Page 24 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
“Why does your dad only hang out with people who look like him?” I ask after mistaking yet another random man for Mr. Cooke.
Julian’s nervous expression quirks into an annoyed frown. “Does everything you say have to be sarcastic?”
I’m not being sarcastic. Everyone here resembles a sunburned Jon Hamm.
“Keep it moving,” Julian snips when I release his hand to grab a passing shrimp cocktail.
“Excuse you,” I reply around a mouthful of shrimp. “Aren’t you the one who said free food was part of the deal?”
Julian groans. “Can you just—”
An unfamiliar voice cuts him off before he can finish that thought.
“Hey, stranger,” a boy calls out as he slides up beside Julian, wrapping an arm low around his waist. “It’s about time I tracked you down.”
As expected, Liam is tall, handsome, and wearing a suit that’s probably worth more than Dad’s car. Clocking in at six-two with sandy hair and a tasteful artificial tan, he makes me feel impossibly small. He’s the type who wears confidence like a second skin, exudes a certain type of charisma. Some might call it charm. I call it cockiness.
“Liam! Hi!” Julian exclaims. “We were just looking for you.”
The “we” dawns on Liam slowly, his thick eyebrows knitting together in confusion until Julian grabs my waist and pulls me flush against his side. The arm Liam has around Julian jerks once I’m pressed up against it, his hand trapped between us in a weird throuple sandwich. Clearly, Liam asking to meet Julian’s supposed new boyfriend was his way of calling Julian’s bluff. But lo and behold, Julian delivered.
Despite his body’s reaction, Liam’s expression remains neutral. His eyes glaze over me, though not with the same interest he’d had for Julian. Less admiration, more “who the fuck is this?”
“I don’t think we’ve met.”
“This is Devin Báez,” Julian replies on my behalf while wriggling himself out of Liam’s grip. Once we’re free, he drops the arm around my waist to take my hand again, holding it up like a badge of honor. “My boyfriend.”
Watching Liam’s eyes rake down between the two of us toour linked fingers makes me go as clammy as Julian’s hands. “Nice to meet you,” I choke out.
“Likewise,” he replies, snapping his eyes away from our hands and up to my face. He flashes me a megawatt smile as he holds out his hand for me to shake. Rows of perfectly straight white teeth glisten in the light of the crystal chandelier.
How could Julian want nothing to do with someone so aesthetically pleasing?
“Interesting interpretation of business casual.” Liam waves his free hand at my ensemble. “Very ‘secondhand’ chic.”
Ah, that’s why.
My cheeks flush as I drop Liam’s hand. Why didn’t I think to bring a suit jacket with me?
Beside me, Julian’s jaw clenches at the backhanded compliment. “Liam,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his grip on me going from uncomfortable to straight up painful.
“What?” Liam waves him off. “It’s a compliment, I swear.”
As much as I want to defend myself and my choice in dinosaur-print shirts, I bite my tongue. If Maya were here, Liam would’ve gotten his ass handed to him by now, but I’m not as quick-witted. She sucked up all of our potential confidence in the womb. Instead, I stand my ground and hope the heat of Liam’s glare doesn’t turn me to ash. Besides, I’m here to play nice. Not cause a scene.
Before Julian can open his mouth to defend my honor, a more familiar voice cuts him off.
“Julian!” Mr. Cooke shouts, earning the attention of halfthe room. Julian pales while Liam’s smirk grows tenfold as we watch Mr. Cooke shove through the crowd to get to us, his eyes fixed on me.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Cooke,” Liam greets when he finally reaches us. “I just finished listening to your interview on the Florida Entrepreneurship Society’s podcast—really great stuff.”
Mr. Cooke’s frown drops long enough for him to beam at Liam. “You flatter me.” He sidesteps me in favor of patting Liam on the shoulder. “Will we be seeing you out on the green next week? Your dad mentioned your wrist injury was healing nicely.”
Liam holds up his right arm, not-at-all subtly flashing his Cartier watch. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Seeing Liam and Mr. Cooke side by side is jarring. If the theory that you’re more likely to date someone who looks like one of your parents is true, these two are a perfect example, with their matching coiffed hair and striking blue eyes. They’re even wearing the same shade of forest-green silk tie. More importantly, they have the same smile. Cunning and vicious and as artificial as their hair color.
Mr. Cooke pats Liam on the back one last time. “Good man.” Their bougie display of camaraderie comes to an end when Mr. Cooke’s attention shifts back to me and Julian, his expression souring.
