Page 16 of The Midseason Fakeout

Spinning, she checks our surroundings and then gives me a confused look. “There’s no one here to pretend for.”

“Don’t you think it would be hard to turn it on and off?” I rush out. The truth is,Angeljust kind of popped out. It felt fitting in the moment where she was backlit by the sun.

So we don’t get stuck on the subject, I ask, “What do you think of your new nickname?”

She shrugs. “It’s good, I guess.”

I wave her toward my car. “Do you have one for me?” Opening the passenger door for her, I tilt my head in thought. “Something masculine.” She gets in, and I move around the car to the driver’s side. “Adonis?” I throw out there.

She scrunches up her face as I get in. “That’s a mouthful with a healthy dose of weird.”

“Hotcakes?”

She giggles. “Like McDonald’s?”

The engine roars as I start the car. “Fine. Whatcha got?”

“Babe?” she offers.

“Boring,” I chime while maneuvering through the parking lot and pointing the car toward Richie’s. “Stud?”

She waffles back and forth. “Contender. Possibly. Though a little self-satisfying if you ask me.”

“Well, what did you call your last boyfriend?”

Shifting in the seat, she avoids my gaze. “Just, you know, his name.”

“Wow, you really are lame,” I tease.

Her mouth drops. “Maybe you’re too out there. Would people actually buy it if I walk around calling youstud?”

“I mean, I am, so…”

She reaches over to hit me playfully. “Maybe QB1?”

“But everyone calls me that. It needs to be special.”

“I don’t know,” she says, clearly frustrated. “I like timeless, so maybe justbabe. It’s an oldie but goodie.”

“Meh,” I grouse. I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it either. It’s what everyone else uses.

“Forget it,” she says. “I’ll just call you Aidan. Problem solved.” She peers over at me, her eyes latching to mine. “Just Aidan. I love your name.”

Her words wash over me like a comforting ray of sunshine after a rainstorm.JustAidan. “If you insist,” I tell her, trying to keep my tone light even though my stomach has tightened. I realize it’s a weird thing to get emotional about, but I had to fight for my name once, so it’s a big deal to me. “What’s Darrin up to?” I ask quickly to change the subject.

Her shoulders drop, obviously less thrilled by the topic shift. “I don’t know. I left him in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal and warning me not to get pregnant.”

I gasp so hard I choke. My fingers tighten against the wheel. “You’re serious? Your brother thinks I’m going to knock you up?”

“He thinks there’s a chance since we’re having sex. I mean, he assumes we’re having sex,” she clarifies. “Of course he does. That’s obviously what you do in college.”

She waves at me like I’m a prime example, and the contents of my breakfast churn in my gut. We’ve been fake dating for less than twenty-four hours, so I haven’t had the chance to think about all the ramifications. I’ll have to have a talk with Darrin, but more importantly, does she really think that’s all you do in college? “Is that on your list of things to do now that you’re free?” I ask, feeling big brotherly, like maybe I should give her the talk too. “Not with me—obviously—but, I mean, if you’re going to, you should be safe, and you’ll have to figure out how to do it on the down-low or else it’ll look like you’re cheating on me.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to fake cheat on you.”

For a moment, I feel like an ass when she turns away to look out the window. Maybe that’s exactly what she wants to do, and I can’t really tell her not to. That’s not fair. We’re not actually dating. “You could find someone who doesn’t go to this school? Or, you know, if you do find someone and we have to break up, we will. Don’t feel pressured to stick this out if something better comes along.”

She turns toward me, fire in her eyes. “Listen, we don’t need to talk about sex. I’m good.”

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