Page 24 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“Stop staring at me. I’m getting hives.” That makes me burst into laughter.
“Sorry,” I say, forcing my gaze to the stage.
Luckily, we’re distracted by the opening act. Neither Cata nor I know them, so we stay seated, clapping whenever they finish a song and showing respect to their performance even if it's not our style.
However, as soon as Isabella Ada makes her way onto the stage, we’re on our feet. Cata is screaming at the top of her lungs, clapping as enthusiastically as I am. The first few songs are fast-paced, and Cata sways her hips to the music in a way that has me watching her with a smile instead of focusing on Isabella almost the whole time.
When one of her slower songs streams through the speakers, I slip my fingers through Cata’s and twist her until she’s pressed against me.
“Baila conmigo, cariño.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, the desire to voice them too strong to resist. She rolls her eyes but places her arms around my nape, allowing me to put my hands on her hips. Her fresh, senses-consuming scent fills my nose as I place my cheek on the crown of her head, swaying to the music.
It’s so very difficult to remember that this is fake when nothing has ever felt this right to me before.
Chapter 11
Santiago
Manuelaissittingacrossfrom me, smirking like she’s having the time of her life. Growing up as a twin, I’ve become used to seeing my face reflected back at me whenever I look at my sister. We may not be identical, but we might as well be, considering how much alike we look. We share the same nose, brown hair, amber eyes, and sharp facial structure. But as my sister continues smirking, I finally realize why Cata hates it so much when I wear that expression.
It’s irritating.
“So, how was the concert?” my sister asks, crossing her legs and playing with the hem of her shirt.
“That was two weeks ago,” I remind her, but she shrugs.
“Well, I only came back today. I need to be filled in on everything,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest and showing off her trained forearms.
“Alright, so, the media has been posting us everywhere. Clips of the concert have gone viral. Cata and I made our relationship official on social media. We have been training together almost every single day for the past three weeks, and while we are getting better as hitting partners instead of acting like rivals, we’ve refrained from going on any more public dates.” I take a deep breath before continuing, my eyes trained on the chaos on the table in front of me. “We’ve had two more mandatory dinners, but we hardly spoke during those.” Tornado jumps on the couch beside me before hopping onto my lap and making himself comfortable while I keep scrapbooking. I swear, sometimes he’s more like a cat than a bunny in all of his mannerisms, and I know it’s because he grew up with them in his previous home, but it never fails to amaze me.
Even though I’ve finished my rant and have piled on a lot of information, Manu stays silent, still smirking.
“Okay, would you fucking stop that?” I ask, my little outburst making Tornado look up at me with annoyance in his copper eyes. I stroke his tri-color—brown, black, and white—fur.
“Stop what?” Manu asks, feigning confusion.
“That look. Stop it. I know what you’re thinking,” I reply, but she bursts into laughter.
“Oh, Santi, I doubt that.” Manuela’s vagueness is nothing new to me, but when it comes to talking about Cata, I can’t stand it. I know so little about my own feelings. The least she could do is share hers with me. “You have no other plans to be seen with her in public?”
“I do. We’re going out for New Year’s Eve tomorrow night. Matteo is throwing his annual party, which has gotten out of hand with all the people he has invited, but I’m not surprised. Matteo’s parties always turn into chaos.”
I shudder at the thought of his Halloween party three years ago.
“A party? Papá approved this?” she asks, standing up to cross the space between us, lift Tornado into her arms, and flop back onto her couch with my son while I scowl because she took him from me.
“Yeah, I discussed it with him, but since I’m taking mygirlfriend, he was only too happy about it.” I clear my throat before saying, “‘I think that’s a great idea,mijo. One last chance to make a statement before we leave for the Australian Open a week later.’”
My imitation of our father has Manu laughing so hard, tears collect at the corners of her eyes. I can’t help but join her until I’m face first on the couch. I don’t know how long it takes until both of us sober up, but eventually, silence fills the space between us.
It’s comfortable.
It always is with Manu.
I go back to scrapbooking, all of my tools on the coffee table in front of me. I pick up the scissors and cut out a piece of paper from a magazine Manu brought me from when she was traveling.
“How’s Madalena?” I ask, the mention of her girlfriend’s name making her face fall from amused to irritated. “Oh no. What happened?”
