Chapter 5
AIDAN
This will never work. I thought I’d left this kind of rash decision aside when I gave up clubbing.
In the last two years, I’ve managed to avoid waking up with a hangover…
until today. Even though I only had one drink last night, I’ve spent the whole day feeling like I got run over by a freight train. Twice.
Specifically, one named Covey. As kids, he talked me into the craziest shit. That hasn’t changed. Even if this time it was my idea, it was his sad blue eyes and pouty lips that made me do it.
“Ready?” Covey asks when he meets me on the front stoop of his parents’ house.
I’d have preferred driving together, taking those few minutes to make sure we had our story straight, but our work days didn’t align, and neither of us had time to make it work.
Instead, we agreed that this was the easiest option, taking separate cars and meeting here.
“As close as I’m going to get.” I’ve already spent eight hours fretting; there’s nothing a few more minutes will get me. A few students took advantage of my distraction and colored their desks for several minutes before I caught on.
“Don’t worry. Tonight’ll be quick and easy.”
Covey’s confidence is infectious. By the time he opens the door, I’m almost able to convince myself that this is a good idea.
That self-assuredness fades the moment we walk through the front door, and the aroma of apples and cinnamon assaults me.
“You’re here,” Edith calls out, extending her arms to the two of us. She hugs Covey, pulling him in close and holding onto him for several seconds. My arms suddenly feel completely alien, and I shove my hands in my pockets, hoping it will keep me from doing something stupid.
“Aidan, come here.” I don’t move fast enough, and she pulls me into her arms quickly, enveloping me.
My hands are still stuck in my pants, so I stand awkwardly, unable to hug her back.
“I’m so happy you’re here.” She steps back, keeping her hands on my shoulders, the space between us only slightly more than a minute ago.
“And with our Covey.” She tilts her head to the side and gives me a look of adoration I’ve only seen in movies.
“We always thought the two of you would get together at some point, although that was before Cove went away to school.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth, like she’s still not sure about that decision.
“It took you longer than we all expected, but you got there.”
“We?” I croak out.
“Oh yes. Your mom and I used to sit around talking about it over wine.”
My mom. In all the planning we did—a whole five minutes of discussion and nine text messages—I never once considered my family.
Or the shared history between our families.
Although my dad no longer lives here, my mom does.
It was naive to think Covey’s mom wouldn’t be ready to get the whole gang back together.
Lying to Covey’s family is one thing. Lying to mine?
Is it hot in here?
“You okay?” Covey asks, whispering in my ear. “You look a bit pale.”
“Fine.” I bite back the emotions swirling through my head. How could I forget about something like that? As always, it’s Covey’s influence. When I’m in his orbit, nothing else matters.
“Why don’t you go in the kitchen and ask Covey to fix you something? A little drink might perk you right up,” Edith offers.
That sounds like a good way to wind up naked on the front lawn.
I’m familiar with her drinks, and they tend to be strong and plentiful, which isn't a good combination for calling my mom later. After I figure out exactly what I’m going to tell her.
I can’t tell her the truth—that this is all a lie—because she’ll sell us out.
But I can’t imagine lying either. Especially knowing there’s a date in the future when I’ll have to tell her we broke up.
“Come on.” Covey takes my hand, leading me out of the living room and into the kitchen. Maybe a bit of alcohol will do something for the dread currently swirling in my stomach.
COVEY
Maddox was full of shit. Pretending to date Aidan is easy.
It’s a genius idea. There’s not that much difference between a friend and a boyfriend.
We’ll make it through a few quick holiday dinners, then we can amicably split after the first of the year—no hard feelings, of course—before we return to our regularly scheduled lives.
We’ll stay best friends, obviously. It’s nice to have one person in my life who isn’t in the ballet company.
I love my fellow dancers with all my heart, but they can be overwhelming.
When you spend your days eating, sleeping, working, and playing with the same people, things can start to feel a bit weird.
Plus, even when I find a great friend, I never know when they might move to a different company.
At this point, half of my friends are in Europe.
A few of my childhood friends are still in Vermont, but most have moved away.
The ones who are here, I’m slowly reconnecting with while slowly making new ones.
Having Aidan back in my life is the perfect happy accident.
