Foolish Games: A Brothers Best Friend Fake Dating Romance

thirty-one

In the News: The Denver Broncos defeat the Green Bay Packers (31-24) in Superbowl XXXII.

Vivienne Delacroix

“Krissy, please take off your hat,” Mrs. Wheeler says, glancing down at her clipboard and marking attendance.

“I can’t,” Krissy says, her face going a shade of maroon that satisfies me in my petty little heart.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to have a ballcap on during the event,” Mrs. Wheeler says. “And I’m not going to get our team disqualified because they think we’re cheating. I told you, this event is being televised on the local news. We don’t want to draw any negative attention.”

“I would never cheat,” Krissy huffs.

Mrs. Wheeler sighs and lowers her clipboard. “What’s going on, Krissy? You know the dress code doesn’t allow hats. This is a school sanctioned event.”

I look down at my neatly tucked Wampus Cats Quiz Bowl t-shirt to hide my smile. Yes, I’ve just become the villain of the day, but the bitch had it coming.

It’s not about Chaz anymore. She can have him.

But this is the culmination of something that started the day she recorded the exchange between my brother and Sebastian. Okay, maybe it started before that. When I was with Chaz, she was just his annoying friend with a crush. I don’t think she stole my boyfriend or anything like that. But the moment she got him, she became a complete bitch, and I’ve put up with it long enough.

Every day at school has been a nightmare since she aired the announcements. Guys ask me how much Sebastian got for the bet, and if I’d give it up for free or if they’d have to pay me. I’ve seen others openly betting when I walk past, probably just to mess with me, but it still stings. I can’t go back to eating in the cafeteria, where the entire school will stare at me. Where would I sit, anyway? Even the girls who call themselves the Slut Club probably wouldn’t take me, thanks to my betraying Lexi, their leader.

So, I hold my head high and walk into the quiz bowl practice I set up in Mrs. Wheeler’s room every day. My arrival is always met with snickering and whispers, but I know the only alternative is eating alone in my car, and that’s just too damn pathetic.

“It’s—it’s for medical reasons,” Krissy stammers.

“Oh,” Mrs. Wheeler says, her brows rising. “Well, then. I… I guess that’s okay?”

She starts rifling through the rule book, trying to find the dress code. Before she can, we’re called to the stage. We hurry on, taking our seats along one side of the kidney table. There are only a handful of people in the auditorium, since Quiz Bowl doesn’t exactly pack the stands. But I spot the camera crew from a tiny local station, so I put on my game face. I may have lost my reputation at school, but I would never embarrass my parents on the news—even a station that no one watches.

“Faulkner High, microphone four, please remove your hat,” drones the moderator, a skeletal guy who speaks in a nasally monotone.

“I can’t,” Krissy says, her voice ringing out. “I have a medical condition.”

Mrs. Wheeler hurries over to our table.

“Can you wear a scarf instead? So they don’t think you have answers written under the bill.”

“I don’t have one,” Krissy mumbles, staring at the table.

I think she might cry, and I push away the dart of sympathy I feel. She deserves this.

“I have one,” I say, smiling sweetly and reaching for my purse. I pull out a silk handkerchief and pass it down.

“Do we have a problem?” the moderator asks, not even sounding remotely curious.

“No problem,” I call. “She’s just switching it out now.”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” Krissy hisses.

“For heaven’s sake, just put it on,” Mrs. Wheeler says. She’d probably have more sympathy if she couldn’t see that Krissy still has her long, mousy brown hair hanging down her back. It’s not like she’s bald.

At least, not completely.

Tears pool in Krissy’s eyes as she yanks off the ballcap, snatching the bandana up and ducking her head as she reaches back to tie it. But she wasn’t quite fast enough to keep from revealing what she’s been trying to hide all morning. Her big, white, shiny bald head. Well, not totally bald. The hair all around the sides of her head is still long, making her look a bit like my grandpa with a ruff of hair all around the edges of his bald dome—except this one is dull brown and reaches halfway down her back.

She really would have looked better if she’d finished the job I started after she drank too many wine coolers in her hotel room last night. No one except Sasha, who was sharing her room, knows that I was the last to leave. Sasha got in the shower, and I got to work. She must know I’m the one who performed this little act of revenge for the humiliation Krissy’s caused me. I know she won’t rat me out, though. We both know that Krissy crossed a line when she aired that video.

