Page 57 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
It’s simultaneously gross and very impressive. “You’re a man of many talents.”
He takes a bow, and for a second, it feels like things might be all right. That whatever it is we have together won’t go to waste.
The song plays on, and I listen more closely now, as if it’ll help me figure out the puzzle that is the boy sitting across from me. “This isn’t exactly a ‘fun vacation up at the lake’ song,” I tease. The melancholy ballad has more of a “sobbing in your room” vibe.
“I know. But it reminds me of you.” I don’t have enough time to read into why a song about a giant squid makes Julian think of me.
A new text comes in during the last round of the chorus. I break away from the hold Julian and New Nostalgia have on me to scan the message from Maya.
The eagle has landed.
Shit.
Hell hath no fury like Maya Nicole Báez scorned, but even she should be able to see that Julian doesn’t deserveto pay for other people’s mistakes. Empathy and forgiveness aren’t our strong suits, but we’re not so hell-bent on revenge that we’d punish an innocent bystander. She’s probably just messing with me; she wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t stoop to their level.
Or maybe she already has.
“If that’s cool with you, though,” Julian says, having gone pink in the few seconds I stopped listening to him.
“One second.”
I push past Julian, racing to the front door as quickly as my legs will carry me. The world seems too bright when I step outside, the trees shrouded in glare. I hold my hand up to my eyes, squinting at our roof for any sign of Maya, but I don’t spot her. We’re safe.
Julian appears behind me, nearly out of breath. “Hey, you okay?”
“M’fine,” I mumble, scrutinizing our cabin one last time before turning to face him. “Sorry, I…thought I heard something.”
Julian scans the front yard, brow furrowed. “You could’ve just said no.”
“What?”
“To the concert. You didn’t have to run away.”
That’s the last time I storm out of a room in the middle of a conversation. “What concert?”
“New Nostalgia? In April?” His cheeks flush as he shifts his gaze down to his shoes. “I have an extra ticket since Stella decided to spend her spring break back home instead, but if you’re busy, or you don’t want to go, it’s fine. I get it.”
He launches into a new line of thought before I canprocess what he’s said. “I knew this would be a bad day to do this. But we’re going to be heading home soon and I thought, hey, maybe now’s the time to finally ask him, and clearly that was a stupid idea, so—”
Over his shoulder, I spot her. Maya steps out from behind the chimney, closing one eye as she prepares to take aim, Andy right beside her. Their target is clear, and my stomach twists so painfully I almost double over.
“I need to go,” I say, interrupting Julian midsentence.
All the color drains from him. It tears at me, but I can feel guilty later. I can think about what all of this, the invitation, the song, the everything about us, means then too.
“O-okay,” he croaks out, sounding so close to tears that it makesmewant to cry.
If Maya doesn’t kill me, the look on Julian’s face will. Everything that makes him so uniquely wonderful—the light in his eyes, the pink in his cheeks, the warmth in his smile—fades at once. We’re those ten-year-olds again, standing on opposite sides of the battlefield, waiting to get hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he adds.
I’ve never wanted to apologize more than I do in that moment. But I bite my tongue when I spot Maya gearing up to throw the first set of balloons. If I’m lucky, he’ll go back inside. If I’m even luckier, he’ll speak to me again.
For once, luck is on my side. He turns on his heels without another word, slamming the door behind him seconds after Maya launches her first attack.
The onslaught isn’t as painful as I would’ve thought. Besides the smell, the blood feels oddly soothing on my still-sore body. The snap of the balloons bursting against my cheek,waist, and arms, stings more than the impact itself. The smellishorrendous, though. It’s so far up my nose I don’t think I’ll ever be able to smell clearly again.
Either minutes or hours go by when a hand closes around my wrists, yanking me forward. I can hardly see through the gunk clinging to my eyelashes, tripping over myself as Maya drags me into the woods. Breaking my neck on an overgrown tree stump wouldn’t be a bad solution at this point, though.
