Page 21 of Love is Fake

“It wasn’t supposed to be an insult. All I meant was that girls with your looks aren’t normally into comics,” Lennox states quietly, making my heart beat faster in my chest.

“Graphic novels,” I correct automatically, earning another twelve nerd points before turning away from Lennox to scribble some nonsensical notes down just so he doesn’t see the flaming tomato my face has become.

Is he making fun of me? I wonder. But there’s no way I’m going to look at him to figure it out – much better to distract both of us from the awkwardness in the room. Or perhaps it’s just me feeling like that? Lennox is so full of confidence I doubt he’d be familiar with any hint of uncertainty.

Change the subject, Iz. Anything that’ll break the silence, which is becoming oppressive.

“So, how come you live all the way out here? I’m guessing most of the other guys on the team live closer to the city.”

I don’t risk looking at him until I feel some of the heat leave my face.

“It’s quiet here,” Lennox shrugs. “I’m not really into the whole bright lights, big city thing and fans can get a little crazy when they recognize me,” he says, seeming almost a little embarrassed at the admission, as if being a super hockey star and pin-up aren’t things he likes to admit to. “I grew up in a small town, so I guess I’m not all that comfortable in crowds.”

“Yeah, I know.” I freeze as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Lennox has a similar reaction, one I possibly wouldn’t pick up on if my hands weren’t on his body right now.

“You know?” he says and there’s no getting around the question. A conversation shift isn’t going to fly this time.

Taking a step back from the table, I take a deep breath and look into his face, his brow now furrowed in suspicion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “Not because I’m a crazy ‘I watch you while you sleep’ stalker, but because we grew up in the same town.”

And there goes the promise I’d made to myself less than 24 hours ago, not to mention our connection. But it was either that or let him think I’m about to go full single white female on him.

“Okay…” When I look up at Lennox, he’s staring at me as if I’m some kind of code he’s trying to break, a safe he’s trying to crack. If he ever found his way inside, I think he’d be sorely disappointed.

I shake my head, partly because it gives me a reprieve from his enquiring eyes. I’ve never been comfortable with people looking at me, especially when ‘people’ in this instance is Lennox Gray. “You wouldn’t remember me,” I tell him, thinking that’ll bring the conversation to somewhat of a pause. Of course, I’m wrong. Instead, it leads to more questions that I have to weave my way around avoiding.

“We’ve met?” Lennox frowns at me, tilting his head like he’s trying to place me. “Because I woulddefinitelyremember that.” He doesn’t bother to hide the frank appreciation in his eyes and I don’t need a mirror to know my cheeks have turned pink.

I nod, averting my eyes as I look back down at the hands I’m wringing together nervously, forcing myself to stop and calm down.

“St Patrick’s,” I explain.

Lennox blinks his dark brown eyes at me. He couldn’t look more surprised if I’d told him I was raised by wolves. “High school?”

“I looked different back then.” And isn’t that the understatement of the century. So much so that I almost wince at the memory of those days. They were definitely not my finest. There is a reason I never talk about my high school days and why I have no intention of ever going to a reunion. I’ve tried to put those times firmly in my rear-view mirror. And I was doing just fine with that until Lennox came along.

I wave a hand in front of my face. “Glasses, braces…more or less permanently dressed in dungarees stained with motor oil…,” I paint a picture for him, not sure if it’s worse if he remembers me or if he’s none the wiser.

Lennox squints hard like he’s trying to place me, perhaps see me with the red school lockers behind me. But no matter how many times he furrows his brows, it’s blatantly obvious he has absolutely no idea who I am.

I swallow down my ridiculous sense of somehow being let down. It doesn’t even make sense. Not being remembered is a win in my book, after all.

Still, Lennox looks a little stressed, so I decide to throw him a bone and save him from the discomfort of having to admit just how forgettable I was, or am, I guess.

“Don’t worry about it.” I wave away his concern at seeming rude. “You were a Senior when I was just a Sophomore. We didn’t exactly move in the same circles.” In fact, we might as well have been on different planets for all the interaction we had. Save for that one time when he apologized for his awful girlfriend. It’s a little galling when I consider that a moment that meant everything to me was so insignificant for him.

Lennox is silent for a while before he nods, as if it makes sense he wouldn’t remember me, despite the fact we didn’t go to a big high school. I don’t add that we shared a biology class because I skipped ahead on the sciences. We may have been at the same school, but between his star-athlete status and my special power of social invisibility we may as well have been in separate countries for all the cross-over we had.

I saw him every day for an entire year, he never saw me at all.

I shake my head to get a damn grip and remind myself I’m here to do a job and that’s it.

“Dizzy?”

I freeze at Lennox’s outburst, coupled with the snap of his fingers like he’s just solved a complex math equation. It’s the nickname his bitchy girlfriend Carly gave me way back when because I was so goddamned clumsy and somehow – much to my chagrin – it stuck.

Dizzy Izzy.

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