Chapter 13
tino
Saturday had always been my favorite day of the week, but especially so at Hartwell. It always felt like the campus had been hit by a huge mute button—no alarms blaring, no coaches yelling, and most students not out of bed until afternoon.
Unfortunately, today I was rolling out of bed just before ten a.m., but the reason was well worth it.
Bear was still passed out when I rolled out of bed—the blanket half over his face, one arm hanging off the mattress, mumbling Poppy’s name in his sleep.
I grinned to myself and tugged on the first hoodie I could find—our hockey team one from last year with everyone’s names signed on the back—and slipped on my shoes as I glanced out the window.
It still hadn’t snowed yet, but it was clearly freezing.
A few students trudged toward the dining hall, hoods up and breath fogging in the cold air.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and headed out that way too, trying to act as if this was how I normally spent my Saturday morning.
Sure, I could say it was because I was hungry, and if anyone asked, that was the exact reason I would give.
But the truth of the matter was that I had enough food stashed in the room to last me the whole weekend, and I hadn’t been down to breakfast on a Saturday in all my time at Hartwell except for family day.
Apparently there were only two things that could drag me from bed this early: my parents coming to visit and my fake girlfriend.
The fake relationship thing had only been official for, what, forty-eight hours?
And already I couldn’t stop checking my phone, half-expecting her to text about another idea she had for selling the relationship.
Last night, she’d forwarded me a photo somebody had snapped of us walking up the dorms with my arm around her and said it was a good move on my part, even though it felt like a headlock for her.
She also grudgingly admitted that kissing her in the theater was a good idea, which I was happily taking as permission to keep kissing whenever I could.
As I expected, the cafeteria was only a quarter-full and not nearly as loud as it was during the week.
I was immediately drawn in by the smell of waffles but I scanned the room as I walked in, sure that she must be here already.
The beauty of my roommate dating Lilah’s roommate was that she was happy to pass on all the intel about Lilah that she could—including that she was always downstairs for breakfast before ten a.m. on the weekends and stayed there for a while unless they had plans for the day.
My eyes locked on her sitting by the windows, but for a second, I almost didn’t recognize her.
I was so used to seeing Lilah either in her school uniform or dressed up to go into town, but this morning she couldn’t look any different.
She was sitting cross-legged at a corner table, hoodie pulled over her head, glasses slipping down her nose, and a cup of coffee clasped in both hands like she was drawing warmth straight from it.
Her hair was a little messy, and there was a crease from her pillow still pressed into her cheek.
And somehow, she’d never looked better.
I stopped long enough to get two mugs of coffee (adding a sickeningly large amount of sugar to the one) and a plate with as many waffles as I could pile on before crossing the room to join her.
I slid into the seat across from her, pushing one of the mugs in her direction, happy to see that I’d guessed correctly about hers being almost empty.
“Morning,” I said. “I wasn’t sure exactly how you took your coffee so I just dumped the whole sugar bowl in. Hope it’s okay.”
She narrowed her eyes at me but released her grip on the first mug so she could pull the new one closer to her.
I watched her carefully as she took a long gulp, half-expecting her to spit it out and accuse me of trying to poison her, but her lips curled up in what could almost be considered a smile.
In fact, I was pretty sure it would have been a full smile if it had been anyone else to offer her the drink.
“Why are you awake?” she asked, her voice more tired than accusing despite the words.
“It’s 9:50 a.m..”
“Exactly. Normal people are still asleep.”
“I’m not normal.”
She gave me a look over the rim of her mug. “You’re telling me.”
I grinned and nudged the plate toward her, choosing not to point out that she was also up at this ridiculous hour. “I brought you waffles.”
She eyed them suspiciously. “Are they poisoned?”
“I hope not,” I said. I half-stood and looked over at the waffle bar curiously. “I don’t see any arsenic on the counter but I suppose you can never be too careful.”
When I sat back down, she was pouring syrup on the waffles in the same way I imagined she put sugar in her coffee—by tipping the bottle over and drowning the food.
“Are you trying to make up for stealing my popcorn last night?” Lilah asked as she picked up her fork.
