Page 63 of Lessons in Faking
Apparently for the same reason I’d showered and done my hair, put a single wave in my curtain bangs, and let the rest of the brown layers fall down my back. I sighed at my reflection in the mirror, green eyes behind round glasses staring back at me.
Maybe Ishouldhave brought my contacts with me. Then again, my reasoning was solid. I predicted tears on Thanksgiving with the same probability as rain in London, which is why I opted against makeup today too.
Downstairs, I walked in on McCarthy playing Monopoly with his sisters. His pained expression spoke for itself, but the few notes of cash laid out in front of him confirmed it. He was losing.
I’d never seen him lose anything.
It was his turn, and he was concentrating enough that my arrival went unnoticed. “I have enough to buy this,” he thought aloud, letting the rest of us be part of his process. His finger tapped one of the two dark blue streets. “But then I’m literally left with ten dollars.” His groan rang through the room. My lips quirked as I watched.
“What can I say? Capitalism’s a bitch, little brother,” Denise teased.
Dakota kicked his leg under the table impatiently. “Justbuy the damn thing, Dylan. You’re holding up the entire game.”
“Fuck off,” he shot back half-heartedly, but put the notes in the bank, searched for the right card in the stack, and placed a house on his square.
“Youfuck off.”
I made my way toward the five of them, finally drawing his attention. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” McCarthy drawled, gesturing to the chair beside him. “We’ve been up waiting for you to emerge from your coma since eight this morning. Even waited with breakfast.”
The smile on my face fell. I wasn’t sure whether to snap at him formakingthem wait or apologize to everyone forhavingto wait. I opted to avoid eye contact and say nothing.
“Oh, come on, Dylan.” Diana snickered. Her hair was cut short in a way that screamedno bullshitthe same way her voice did. “Don’t be a dick—you’ve been up for an hour, tops.” Before she even finished her sentence, my head swiveled in McCarthy’s direction, eyes twitching into a glare.
“Timeisrelative.” The wink that accompanied his words made me roll my eyes. McCarthy mouthed asorry. Noticing my glare, an amused pout formed on his lips. “Old habits die hard,” he rasped, head tilting with the hum of his voice.
“Seems like it.” His sisters were watching Delilah’s next move. By the look of it, she was in the lead, and I took advantage of the distraction.
“Never took you for a risk-taker,” I noted casually, nodding at the property he’d bought as if I hadn’t just placedmy hand on his thigh. As if I wasn’t trailing along the muscles underneath his gray sweats. He tensed under my touch, jaw rigid, and his eyes warily following every single movement of my hand. He cleared his throat, glanced around the table. I dared to inch my hand higher. Higher. And higher again. Until he trapped it underneath his.
“Have some mercy on me, Athalia,” he muttered under his breath.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered sweetly, eyes batting. When I stood up to circle behind his chair, he exhaled sharply the moment my hand fell from his leg. I placed it on his shoulder instead. “Old habits die hard,” I whispered from behind him.
His head fell back playfully, trying his best to look at me. I raised my brows.
“I’ll be helping your mom. Good luck, risk-taker.” With one last nod in the direction of the game board, I strolled into the kitchen.
*
By three o’clock, I felt bad enough to ask where to find the nearest grocery store. I really should’ve stopped for chocolate or wine or flowers on the way here. Shown some gratitude. Wasn’t that what this stupid day was about in the first place?
Nothing could stop me from getting to that store.
Well, nothing but my turned-off phone. There was no way in hell I was turning it on today. The thought of accidentally stumbling across an article or a rogue condolencetext—that came a little late for the actual date but perfectly timed to make me spiral—was enough to tighten the knot in my stomach.
So leaving my phone off was a no-brainer.
I had planned to sneak out quickly without anyone noticing, then return with a nice bottle of wine or other treat to make it seem like I had them with me all along. But with my phone temporarily out of order, I couldn’t just google the nearest store or use Maps to get there. Unfortunately, that only left me with one other option: a tall brunette boy I didn’t think I hated anymore.
“Can I use your phone?”
“For what?”
“Just need to check something real quick.” My eyes darted through the living room, taking in the way we all sat pressed together on one of the white couches, facing the TV. My voice lowered, and I was still following the football game on the screen, hoping that I didn’t look suspicious when I whispered, “And take it somewhere. Won’t be longer than half an hour.” Right? “I think.”
“You think?” he mocked. “And what is it you need to check, Princess?” He bumped my shoulder with his. We were sitting close enough that he didn’t have to move much for that.
“Just...” I shrugged. “Something.”
