When she lets go of me, I look over to see Oliver and Ryan exchanging a smirk.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me as soon as you two started dating,” she scolds me.
“You’re right. How dare I want to keep anything private for a little while?”
“I know, I know,” she says. “But I had to hear it from Ryan walking in on the two of you.”
“I’m sorry. Do you wish you were the one who walked in on us?”
She nods. “Kind of. Yeah.”
We both laugh. Ryan steps toward her and hooks his arm with hers. “You would have been disappointed. They were both fully clothed.”
She shoots a horrified look at me. “Seriously? What kind of weird bible-study sex are you two having?”
Before I can answer, Oliver interrupts. “What time is our reservation? I’m starving.”
Tina pulls out her phone to look at the time. “Oh. I guess we should get inside.”
We all head toward the door. As we step inside, Oliver rests his hand on my lower back. I’m reminded of the way his hand felt on my waist when we were on his couch yesterday. His touch seems to burn through my shirt, and it’s all I can feel. I tune out all the noises of the restaurant. I’m only vaguely aware of Tina telling the hostess her name.
He keeps his hand on my back as we head to our table. When we get there, he lets go, and my back feels cold where it’s missing the touch of his hand. He pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit down.
“Thanks, babe,” I say as he sits down next to me. I’m making such a conscious effort to put on an act for Tina and Ryan that I accidentally use a term of endearment I’ve never used with anyone before.
“Don’t call me that,” he says.
I frown at him. He snaps his head up to look at me. We stare at each other for a minute, both of us realizing that we did something wrong. I steal a glance across the table at Tina to gauge her reaction. She’s frowning at us but Ryan doesn’t seem to notice.
“It reminds me of that movie about the pig,” Oliver says, then adds, “I thought we talked about this.”
“Oh. Right,” I say in what I hope is a convincing tone of agreement. This would have been helpful to know when we were talking about getting our story straight. Then I stifle a laugh, because I too am reminded of the movieBabe. It’s why I’ve never called anyone that before. “Sorry, babe.”
Oliver smirks and elbows me in the arm.
The waiter comes to the table and takes our order. The appetizer comes first along with a bottle of wine. I lick my lips, eyeing the bruschetta. As soon as the waiter is gone, all four of us dig in like starving animals.
I realize that as long as I’m stuffing my face, no one expects me to talk. This is a good thing, since I really don’t know what to say. I can’t talk about the plans for Tina’s proposal since Ryan is here and Tina doesn’t know that Oliver knows. Not being able to talk also means that I’m not actively lying about my fake relationship with Oliver.
The table is oddly quiet as everyone eats the appetizers. I wonder if Oliver has the same thought as me. I’m not the only one lying to my best friend. In a way, everyone at this table is keeping a secret from someone else.
“Pretty crazy how the two of you got together so fast,” Tina says, breaking the silence. There are only a couple pieces of bruschetta left on the plate. One is in my hand, on its way to my mouth when she makes the odd comment.
I stop the bruschetta just before it reaches my mouth. “What do you mean? We’ve known each other for a year.”
She shrugs. “I can’t remember the last time the two of you had a conversation without trying to rip each other’s throats out,” she reminds me.
Oliver and I exchange a glance. I’m starting to panic. I feel like she’s on to us. It’s got to be how weird Oliver acted when I called him “babe.” We probably aren’t any good at faking this. We’re too obvious. I try to think of how I’m going to dig my way out of this if she calls us out on our lie right now. I can’t explain our reasoning for lying without giving away both of their surprises. I pop the bruschetta into my mouth so that I won’t have to be the one who answers.
“Maybe it wasn’t her throat I wanted to rip out,” Oliver says. “Maybe all this time, what I really wanted to do was rip her clothes off.”
I almost choke. My face burns.
Tina laughs, then kicks me under the table. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret from me,” she says. “All this time, you swore you hated him.”
Oliver frowns. “You hate me?”
“Hated.” I emphasize the last syllable, though I’m not sure that makes it any better. He raises an eyebrow.
