Page 24 of Fake It Til You Break It

“Thanks. I researched it.”

Although I hadn’t poured myself into bed until well after three in the morning, I had woken just three hours later and immediately jumped onto my computer. I couldn’t even count the number of fashion blogs I had read or the YouTube videos I had watched.

They might as well have been in some archaic language for all the sense they made. Two hours in, I had finally given up in frustration and decided to copy one of the looks the best I could.

I didn’t own skinny jeans, so I had settled on a pair of fitted light-wash denim with a black leather belt. Instead of combat boots—I was going on a date, not to war—I had donned the sneakers I wore to play basketball with the kids. The top had taken the longest to select, and I had changed at least a dozen times before settling on a blue-and-white striped tee I had purchased on a whim and never worn.

Beckett chuckled, warm and indulgent. “Then it was time well spent.”

I loved that he never made me feel stupid or inept when I admitted things like that. He didn’t try to fix me or change me. He just met me where I stood, as if researching outfits and spiraling over accessories was the most normal thing in the world.

In a few short weeks, he had become a part of my life I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. A reliable constant, an unshakable foundation that never made me question my footing.

The way he looked at me, touched me, the things he said, they broke me. Not in irreparable ways, though. They shattered my walls so I could build something better, something stronger. Beckett made me want things I had never wanted before, but he also made me brave enough to reach out and take them.

“Jazz? Everything okay?”

Coming out of my thoughts, I blinked at him, my eyes open and clear for the first time. “I’m great.”

“You looked like you checked out for a minute.”

“Just having an epiphany.”

He tilted his head, his brow scrunched. “Do I ask?”

I shook my head and started walking again. Not yet. It had been a pretty big realization, and I needed to sit with it for a while.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Fair. Let me know when you’re ready.”

That was it. No prodding. No guilt. Just an invitation, a promise that he would be waiting when the time came.

“Where to next?” I asked.

“I want to see the water heifers.”

Frowning, I turned the phrase over in my head until I realized he meant the manatees. “I think they’re called sea cows.”

“That’s what I said.”

We exited the jellyfish corridor and rounded the corner, where we came to a bridge that extended over a manmade island with a flock of flamingos. Some waded in the water, searching out their lunch, while others stood in their signature one-legged pose, their heads tucked beneath their wings.

Beckett sighed. “That looks incredibly uncomfortable.”

Then he proceeded to try to recreate the position with the exact results I had expected. In the past, I probably would have been mortified by his antics, afraid of being judged for his behavior. Now, I simply didn’t care.

“You look like an idiot.” I turned away with a snort.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t mind me. I’m just going to be over here pretending I don’t know you.”

“I was just trying to make a point,” he argued.

“And what point would that be? That your neck isn’t two feet long?”

He pretended to consider this for a moment before bobbing his head. “Okay, that actually makes sense.”

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