“Covey.” Shit. Aidan does not look happy. His harsh whisper reverberates through the kitchen, and I pause, mug in hand.
“Want some cider? I can add rum to yours.” I ladle a mug full out of the crockpot.
Making apple cider this way may seem ridiculous, but it’s delicious.
My mom makes it from fresh apples, then adds a whole bunch of spices that spend all day infusing.
It’s even better with a bit of rum. It’s probably for the best that I’m not drinking tonight.
Someone needs to keep our story straight.
“What about my mom?”
“Is she here? I can get her some cider, too.” I look around, but we’re the only ones in here.
“No, but she’s going to find out.” Aidan’s gone noticeably pale in the last few minutes. Maybe he doesn’t need any rum. Or perhaps he needs extra.
“Okay…” I say slowly.
“Covey—” He says my name in that same exasperated voice he always did as kids. The one that says I’m not paying enough attention. “She’s going to find out about us. That we’re”—he looks around the room, then whispers—“dating.” He uses air quotes as he says the last bit.
Oh. Oh. “And that’s a problem?” I say it as a question, because honestly, I’m not clear on where things are going right now. I feel like I walked into this discussion at the halfway point, and I’m not sure how to catch up. Is there a synopsis somewhere? Perhaps CliffsNotes?
“Not a problem.” He stops and considers. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s confused. “I… I hadn’t considered it. I thought it would only be your family we were lying to.”
Okay, now I’m catching up. “You don’t want your family to know?
” It’s mostly his mom around here. Aidan’s parents split up when we were teenagers, though his dad was rarely around even before that.
He worked as a long-haul trucker for years, spending weekdays on the road and weekends at home.
After the split, he stuck around Burlington until Aidan graduated from high school, then moved out to Chicago.
As far as I know, he doesn’t visit often.
That could’ve changed. I guess that’s another thing I should ask about.
A good boyfriend would know that kind of information.
Scratch that. A good friend should know that kind of thing, regardless of a romantic relationship.
“I’m pretty honest with her about my life.
Not intimate details, but I don’t hide anything.
” I can practically hear the anymore at the end of that sentence.
Aidan came out as bisexual to his parents when we were in eighth grade.
He told me a year earlier—after I told him I was gay—but was scared to tell his parents.
I thought they’d be fine, but he worried himself sick over it. Literally.
“I think it’ll be hard to keep our moms from talking.
” I bite my lip to try to come up with a good solution.
“Maybe we could pull your mom aside and tell her it’s fake?
” I doubt that’ll work. I know Aidan’s mom well enough to know she’ll frown on lying.
But the way Aidan looks right now, like he’s about to pass out on our kitchen tile, I can’t let that happen.
This whole scheme is to create fewer problems, not more.
“No, she’ll rat you out.”
“You don’t need to do this if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.
” Is it too late to put an ad in the newspaper?
Wanted: one fake boyfriend for the holidays.
Must be willing to accommodate a demanding dance schedule.
Now that I’ve been in a fake relationship with Aidan, it’s hard to imagine being in one with someone else.
Is that weird? Yeah, that’s probably weird.
“I’ll be fine. It’ll suck for a little while, but everyone will eventually get over it. ”
What I can’t get over is hurting Aidan. That would be too far. Ultimately, I hope that we’ll be best friends again when this is over. That only happens if the amicable breakup is, well, amicable.
“No.” He shakes his head so hard I’m afraid he’ll get dizzy. “I volunteered and I’m standing by that commitment.”
“Aidan—” He puts his hand over my mouth to cut me off.
“I panicked for a minute, but it’s not a big deal.” His hand’s still over my mouth, so I do the mature thing and lick it. “Covey!” He snatches his hand away and looks at it, like I might’ve left some slime behind, then wipes it on my shirt. “You’re like one of my kindergarteners.”
Kindergarten—he’s a kindergarten teacher. I’m about to ask him some other questions on my get-to-know-Aidan list when my mom walks in, hand on her hips, shaking her head.
“What’s going on here?” She looks between the two of us, and I have flashbacks to the hundreds of times across our childhood that she asked the same question. Aidan and I look at each other, then at my mom.
“I licked him.” I shrug as the words tumble out of my mouth.
