Carmen crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “I don’t get you, Andi. You’re friendly and self-confident and chatty, but when it comes to anything personal, you close up. You don’t share a thing.”

“It’s not that I—”

“Friends are supposed to tell each other what’s going on in their lives, Andi, and I thought you and I were friends.”

“We are friends.”

“So then?” She gives me a questioning look. “Why don’t I know anything about the guy you’ve always liked or the sister you sometimes visit or why you never answer phone calls from your mom?”

“Because … I mean …” I wish I were more awake for this conversation. “You and I are still getting to know each other. Our friendship is new. There are lots of things I haven’t told you yet, but that doesn’t mean I’m intentionally hiding them from you. I mean, you haven’t told me everything there is to know about you yet, right?”

“Right,” she says slowly, but she’s still giving me an odd look. “It just seems like it would be normal to talk about the things that are happening
now
. Like Damien.” She stands up and heads to the door. “I hope it works out for the two of you.”

The door closes behind her before I can say anything else. I flop back onto my pillow, wondering how long it’ll take her to forgive me. Hopefully not long, because now that Damien and I are officially together—in the eyes of the rest of the world—I’m more than ready to gush about him the way girls normally do. And I won’t have to fake a minute of it.

I check my phone—thirty-five minutes left until the dining hall closes—and find a message from Damien.

Damien: It’s official. You’re my girlfriend ;-)

I close my eyes and groan, wishing, wishing,
wishing
it were the truth.

What are you doing to yourself, Andi? This is going to be torture.

No. This won’t be torture. Not for long, anyway, because pretty soon Damien will forget about Marie and see that I’ve always been the perfect girl for him.

I shower quickly, then hurry to the dining hall before it closes. After waiting in line for a plate of scrambled eggs, I add a slice of bread to the conveyor toaster. I peer inside the machine to watch the bread make its slow journey along the metal conveyor belt—just as an arm wraps around me.

“Whoa!” I flinch, then relax when I realise it’s Damien.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He gives me a one-armed hug and kisses my neck—KISSES MY NECK!—before whispering, “I saw Marie heading this way for breakfast, so I figured it would be a good time to start acting like the most in-love couple in the world in front of her. Then you can say you have to rush off somewhere, and I’ll stay and chat to her for a bit.”

“O-okay. Sounds good.” My toast slides out the bottom of the machine. I add it to my plate and follow Damien to the table next to the one Marie and her friend are at. We sit down, and Damien places his hand on my knee. HOW IS THIS SO EASY FOR HIM? My fingers start trembling at the thought of being so close to him, but he’s touching my bare skin and chatting away as easily as if we’ve been doing this for years. Probably because it means nothing to him. Probably because his attention isn’t here, but rather focused on the table next to ours.

I glance up to see if Marie’s watching us. She isn’t, but a whole lot of other people are. The three girls at the table in the far corner are frowning as they look our way, their lips moving in words I can’t decipher. Another two girls whisper as they pass our table, looking back over their shoulders as they head for the door. A large gathering of second-year girls and guys laugh as one of their number stands up, peers our way, then sits back down abruptly. I wonder what they’re saying about us.

It doesn’t matter.

No, it doesn’t. It’s never bothered me what other people think. It’s just unpleasant knowing that so many of them are probably thinking things that aren’t true. But I wanted this, so it’s about time I start to enjoy it. I push away the thought of everyone else and lean into Damien, giggling as if I’m about to share a delightful secret with him. “If only Mike were here too,” I say. “We could make them both jealous at the same time.” And if only I were actually interested in Mike. Then I wouldn’t be bothered about the fact that Damien’s thinking about another girl when he’s with me.

He pulls me closer and kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of opportunities.”

I allow a dreamy sigh to escape me as I look up into his eyes. No doubt he thinks I’m putting on an excellent performance and that my dreamy sigh and adoring gaze are all an act. I wonder how he’d react if he knew the truth.