Page 84 of The Fake
“Go dancing with me.”
I hold my hand out for the magazine, and she squeals before putting it in my hands.
“If anyone asks, we went dancing.”
28
Chloe
Nathan: Plans June twentieth of next year?
Me: Let me think, I’ll have to check my calendar… nope, no plans. What’s up?
Nathan: Wanna make sure I have a date to the elaborate wedding Gabby’s planning. Do people really release live doves?
I’m lyingin bed holding my phone over my head with one hand. Sydney’s giving herself a pedicure on the bed next to me. Despite only getting a few hours of sleep last night, I’m wired and wide awake.
Me: Doves, butterflies… yeah, it’s a thing.
Nathan: Weird.
Me: So there’ll be no releasing of any wild animals at your wedding?
Nathan: Do I get a choice? The way Gabby’s forging ahead over here I don’t think Zeke’s getting a lot of say in the matter.
Me: Let’s pretend you do.
My chest squeezes as I wait for his response. I haven’t given a lot of thought to weddings or marriage but talking about it with Nathan feels… fun and I find myself wanting to know exactly how he sees the future, including whether he’s yay or nay to doves at his someday nuptials.
Nathan: I’m a simple guy. No doves, butterflies, or other defenseless animals should be harmed (or scared) in honor of my “special day” – Gabby’s words, obviously.
Nathan: Ready for tomorrow?
Me: Yeah. A little nervous. State is tough. We lost to them last year.
I yawn and turn on my side. I plug my phone in and wait for Nathan to respond.
Nathan: You lost to them at Golden?
Me: I meant Valley.
I didn’t face them at Golden, but I smile because I totally “we’d” myself like I’ve always been here.
Me: I should get some sleep.
Me: Night, handsome.
Nathan: Sweet dreams. Night, Surfer Princess.
I’m just about ready to crawl under the covers when there’s a knock at our suite door. Sydney calls out, “Come in.”
Emily and Bri come through the door that adjoins our rooms, arms full. Bri holds a two-liter of Diet Coke in one hand and the ice bucket in the other. Emily hurries behind her and unloads a bunch of mini liquor bottles onto the end of my bed.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Away game ritual,” Sydney says and walks over to my bed on her heels to keep her freshly painted nails from getting ruined.
Emily and Bri sit on the end of my bed, and I scoot over so Sydney can sit next to me.