Not only that, but on the bus ride to the hotel yesterday, Krissy stood up in front of the whole team and asked Mrs. Wheeler if I should sit this one out. After all, she argued, did Faulkner High really want a girl like me representing them on TV?

That was the last straw. Before that, I’d been determined to stew in my anger until it went away. To take the high road, like a perfect Delacroix daughter.

But sometimes, it feels so damn good to take the low road.

Sebastian taught me that. He taught me to be brave and daring and sometimes crazy, and to take risks, because even when you play it safe, you can still end up trying to scrape your dignity off the floor by fake dating someone because the nice guy didn’t turn out to be so nice after all.

Since I’ve become the school slut thanks to Krissy’s decision to air that video, I’m no longer a poster child for the Delacroix family. That’s okay. Blaise can have that honor all to herself. Now I’m really disgraced, though, thanks to Krissy. What’s a little prank on top of that?

I wish I could say I regret it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little better knowing her bald head is going to be televised. And it doesn’t hurt that Chaz literally chokes on his tongue at the sight of his girlfriend’s new male pattern baldness hairstyle. Jerome gapes in wordless shock. Sasha gives me look, and I see a gleam of pride in her eyes.

I smile serenely at my parents in the audience, like I didn’t even see it. Dad holds both hands in front of him to give me two thumbs up. Despite my agreement with Robert that he doesn’t have to attend these things, he’s sitting right there with them. He knows when I need the morale boost.

The moderator is going over the rules now, so I put aside my personal dramas and focus on the round ahead. But just as we’re about to begin, the doors to the auditorium burst open, and a flood of about a dozen people swarm in, half of them holding hand-drawn signs on poster boards tucked under their arms. I spot Lexi and Billy immediately, and my heart surges in my chest.

I can’t help but think of Sebastian, even though I know he’s not going to be with them. Even when things were good between us, I told him no one comes to these. He came to my violin recital a month ago, and that was all I expected of him.

Which makes me suspicious about why these people are here. I’m frozen in terror that they’re going to hold up signs calling me a slut or something. They’re not exactly fond of me right now either. They all take their seats, and my heart sinks further.

No Sebastian.

But just as the doors are about to close, one last figure steps into the opening. My throat closes.

It’s him.

He’s holding up a sign over his head that reads, “Forgive Me.”

I start laughing, tears blurring my eyes.

But the competition starts before I can think of what to do.

Sebastian sits, grinning his fool head off. The first time I get a question right, the whole crowd of them cheers and claps, jumping up and down like we’re at a football game and I just scored a touchdown.

Sebastian turns his sign over and holds it up, whooping as he waves it around. It reads, “I Like Big Brains (and I cannot lie).”

I try to focus and not laugh out loud every time they hold up signs. The moderator scolds them a few times, but about halfway through, my brother starts cheering with them, pumping his fist in the air whenever I buzz in to answer. By the time it’s over, even my parents are getting a little rowdy—at least by Quiz Bowl standards.

It’s hard as hell to concentrate, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finally, we enter the final round, tied with Ridgedale’s team. I groan inwardly when they announce the topic is pop culture and we watch our lead slip away. At last, we’re tied up when we reach the final question. Even Sebastian’s section has gone silent. I spot Billy sitting on the edge of his seat, nearly vibrating with excitement, and Lexi beside him, her eyes shining as she waits for the final question. Sebastian’s hands are clasped under his chin as he stares at us like he can will our win.

“For the round,” the announcer drawls. “What band replaced lead vocalist David Lee Roth with Sammy Hagar in 1985?”

I hit the buzzer so fast it just about shoots off the table. “Van Halen,” I blurt, silently thanking Sebastian and his grandpa music.

“Correct,” the moderator says. I can barely hear him over Sebastian’s whoop of triumph.

The whole row of his friends in the back start dancing and shaking their signs that say everything from Lexi’s simple one reading “Go Vivienne” with stars drawn in marker around the edge, to Billy’s illogical one that reads, “Shake what ur mama gave U” and has a badly rendered drawing of a brain on it.

Before it can sink in that we won, Sebastian comes bounding down the aisle like an overeager puppy and jumps onto the stage. For one moment, I think he’s going to grab me, but instead, he plucks the mic from the moderator, who looks as confused as the rest of us.

