Page 45 of Zero Pucks Given
My first thought was the kiss at the Spurs game, but then Iremembered Manny was snapping photos across the river. I glanced in that direction, then said, “So you didn’t become fake until you got rich and famous. Makes sense.”
Grayson shrugged. “Everyone lies sometimes. Nobody is a hundred percent genuine with everyone they come across. We hide our true selves like a vulnerability until we find someone we can actually trust to be ourselves around.”
The comment was so unexpected, so philosophical, that I didn’t have any biting response ready. “Have you ever trusted anyone that much?” I asked instead, eager to continue the conversation.
“I’ve come close before.” He stared off. “An ex-girlfriend. She’s the only person I’ve ever been my true self around… although there was one big lie I told.”
I perked up. “Okay, I have to hear this. What big lie?”
“It was an innocent lie, but it became big the longer it went on.” Grayson let out a long sigh. “It’s stupid…”
“No!” I leaned forward. “I want to hear it. Tell me. It’ll make this fake date go by faster.”
He smirked, then stared down at the River Walk for a few seconds. “Her name was Ashley. We dated my sophomore year of college. On one of our first dates, we were at a coffee shop when this guy next to us started eating a peanut butter sandwich. It must have been some kind of homemade peanut butter, because it waspungent.This guy was eating it as slowly as possible, too. He’d eat a bite, put it back down, chew it slowly. It was all we could focus on, distracting us from our date. I wanted to get to know this girl, so I turned to the guy and told him I had a peanut allergy. After he moved, Ashley asked if it was true… and I said yes.”
“Uh oh,” I said.
“I don’t know why I said yes. I could’ve told her the truth, but I guess I didn’t want her to think I was the kind of guy who lied to strangers. But I immediately realized it was a mistake. Ashley was really concerned, and asked me a million questions about the allergy. Ianswered a few and then changed the subject. I thought that was it, the topic was over. It didn’t matter because this was just some girl I had gone on, like, one date with.
“Fast forward six months. We’re in a full-blown relationship, and her entire friend group knows about my made-up peanut allergy. They warn restaurants for me when we go out to eat. They check ingredients. They even got the campus cafeteria to stop serving peanut butter cookies.” He leaned across the table. “Josie, I fuckinglovepeanut butter cookies. They’re my favorite. Reese’s Cups, too. But now I was pretending they would literally kill me if I came within a few feet of any peanut butter treat.”
I was giggling uncontrollably by this point, but waved for him to go on.
“The thing about hockey is that it burns a lot of calories. During the season, which is when we were dating, we had two-a-days. Hockey practice in the morning before class, and again in the afternoon. Growing up poor, peanut butter was one of the most cost-effective ways for me to get calories. I had jars of peanut butter hidden in my dorm room like I was a fucking alcoholic stashing booze! But I was in too deep. I couldn’t admit that I had lied, not after months of pretending.”
“What did you do?” I asked between laughs.
“We eventually broke up, for reasons unrelated to peanut butter. Honestly, being able to eat Reese’s Cups in public again took away the sting of the breakup.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped his margarita. “But that six months pretending to have a peanut allergy helped prepare me for faking enthusiasm as a pro athlete.”
“And people say college doesn’t teach life skills!” I replied.
Our laughter and smiles were genuine—there was no faking that. For a few moments, it felt like I was chatting with a friend rather than someone I was contractually obligated to be around. Even his smile was slightly different, morereal.
Then the server returned with our food, and the fake smile returned.
After dinner, we went for a walk along the River Walk while Manny jogged ahead of us and snapped candid photos. “You two are doing a much better job pretending tonight,” he said after a few minutes. “But can you ramp it up a little bit?”
Both of us tensed. “Ramp it up how?” Grayson asked.
“Put your arm around her or hold hands or something.”
Grayson sighed and glanced sideways at me.
“Make it convincing,” I said, leaning closer to him. “We don’t want to give Bob any excuse to complain.
“Amen to that.”
The way he slid his arm around my waist was so effortless and natural. It felt strangelyright, especially as I wrapped an arm around him.
We walked along in silence, not sure what to say.
“I’m surprised they didn’t have a makeup guy touch up your face before these photos,” I said.
“They offered, but I said no,” he answered. This close, I could feel the rumble of his voice through his skin.
“Too manly to wear makeup?”
“I worked hard for these scars,” he replied. “The last thing I want to do is cover them up.”