My mom’s eyes go wide and dart between the two of us. “Well… dinner.” She turns and walks out of the kitchen so fast I swear there’s a trail of smoke behind her.
“Covey. Seriously. You know what that sounds like, right?”
Um… oh. “Shit. Well, maybe that will help sell our story.”
“I don’t want your family thinking that you’re giving me blow jobs in the kitchen.”
“Hi, Dad,” I say as my father walks in, stops, turns, and leaves.
If this was a cartoon, steam would be coming out of Aidan’s ears.
As it is, his face is so red I’m not sure there’s enough blood left for the rest of his body.
“Cider?” I pour a generous helping of rum into his mug before handing it over.
“Come on. Dinner.” I grab his free hand and lead him to the dining room.
My family all pretend to be busy fussing over the plates and silverware, but it’s clear the real focus is on the two of us.
Before long, everyone’s forgotten about our kitchen theatrics in favor of focusing on their food.
Even Aidan seems to relax a little bit as he eats and chats with my family.
Like me, they seem to fall back into a routine with him easily, talking like only a few days had passed since the last time he sat at this table with us.
I wish I could remember when it was. At one time, he probably ate here at least once a week. Then, suddenly, there was a last time.
How many last times had there been in our relationship? The last time we hung out in the treehouse, the last time we went skating on the pond, the last time we had a sleepover in my bedroom.
I hope this marks the beginning of something new, replacing those last times with new first times and next times.
“So, how long have you two been dating?”
I nearly choke on a bit of mashed potatoes, which takes some work.
“Not long,” Aidan says, smacking me on the back.
“How long is that?” my mom continues.
I swallow a few gulps of water, trying to figure out what fits within my lies. When did I first mention the fake boyfriend?
“Oh, what’s it been now, Snookie? Two? Three months.” Aidan looks like he might murder me. He keeps his face neutral, but I can see the clench in his jaw. So, not Snookie for a pet name.
“That sounds right,” he says.
“That means the two of you must’ve connected as soon as Covey got back to Vermont.”
I do some quick math that proves my mom is correct. Probably. Math isn’t my thing.
“Yep, I gave him a call when I moved back to see about reconnecting for old times’ sake.” I set my hand on Aidan’s knee, and he nearly leaps out of his skin. Not exactly what I’d expect from a guy I’d been dating for almost three months. One I’d been fake dating for about a week? Maybe.
“And then what?” My mom leans in, like there’s a whole bunch of juicy details to hear. If there was, I certainly wouldn’t tell her.
“Uh, you know, we sort of hit it off.” I glance over at Aidan to gauge his comfort level. He’s scraping a bunch of peas back and forth across his plate with his fork, not making eye contact with anyone.
“Is that code for something?” my dad asks.
“No.” Aidan’s tone makes it clear that part of the conversation is over.
“You know how it is sometimes… things just click.” I pick my hand up off of Aidan’s thigh and snap my fingers.
It adds a layer of drama, but more importantly, pulls attention away from Aidan.
“Now, tell me what’s new at church. Any good gossip?
” An obvious distraction? Sure, but there’s nothing my mom enjoys discussing more than the stories she hears at church.
We’re not very religious, so I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason she goes every week.
Lucky for me, my diversion works to take the heat off the two of us for the rest of the meal. By the time Aidan and I walk out the front door, I’m as tired as I am after a day with double classes.
“That went… medium,” Aidan says when we’re safely down the walk toward our cars. That seems like a bit of an exaggeration, but I’m willing to bump my assessment up from awful to medium.
“Could’ve been better.” Maybe Maddox was right, something I’ll never tell him. “We might need a little more work to sell this.”
“I think we need to spend some time together.” Aidan puts his hand on my shoulder. “To get our story straight,” he says, clarifying.
Yeah, I think that was pretty apparent. We’ll never get away with this unless we get to know each other better. And figure out exactly what we’re going to tell people about our relationship. They’re going to ask questions. “Good idea. Any suggestions?”
“Want to come over to my place one night this week? We can order food and chat,” Aidan offers.
“Sure, my schedule’s a little bit weird, though.”
“Text me and we’ll work it out around your practices.”
“Rehearsals,” I clarify.
“Those, too.”