“Vivienne Delacroix, I fucking love you,” Sebastian says, turning to me. “I’m sorry I lied, and yes, that makes me an asshole, but if you’ve never loved something enough to lie to keep it, you’ve never seen your true worth. But I see it. I see you, Viv. I see every nerdy, stubborn, obsessed with your reputation, people-pleasing, perfectionistic part of you, and I think it’s fucking perfect already. You’re perfect. You’re worth everything. And I’d lie all over again if that meant I could keep you for one more day.”

The whole room is frozen in shock. Chaz looks like he’s going to have a heart attack on Sebastian’s behalf because he can’t imagine making a fool of himself for anyone, no matter how much he loves them. But he’s never had the kind of love worth making a fool of yourself for. I feel my eyes welling with tears, and I can’t even begin to say all the things I want to say to Sebastian. That loving him is scary, but that it’s a million times better than loving someone safe. That he makes me bolder, and wilder, and more myself, no matter what anyone thinks. I needed that, even when I didn’t know it, even when it was uncomfortable. He made me grow and see things differently and change into a better version of me.

Before I can say any of that, the moderator holds out a hand and demands the microphone back, spluttering that Sebastian can’t be there.

“Think about it,” Sebastian says into the mic. “We belong together, Viv. I know it, you know it, and now the whole world knows it.” He waves to the TV camera, then hops off the stage and goes back to his friends while we get our trophy.

I’m dying to talk to Bash, and I keep checking to make sure he hasn’t left without my answer. What if I don’t get a chance to tell him I feel the same?

When we finally leave the stage, my parents pull me into a group hug with Robert. “That had to be the most exciting Quiz Bowl I’ve been to,” Dad says.

“Can I have a minute?” I ask.

Robert glances up the aisle to where Sebastian is standing with his sign held in front of him like a sandwich board. “Go on,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“You’re okay with this?” I ask.

“Nah, but I’ll learn to live with it. Or kick his ass again.”

“Just make sure he gives you tips on how to do it before you try.”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” he says, grinning.

I start up the aisle of the auditorium, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Sebastian is standing there with a giddy grin on his face like he knows exactly how damn charming he is, and how damn hard it is to stay mad at him.

I’ve only taken a few steps when a voice stops me. “Hey, Viv,” Chaz calls, doing a dorky little half-run to catch up with me. Suddenly all I can think about is how much I wanted him to chase me months ago, the night of the Founders Ball. I wince when I remember that version of myself, how badly I wanted him to fight for me, and how very little of that he did. Neither of us wanted to draw attention. Since then I’ve learned that I enjoy the spotlight—when the time is right.

Maybe Chaz has learned a thing or two as well, but I don’t feel triumph or elation that he’s finally chasing after me. All I feel is annoyance that he interrupted my path to Sebastian.

“Vivienne,” Chaz says again, taking out his inhaler and taking a puff, like that little run-walk winded him. Poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him. “Hey.”

“Hey, Chaz,” I say, not daring to look at Sebastian. I don’t want to see the smile gone from his face.

“You did great today,” Chaz says. “You got that last question so fast.”

“Thanks.”

We stand there awkwardly for a moment, and then I tip my head in Sebastian’s direction, a giddy smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” Chaz says, seizing my hand. “Viv… I know I messed up, but I swear to you, I never cheated.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. I don’t care. Really. I’m over it.”

“I care,” he says, glancing around and licking his lips nervously. He lowers his voice and squeezes my hand. “I want you to know I’m a nice guy. I… I still care about you, Viv.”

A laugh starts to bubble up inside me, but I hold it back. “Am I supposed to melt for your lukewarm sentiment?” I ask, extracting my hand. “Sorry, Chaz, but I’m not the girl I was when we dated. Not to mention you already have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but… Well, we’ve been having problems, and now…”

“Now that she’s bald, you want me back?” I ask, smirking over at her, where she’s trapped talking to her parents. From the way she’s glaring daggers, she must at least suspect what her little worm of a boyfriend is doing right now.

“I do want you back,” Chaz says, reaching for my hand again.

I pull it out of his reach. “You know what, Chaz? I don’t think you are a nice guy. I’m not going to do to Krissy what she did to me, even if she deserves it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

His bushy, orange brows draw together as he sees my gaze flicker impatiently in Sebastian’s direction. “You can’t be serious,” he says. “You’re taking back that clown, after he got on stage and humiliated you in front of everyone? On TV?”

“No, he didn’t humiliate me,” I say. “You humiliated me when you hooked up with the girl you told me was like your sister the entire time we were dating—the day after we broke up. Sebastian puts himself out there. He’s not over here whispering he cares about me so he can save face and then crawl back to his girlfriend if I don’t feel the same. He got on stage and told the world he fucking loves me.”

