Fan-freaking-tastic. It was like living my worst nightmare, actually.I sigh, and Ronnie quirks one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as if she really can read my thoughts. “So…good,” I manage, attempting to force a grin and instead sneering at the rancid taste of my lie. “We’re…going to date now.”
The cousins exchange a knowing look, but before they can comment, Eli, none the wiser to the reality of the situation (and clearly oblivious to my appalling attempt at improvisation), perks up and says, “Wait, you have a boyfriend now? That’s great! Hey, we can double date.” He nudges Andie, crackinga smile, and for a moment, I think that’s the end of it—that I can just delay this conversation, and tell my girls the truth later when we’re in a more secure, secluded location without any unexpected spectators—when Eli asks the dreaded question. “Who is he? Anyone we know?”
I swallow again, prepared to say no, but I can’t; the words refuse to come. At my silence, Ronnie’s expression contorts into a questioning glare, and though I meet her gaze, I still don’t say anything since I have no clue what the fucktosay. I don’t know what Damian’s expected timeline is with this farce, and considering I haven’t had a boyfriend in all the time my Conwick friends have known me, it’ll look kind of sketchy if I make one up now only to turn around a week or however long later and suddenly say I’m dating someone else. Especially when that someone else is Damian since it’s unavoidable that we’ll be seen together. Hell, that’s the whole point of all this.
No, the only way to really make this believable (and to keep the lie straight in case Eli runs his mouth) is to be honest from the get-go. Well, honest adjacent.
My mouth, on the other hand, has other ideas, and when I open it, I inadvertently expel a very shrill, very unhinged sound that somewhat resembles a laugh. The anxiety which had me running from Damian is now tangible walls closing in on me, threatening to squish me into jelly, with each one representing a different shit thing I’m currently having to deal with. They don’t crush me in the end, stopping just short of my death, like I’m Indiana Jones narrowly escaping a cursed tomb. But the claustrophobia that lingers is a hand around my throat, and it chokes me until that laugh is little more than a creepy, monotone chuckle, earning me some very concerned looks from my friends.
I quickly down the rest of my drink to shut myself up since rational thought and behavior seem so determined to elude me.
“You okay there, Lex?” Andie asks.
“Yes, I am…” I force out, fidgeting with my glasses, “and yes, you do.”
Andie tracks the movement of my fingers with knowing eyes as Ronnie squeaks, “Wait, what? Weknowhim?”
“I hope you didn’t have this reaction when we started dating,” Eli mumbles with a skeptical side-eye at Andie.
I lift my glass, signaling to the bartender for another drink. Thank god for table service.
“Lexi,” Ronnie prods, but her voice gets tangled up in the buzz of chatter that enters my ears as Andie and Eli spout conjecture as to who my new “boyfriend” may be. So many questions are being hurled in my direction, and all this noise is making my brain hurt.
Suddenly, my phone vibrates on the wooden table, and the screen lights up, blindingly bright in the dim lighting of our booth. Thankful for the distraction, I pull it toward me only to glimpse a text alert with Ronnie’s name and the following words:
Ronnie
What the fuck? Spill bitch
“Hey, no side conversations,” Andie whines, smacking her cousin in the arm.
“We’re not,” Ronnie retorts, leaning in closer to me when Andie attempts to pluck her phone from her fingers. “I’m merely trying to get to the bottom of this little mystery since Lexi is being so incredibly forthcoming about it.”
I roll my eyes as Ronnie thrusts her arms under the table, out of reach of her cousin. While I can’t see her hands, Icanhear the manic tapping of her thumbs, and a moment later?—
My phone buzzes again.
Ronnie
Who is it????
I sigh, begrudgingly amazed at Ronnie’s ability to type coherently without even glancing at her screen.
“No secrets!” Andie admonishes me, though I’m not entirely sure whyI’mthe one being yelled at seeing as I’ve said and done absolutely nothing for the last twenty seconds. “If you tell her, you have to tell me!”
“Why is it a secret?” Eli asks, looking almost as dumbfounded as he did when he first walked into the bar.
In tandem, the three all look at me, wearing identical, questioning, probing expressions, and…I can’t do it. I can’t hold it in any longer. They’re all staring at me with beady eyes, and sweat is dripping down my back, and I’ve only just remembered that I am aterribleliar. This whole thing is a horrible,horribleidea. As horrible as the ugly truth, which expels from my lips now like vomit.
“It’s Damian,” I confess.
Silence engulfs the table. Actually, I’m fairly sure it swallows the entire bar, as if everyone in the general vicinity was hanging onto my every breath, waiting for the reveal, like I’m living the world’s most cliché soap opera.
Ronnie looks dazed. Andie looks like her two favorite fandoms have just gone to war. Eli’s brows are knitting together, like he’s attempting some complex mental math.
“As in…Damian Navarro?” he asks when that quiet stretches a moment too long. “Wait, didn’t you—” He goes silent when I glower at him, my eyes sharpening like knife points, offering a wordless warning not to finish the rest of that sentence. I may have even bared my teeth. “Never mind,” he says quickly.
I exhale, not bothering to hide my relief. The last thing I need right now is to play twenty questions when I don’t even have a convincing lie in place to explain why on earth I would willingly date a guy who only fucked me for the sake of a bet.