“Well, I gave it a lot of thought,” I told her as I grabbed my own fork too. “And I decided feeding you is probably the responsibility of a boyfriend.”
She snorted but took a bite, then sighed like it was the first good thing that’d happened all morning. “You’re lucky these are decent, otherwise I’d be calling the whole thing off.”
“Harsh.”
“Honest.”
I took a bite of the waffles as well and managed not to gag over the obscene amount of syrup, although I must not have been very subtle about it because Lilah was watching me with a smile on her face.
I still went for more, aiming for the waffles on the bottom that had the least amount of syrup on them, half-surprised that Lilah didn’t dump more on them just to annoy me.
She kept her head down as she ate, which conveniently gave me time to stare at her without her noticing.
The late morning light caught on her hair, making the blonde shine like gold and she kept nudging her glasses absentmindedly up her nose, something I found fascinating since I’d never seen her wear them before.
She glanced up with a soft smile on her face, seemingly forgetting that I was there.
“Why are you staring?” she asked suddenly, eyes narrowing.
I coughed. “I’m not staring.”
A blatant lie that was easily disproven by the fact that she was sitting right across from me and would easily be able to tell.
“You are.”
“I’m… observing.”
“Me?”
“Well, there’s not much else to observe. Except maybe that groundhog in the hedge over there—I guess I could stare at him.”
“You mean Troy?” Lilah asked. She glanced over her shoulder out the window and smiled as she saw the groundhog.
“You named him?”
“Mh-hmm.” She turned back to her waffles and continued eating like naming the groundhog that lived outside the cafeteria was a completely normal thing that everyone did.
“You named the groundhog Troy.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine. “After High School Musical.”
“Naturally.”
She huffed and put her fork down, then rested her arms on the table. “He doesn’t only spend time here, we see him by the gym a lot too. We saw him there for the first time after a basketball game so he’s obviously into basketball so I named him Troy.”
“Why not Air Bud?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well, he’s not a dog.”
“He’s not a human either!”
“You are completely ignoring his musical talent.”
I stared at her in bewilderment. “What musical talent?”
“He likes to sing. He’s very good at it too.”
I just stared at her, not sure if she was being genuine or if she was pulling my leg. I didn’t want to make fun of the idea of the groundhog singing if she genuinely thought he did, but I was also about ninety percent sure that groundhogs didn’t make any sound even remotely similar to singing.
I guess I would never find out the truth because before I could think of a polite way to ask, I noticed some sophomores by the cereal station that were not-so-subtly staring our way.
I could see the exact moment that Lilah noticed it too, the way her spine became ramrod straight and she started fidgeting with her mug nervously.
When I first suggested this plan, I was sure that Lilah would be all-in for it.
Not that she had any interest in being an actress, but she loved chaos and I figured she would find it hilarious to see how easy it was to trick the whole student population into thinking we were dating.
But this week, she’d consistently surprised me with how much she didn’t enjoy the attention of other students.
So I did the only thing that I thought could distract her: I flirted.
I leaned across the table and rested my hand lightly over hers. “Relax,” I murmured.
Her eyes flicked to me and she stayed tense for a moment before exhaling slowly. Then, after a second, she relaxed fully, letting her fingers stay under mine. “You really commit to a bit, don’t you?”
“It’s method acting.”
“Dangerous habit.”
“Only if the role feels too real,” I said before I could stop myself.
She went still for half a second then rolled her eyes, but I caught the faintest hint of pink at the tops of her cheeks. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Big word for someone who hasn’t finished her coffee.”
“Big ego for someone who’s about to lose his waffle privileges.”
“I’m not sure these even qualify as waffles anymore. They’re just solidified syrup in the shape of a waffle.”
“Fine.” She pulled her hand out of mine then yanked the plate toward her so I couldn’t reach them anymore. “Don’t have any more.”
She went back to eating, pretending not to smile, and I sat there pretending not to notice how hard my heart was pounding.
When was the last time I had a meal alone with Lilah?
Had it ever happened? If I’d known all it would take was a fake relationship, maybe I would have found a way to suggest this earlier.
Then again, maybe this whole fake dating thing was a terrible idea.