“I’ve said I loved you dozens of times.”

I just laugh and shake my head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have,” he insists. “Why are you slumming it with a scumbag who played you for a bet when you could be with a good guy who genuinely cares about you?”

“Fine,” I say with a shrug. “You’re a nice guy who treated me like a princess. But I’ve learned that I prefer a bad boy who treats me like a queen.”

I turn and walk away, my footsteps light and my head held high.

I don’t even know what I’m going to say until I’m standing in front of Sebastian Swift, my bully and tormentor, my fake boyfriend, my first real love.

“What was that about?” he asks, scowling over my shoulder at Chaz. Though he looks pissed, there’s an edge of real hurt in his voice.

“That was me telling Chaz to shove his nice guy act up his hairy orange ass.”

“Really?” Sebastian asks, a little grin turning up the corners of his mouth and making me want to give in to the giddiness buoying me up until I think I’ll float away.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, holding myself back.

He gestures with the sign asking forgiveness. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asks. “Maybe I need to change the other side to say, ‘I like small brains.’”

“Shut up,” I say, tears aching behind my eyes.

“Not until you say yes.”

“Yes,” I say, laughing and wiping at my eye. “I forgive you.”

He drops the sign and pulls me in, kissing me hard on the mouth. Then he draws back, narrowing his eyes at me. “Did I embarrass you?”

“A little,” I admit, tightening my arms around him. “But I didn’t mind.”

“Good,” he says. “Because I’m going to keep doing it as long as I’m around.”

“Oh lord,” I say, laughing. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all that.”

“Well, you’ll have to get used to it, because it’s happening,” he says.

I snuggle into his hard, familiar body. “I can’t believe you came.”

“I can’t take credit,” he says. “It was all their idea.” He hooks at thumb toward his friends, who stand there grinning like they’re the ones who just fell in love all over again.

“Eh, even though you played us like your violin, I guess you can still be our friend as long as Bash is banging you,” Lexi says.

“I’m sorry,” I say, sniffling a little. “I never meant to make a fool of anyone. I was just trying to save face. I didn’t realize I was making you lose it. But I wasn’t faking anything when we hung out. I… I really like you.”

“Okay, don’t start buggin’,” Lexi says, rolling her eyes. “Bash made us do the signs. We just gave him a ride.”

Someone clears her throat behind me. I turn to see Mom standing behind me, her brows lifted nearly to her hairline. “I haven’t seen you around in a while, Sebastian,” she says. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Hey, I’m totally into trivia,” he says, keeping one arm around me. “Plus, I gotta show up to support Viv now that I’m her boyfriend.”

“Is that so?” Mom asks, shooting me a look as she shakes his hand. I can’t tell if she’s upset—even I can’t read her in public.

“Her boyfriend?” Dad asks, stepping in next to Mom.

Suddenly, I realize Mom must know this is why I wanted to get on birth control, and I bury my face in Sebastian’s shirt so I don’t have to see her judgment.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says. “I mean, yes, sir. Right?”

He looks down at me, where I’m still clinging with both arms wrapped around him, like I might lose him again if I let go.

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “My real boyfriend.”

Rob, who’s standing behind my parents, rolls his eyes heavenward.

“We were just going to take Vivienne out for pizza,” Dad says. “Why don’t you join us?”

I glare at Dad in horror.

“I’d love to,” Sebastian says without missing a beat. He gives Dad the boyish smile he uses on adults, looking all bashful with his candy-apple green eyes wide and innocent.

“And we’d love to have you,” Mom says, beaming at Sebastian with all the toothiness of a shark getting ready to rip its prey to shreds.

“We’ll warm up the car,” Dad says. “You kids don’t take too long.”

They comment to Sebastian’s crew as they walk by, giving them a wave and heading outside. Robert glares at Sebastian, but he follows my parents, giving us some room.

I turn to Sebastian. “They’re going to annihilate you. You’re not just Rob’s friend now. Dad will totally break out the shotgun if you make me cry.”

He laughs and brushes away the remnants of the one tear that escaped my lashes. Then he cups my face in his hand, bringing my attention back to him. “I won’t make you cry again, Viv. I want you to know, I really meant it. This… It was never fake. Not to me. Every kiss, every word, everything between us was real.”

“Me, too,” I admit, nestling my cheek into his palm. “It was always real.”

The End.