Page 9 of The Perils of Pretending
We go through the scanners without any issues. I collect my items from security and head to the benches. I put my sandals back on and donate my socks to the nearest trash can. While Brody gets his belt in place, I realize he does it exactly how I do—the rare times I actually wear a belt. I smile. It’s easy to tell we’re siblings. We share the same rich brown hair (I put some blond highlights into mine), widow’s peak, and connected earlobes. Our younger sister Poppy has all these features too. Dad’s genetics were a little too strong for any of us to get Mom’s auburn tresses.
“Let’s go see Poppy,” Mom says, fastening her watch back on her wrist.
Brody picks up his messenger bag, sliding the strap over his shoulder. “Snack time.”
I bite my tongue, stopping myself from telling Brody the airport is way overpriced and he should bring his own snacks from home, but I also don’t have a lot of room to talk since I allow myself one tiny—but delicious—indulgence when traveling. Popping into the chocolate store around the corner from security, I get my beloved apple. I hold the white sack to my chest, protecting my precious treasure.
We walk along Concourse A until we get to Poppy’s store. At the front is a table and clothing rack displaying shirts and sweaters with Utah logos. An entire wall of electrical cords, travel pillows, and medicine is to the right. In the back, snacks hang in little bags.
Whatever oil Poppy is diffusing makes the store smell like a grove of orange trees. It’s perfect for this summer morning.
By the register, Dani’s viral romantasy,Of Curses and Pomegranates,is on display. I smile at the novel that made Dani famous and skyrocketed my editing business. She totally deserves all the hype she’s received from her book. We worked so hard on this one together. Fans, myself included, are dying for the sequel. She’s been struggling with the characters refusing to talk to her lately, which is why she’s heading to Oregon in threedays to write for a while. Dani, Avery, and I are praying that the change of scenery sparks inspiration.
A line of customers waits for Poppy to ring up their purchases. She looks over, smiling at us with a big grin. Her dark hair is in long loose waves, with a yellow bandana tied up like a headband, the ends forming a bow on top of her head. Poppy’s style is bohemian. She accessorizes with multiple bracelets on each arm, dangly earrings, necklaces, and she almost always wears flowy skirts. She’s gorgeous and always looks cute.
I prefer my girl-next-door wardrobe. The number of comfy jeans, striped shirts, and blazers I own is a little ridiculous, but I love them. Unlike Poppy, I have a single delicate gold bracelet I wear on my right wrist, a stackable gold chain necklace, and a gold Claddagh ring on my left middle finger that I purchased on my graduation trip to Ireland.
Besides the multiple piercings in my ears, the rest of me is simple, classic, and uncomplicated.
“I found them!” Brody holds two pink bags in the air like he pulled the sword out of the stone.
I yank one of the packages out of his hand. “Hey, thanks for getting those for me,” I say, reading the front of the bag. He’s picked out vanilla pomegranate cashews.
The side-eye Brody gives me is one only parents and teachers master. “Nice try. Give ’em back.”
“Think fast.” I toss the bag at him.
Brody barely manages to catch the bag before it can land on the floor. “Very mature.”
I grin at him. I don’t even like that kind of cashew. Brody raved about them a few years ago. I tried them and they’re just okay. There are plenty of other nuts that taste way better—honey roasted peanuts, chili lime almonds, and apple cider donut cashews.
“What’s your snack of choice?” I ask Max out of politeness. He’s standing in front of the wall of treats, staring at each item like what he picks means life or death.
“I’m not a huge fan of sweets, and I’m not craving anything else right now. I might wait until we get to Seattle to get something.”
My brain is having the hardest time wrapping around the fact that he isn’t a sweets person. I can’t even fathom what that would be like. Food is my second greatest love next to books, especially desserts. I think back to holidays and other family events Max has attended with us and admit I’ve never seen him eat cake or pie. Then again, I don’t really keep tabs on him either. I prefer chatting with my cousins. They don’t annoy me like Max does.
“What do you normally get when you’re hungry?” I ask.
Mom’s arm brushes against mine as she reaches for a bag of chocolate-covered raisins. “Found what I want.”
For reals, people need to plan for snacks before getting to the airport. Don’t they care about saving money?
“I like granola bars and fruit trail mix,” Max says.
Boring. I eye the stack of books on a display case to my left. “Well, I’m going to keep browsing.”
“Tell me if you find anything good.”
Sure won’t.
I pretend to look at the novels on the shelf, but I downloaded a bunch of romantasy books on my e-reader yesterday and don’t need any more.
Glancing up, Max finally heads to the line, standing next to Brody and Mom as they wait to check out with Poppy.
As casual as can be, I quickly snatch a nut bar and trail mix, holding them behind my back. Max might think he doesn’t want anything, but what if we get stuck on the tarmac for hours on end? I can’t stand the guy most of the time, but I can’t let him starve either.
If it turns out he doesn’t need them, I’ll save them for my hiking backpack. But this way, I can get on the plane with a clear conscience. The hard part will be making sure Max doesn’t see me. I don’t need him making jokes about my over-preparedness again.
