Page 5 of The Fine Art of Faking It
Eden heard Bruce commenting on the park’s holiday decorations at full volume to the Gateses.
“Well, look at this collection of coats!” Phoebe Pierce towing her husband, John, wandered up to the coat stand. “We’ll be keeping the whole town warm this year, won’t we?” she asked with a pretty smile.
John was warm and farmerly in a worn flannel coat. He had his arm anchored around Phoebe’s waist. None of the couple’s sons were nearby. “How’s everything going, Ned?” John asked. John Pierce was a calming influence, and Eden hoped he’d be able to squelch the argument before it came to blows… like at last year’s Sit-In reenactment.
Eden’s father quit his attempt to moon the Gateses—saving half the town from a view of his practically albino ass cheeks—and shook John’s hand. “Great, John. Real great. How are your boys?”
“Mom! Can I borrow ten bucks?” Jax, the youngest Pierce boy, barreled up. He paused long enough to give Eden a flirtatious wink. He was a few years behind her in school, but the Pierce brothers were a danger to women of all ages.
“What did your father just tell you six minutes ago?” Phoebe sighed.
“He said no,” Jax answered cheerfully.
Phoebe rolled her eyes heavenward. “Why did we have three boys again?” she sighed.
“Because you asked for girls,” John grinned.
Lilly Ann’s forced laughter was too loud. “Oh, John and Phoebe! You’reso funny! No wonder you’resuch good friends of ours!”
To Eden’s recollection, John and Phoebe Pierce had never once set foot in the Moody house.
“We’dloveto come to dinner next week, Bruce!” Ferguson bellowed at full volume from across the way.
“We’resohonored you would invite us!” Tilly chimed in.
Judging from Mr. Oakleigh’s confused expression, no such invitation had been extended. In feuds as in war, gathering allies was an important part of the battle.
Eden felt a hot rush over her half-frozen skin and realized Davis was finally looking in her direction. She gave him a playful “aren’t they insane” shrug. But he didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge the family crazy that was spilling over into the HeHa festivities.
Nerves settled like an entire carton of ice cream in Eden’s stomach.
4
“Damnit,” Donovan Cardona, track star, son of Blue Moon’s sheriff, and one of Davis’s best friends, scowled at his lopsided bowtie in the bathroom mirror.
Davis snorted at his friend’s disastrous attempt at neckwear as he carefully adjusted his own borrowed tie. He had a knack for it, he realized, straightening the knot. Though he doubted that skill would ever come in handy.
“Maybe just lose the bowtie?” Davis suggested.
“No.” Donovan was adamant. He’d bet Carter Pierce ten bucks that he could show up to the HeHa dance in a nerdy bowtie and still score a dance with Llewellyn Chang, a notoriously high-maintenance, un-gettable senior, and he was determined to collect. Davis respected that.
He took pity on Donovan and made quick work of the bowtie.
“Thanks, man. So, you finally gonna put the moves on Moody?” Donovan asked, sliding a comb through his blond hair.
Davis skated a guilty glance at the still closed bathroom door. Donovan and their friend Carter Pierce were the only people who knew about his feelings for Eden. And even they didn’t know just how serious his crush was. “Don’t say that name too loud. My parents will have a cow.”
“You’re eighteen. A man,” Donovan insisted. “What are they going to do about it?”
Donovan’s parents didn’t have the golden guilt trip that Davis’s did. His father’s heart attack when he was a kid—a terrifying time for their family—still loomed like an ugly, dark cloud.
When he was being too enthusiastic with his bongo playing.Don’t upset your father.
Every day of his learner’s permit.Are you trying to kill me?
And, of course, after his mother’s fender bender with a lamp post on Patchouli Street.Let’s just not tell your father about this. He doesn’t need any more stress in his life.
“It’s complicated,” Davis sighed.
