Page 63 of Better Than the Movies
The shadows were creepy, so I kept jogging to the back gate, forgetting any semblance of coolness or composure. I pulled up the arm, opened the gate, and whisper-yelled, “Wes?”
“Over here.”
I could barely see because the thick trees blocked out the moon, but I walked in the direction of his voice. I went around a flowering bush and a wide fir tree, and then there he was.
“Oh my God, Wes.” I looked around, amazed.
There were hundreds of tiny twinkling lights strung in a grouping of trees that circled four wooden Adirondack chairs, one of which Wes was sitting in. A firepit roaring with flames was at the center of everything, and a rock waterfall ran behind him. The space was so thick with foliage that it felt like a wild, hidden spotinstead of a suburban backyard. “This is incredible. Did your mom do all of this?”
“Nah.” He shrugged and looked uncomfortable. Wes Bennett looked awkward—for perhaps the first time ever—and he sat there with his long legs stretched out in front of him and looked up at the sky. “This is my favorite spot, so I actually did it.”
“Nope.” I sat down in the chair across from him. “You didn’t do this. No way.”
“Yes way.” He kept his eyes up and said, “I worked for a landscaping company three summers ago, and everything we charged clients a fortune for, I would just do myself back here. Retaining walls, waterfalls, pond; it’s all simple and cheap to make if you know what you’re doing.”
Who was this guy?
Tucking my legs underneath me, I pulled my sleeves over my fingers and looked up at the sky. It was clear and there were stars everywhere. “Bella Luna”—a very old Jason Mraz song—was the choicest of all musical numbers to set the background for this surprise moonlit oasis.
Bella luna, my beautiful, beautiful moon
How you swoon me like no other—
I stopped the music in my head and said, “Hey, I saw Michael today.”
“I know.”
I squinted, trying to better see his face in the darkness, searching for some giveaway. He just kept looking at the sky, though. “He told you?”
“He did.” I looked at Wes’s profile. His lips barely moved as he quietly said, “He texted me. Said he’d run into you and, Liz—he said you were funny.”
“He did?” I wanted to howl. I knew it. “Whatexactlydid he say?”
“He said, ‘She’s pretty funny.’ And then he mentioned the get-together at his house.”
“Yep. I said I’d give you a shot.” I looked into the fire. Funny—he’d said I was funny. That was good, right? I guess that meant my awkwardcoconutstext hadn’t kicked me off the island. “But part of me worries that I’m screwing up my chances with our little version of fake-dating.”
That brought his eyes right back to my face. “You want to quit?”
I shrugged and wondered what he was thinking. Because as fun as this actually was, and in spite of the fact that it was kind of working, I was done with all the lying. I said, “I always think I know what I’m doing, but what if you’re right about my terrible grand plans? What if I’m just ruining both of our dating lives?”
And jeopardizing my friendship with Joss and also sinking into a life of habitual dishonesty.
“Then I’ll have to kill you. Dating is my everything.”
“Smart-ass.” I rolled my eyes because, for a popular guy, I’d only ever heard of him being in a few relationships, none of which had turned into anything serious.
I ran my teeth over my bottom lip and said, “Maybe you should take me to Michael’s, and then we should decide we aren’t a match. And, I don’t know, send out a group text?”
I blinked fast and tried to figure out why the thought of beingdone with our plan made my heart beat in my neck.
He looked at me then, and I was surprised by how soft his smile was. He looked almost sweet as he said, “I can’t believe your ridiculous plan is working.”
“Right?”
He kind of laughed and so did I, and then he said, “I really am sorry about earlier, by the way.”
I waved a hand. “No biggie.”
