Page 72 of Catching Kyle
Kyle laughs. “None taken,” he says. “And that’s pretty much spot on.”
Amani looks at me. “And you had some bright idea?”
I chew on my lips, the idea not feeling as bright as it did this morning. Probably due to the post-sex high. But it’s the only thing I got.
“Fake-dating,” I say.
She tilts her head, then her eyes widen in recognition. “You aren’t thinking…”
“I definitely am,” I say, unable to keep in my laugh. “It’s insane, but I can’t think of anything else.”
“Wait,” Skye says. “Your idea is to have Kyle find a fake girlfriend?”
“And then you two can date in secret?” Josue asks.
“Damn,” Kyle says. “How did you all get that before me?”
“Most of us are romance readers and writers,” Amani says, patting him on the knee. “This is our bread and butter.”
Kyle shrugs.
“But what I’m stuck on is how we do this,” I say. I look at Kyle. “Who knows that your gay?”
He winces. “Well, you all now,” he says. “And my therapist.”
“She single?” Amani asks.
He gives her a vicious, but playful, side eye, his lip curled up. “She’s married. And old.”
She throws her hands up in defense. “Just asking.” They both laugh, and a pit forms in my stomach. They’re hitting it off better than me and Kyle did.
He sighs. “My ma doesn’t even know,” he says, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to find someone who I can trust to keep this thing secret? At least until the next season is over. I can’t think of anyone.”
The five us sit there in silence.
“Well,” Josue says. “The five of us know.”
We all look at him.
“Kyle and I can’t fake date for… obvious reasons. Michael, you can’t even real-date him. So that leaves…”
“I’m just saying, you and I would not work,” Skye says, shaking her head as she lays back into the couch. “You’re a gorgeous man, and I’m a beautiful woman. But I’m open and loud about being trans. And if they’re worried about you being gay, dating a trans-woman wouldn’t exactly cover up that reputation. It’d do the opposite.”
I frown. It sucks, but she’s probably right.
“So that leaves you, Amani,” Josue says.
She looks around at all of us as we stare at her, waiting for a response.
My heart begins to race. “But that one Chinese woman—Angie? You danced with her at the bar that one night. You got her number, right?”
“Yeah,” she says, frowning. “And she ghosted me.”
“Oh. You never told me that.”
“Not exactly exciting news to share,” she says. “But I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, patting her on the knee. Dating has been tough for Amani the past couple years, so I’m sure she’s more upset than she’s leading on.
