Page 45 of Devil on Skates
Still, the alternative is far worse. Letting Xavier lose the dream he’s chased since he was a kid... How could I pick my own happiness over that?
Besides, my dad’s probably right, and I let everyone down eventually. I didn’t live up to what he wanted from me with the Costellos, or what Keith expected from a proper girlfriend, and I’m only doing it now because I was forced into it. I probably would’ve failed Xavier too, once reality got in the way of our crazy connection.
At least this way, my failure has a purpose. My misery buys him a real chance at going pro, and my sacrifice keeps his dream alive.
That’s how I survive every day as I post staged photos to show that I’m okay with Keith. We’re going to the right places and I flash fake smiles when I have to. I’ve gotten good at pretending to be happy while staying distant inside.
Keith seems fine with it too, and I have no idea if he realizes or even cares that I’m faking it. He accepts my act without digging deeper, content with the surface. Relationships like these are more about appearances than real feelings anyway.
I PICK OUT THE DRESSKeith said he liked and simple jewelry that says classy but isn’t too much. After making sure my makeup’s done just right, I look the part. The coach’s daughter and the perfect girlfriend for some future business big shot.
Underneath all that, the real me is locked away, confused, hurting, and furious about being pushed into a fake life. But the real me doesn’t get to speak here.
Keith shows up exactly on time. When I open the door, he looks me up and down like he’s checking off a list, then gives me the usual kiss on the cheek, which is expected and meaningless.
“You look perfect,” he says. “We should head out now to beat the traffic.”
In the car, we run through the usual chatter about his studies, his dad’s business, and the social eventsweshould consider. I say just enough to seem interested.
Once we get to the restaurant, the host spots Keith right away and leads us to the best table with views of the whole place and the street outside.
I pretend to care about the menu and nod along as Keith orders wine. It’s exhausting, but I can’t imagine dropping the act, because Xavier’s career depends on it.
“Everything okay?” Keith asks after ordering for both of us.
I used to find that annoying, but now I barely react. “I’m tired.”
“Your sleep schedule is a disaster. Fix it. Rest’s important for your brain and, well, your looks.”
His concern is really about me looking the part, and not about me feeling okay. He wants to disguise control as care.
“I’ll try,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Good. My dad said you seemed withdrawn last weekend. We need to look like a team, especially with those upcoming networking events.”
Ah, of course. His dad has a bunch of people watching my every move, as if the Costellos are a royal family. They probably believe they are, though.
“I’m sorry if I let your dad down,” I say, keeping my tone pleasant, even though I want to clench my jaw.
“You didn’t. It’s just an observation,” Keith says, giving me what is supposed to be a charming smile. “He’s just invested in our success.”
Invested. Success. The Costellos really look at everything as if it was a business deal.
When the appetizers come, my mind flies to the time when Xavier and I were eating takeout in his dorm, laughing without any scripts and just being ourselves. With Xavier, I was real. With Keith, I’m like a puppet on a string.
“There’s a hockey game this weekend,” Keith says casually, but there’s something else in his voice.
“Oh?”
“It should be a good game.” He watches me carefully. “We should go and support your dad.”
My heart skips a beat as I stare at him. Watching Xavier play is going to hurt like hell. And doing it while pretending to be with Keith will be pure torture for both of us.
“Why should we go?” I ask, trying to sound as normal as possible, even though I’m freaking out. “I mean, won’t it be weird—?”
I had to profusely apologize to Keith to get him to take me back, and I promised him I wouldn’t go anywhere near Xavier again. He’s not supposed to know about my deal with his dad, but maybe he does, because this is weird.
“And why not?” A sly smile curves his lips. “Come on, your dad’s the coach. Supporting your family feels great, doesn’t it?”
