Chapter 9
COVEY
I’ve spent way too much time thinking about my kiss with Aidan.
Let me rephrase that, I’ve spent nearly every waking minute over the last few days thinking about that kiss.
There was a moment after that when things felt awkward and heavy between us.
Aidan looked a little bit stunned, and for a few seconds, I thought I’d screwed things up.
I asked for his consent, but maybe he felt pressured?
Or changed his mind in the moment? Either way, as much as I want to sell this whole charade to my family, I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.
And then, he smiled at me, and the whole world felt right.
Except for the part where I can’t stop thinking about it.
I’ve done dozens of stage kisses in my career and kissed plenty of guys in bars where it meant nothing more than a bit of fun.
This didn’t feel like any of those. I can hardly remember what those were even like or the names of the people involved.
Every second of that kiss is burned into my brain, playing on repeat. I can’t stop thinking about the way his eyelashes fluttered as I leaned in. The tiny gasp he let out when our lips met. The way he fell slightly forward as I pulled away.
All the things I shouldn’t remember about my friend. I’m not equipped to process all this information. And it’s not made any easier by the fact that we are, once again, at my parents’ house. Why? I have no idea. My mom invited us.
No, scratch that. She invited Aidan. I’m now the tagalong to my own childhood home. He apologized profusely for not saying no right away, but she caught him off guard at the supermarket.
The problem? I don’t want to be here. We’re already committed to two Thanksgiving dinners, three Christmas parties, and a New Year’s celebration. All amongst a lot of people I love and care about but would like to see less of. Plus, I want Aidan all to myself.
Selfish, I know.
“Oh, let me look at you both,” my mom says, rushing toward us with arms open the minute we walk through the front door.
It’s been a whole week and a half since she last saw us, so I’m not sure what she thinks could’ve changed.
“You’ve lost weight,” she says, eyeing me carefully.
Aidan’s already grabbed our jackets to hang in the hall closet, so I’m on my own defending myself.
“I’m leaner right now, Mom. It’s fine.” It doesn’t help that the pants I’m wearing are meant to be baggy. It’s how I prefer my clothing when I’m not on stage or in the dance studio. I know she worries, but her concern can be overwhelming at times.
“Are you eating enough?” she asks, poking at me like I’m some stuffed animal.
“Yes, Mom. Really. I’ve put on more muscle.” I’m not sure if that’s entirely true, but it’s possible. I always slim down this time of year. In the summer, I make a conscious effort to lift weights, bulk up a bit, and then slim down as the fall and winter seasons begin.
“Edith,” Aidan says, pulling attention away from me. “I love the decorations you put up this year.” It’s a little early to be decorating for Christmas. Putting anything up before Thanksgiving is sacrilege in my opinion. My mother disagrees.
“Oh, thank you. I’ve been collecting these for years, but I’ve finally amassed enough to create a proper village. Here, I’ll show you.” She grabs Aidan’s hand and leads him toward the cabinet in the living room. It is indeed a whole village. At this point, it’s probably a proper city.
I take the opportunity to stare at them, the scene so familiar and distant at the same time. Aidan turns back to me for a second and mouths, “Okay?”
I nod, and he turns his attention back to the figurines.
He’s so focused on everything she’s saying, asking questions, and pointing at items, that he doesn’t even notice me.
It gives me a few seconds to study him and assess how he’s changed over the years.
He’s filled out a bit, no longer all limbs.
I doubt he spends much time at the gym, but he’s still in good shape, with broad shoulders.
He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hug every curve of his body, showing off his bubble butt.
Fuck. I should not be checking out my friend’s ass. I shake my head and follow the sound of the TV to the living room to find my father.
AIDAN
“This here is the church.” Covey’s mom points toward a big piece with a tall steeple. “Well, the main one. There’s a smaller one over here.” She pulls me toward the end of the buffet. “That way, people have options for the kind of service they want to attend.”
I’m a little concerned about who she thinks the people are in this situation, but I seem to be sticking the oohs and ahhs in all the right places.
I might not have the full job description for this fake boyfriend role, but I’m almost positive that it includes distracting overzealous parents and acting impressed at the décor.
The deer-in-the-headlights look on Covey’s face when I got back from hanging up our coats told me everything I needed to know. His family means well, but sometimes I think they drive him crazy on purpose.
If I thought for even a second that Covey was struggling, I would be the first person to say something. There’s no way I’d put his health at risk. We may not be dating, but he’s still my friend. Best friend.
“Here you go, Aidan,” Covey says, coming up behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder.
I find myself leaning into his touch. Ever since we kissed, I’ve craved being close to him.
A feeling I’m trying not to examine too carefully.
I’m a touchy-feely guy, so it’s probably the lack of physical contact in my life over the past few months. Or years.
“Thanks, sweetie.” I hope no one else in the room notices the shock on his face when I say sweetie. I could feel the way his muscles tensed before he pulled himself together. It’s still fun to be able to surprise him. Note to self: call Covey by more pet names.
“You’re welcome… honey.” I clap a hand over my mouth, barely able to hold back a chuckle. Fortunately, Edith doesn’t seem to notice any of it.
“Ah, aren’t you two so cute. I’m sure you’ll be married in no time.”
That one comment ruins the warm fuzzy feeling that spread through me a minute ago. Covey and I might be able to get out of this relationship without broken hearts, but will our families? I clear my throat a few times, hoping it dissolves the tightness. “Is dinner ready?”
“Oh, of course. Covey, why don’t you go call your father in from the living room, and I’ll get it on the table.”
A few minutes later, the four of us are gathered around the table, plates full of lasagna, enjoying a story about the raccoon that nearly tore the whole garage apart at Covey’s father’s job.
Covey pushes his food around his plate, eyes glazed over, and only occasionally humming his approval for the story.
“What’s up?” I lean in and whisper in his ear. The sudden urge to put my head on his shoulder shocks me. I pull back a bit and bite my bottom lip.
“Yeah, it’s just…” He doesn’t finish that sentence.
“I know.” I put a hand on his leg and give his thigh a slight squeeze. I can’t help but close my eyes for a few seconds, letting the sensation ground me. It feels so natural, like this is how things have always been.
“Oh, you two will have to spend some time traveling together. Maybe go camping this summer,” Edith suggests.
I don’t think either of us is the roughing-it type. If I’m going to sleep outdoors, I’d prefer a glamping situation—one with running water and air conditioning.
“Maybe the boys would prefer to go to Europe. Covey could show Aidan around,” Covey’s father suggests. And yeah, I’d like that. Maybe a friend trip will be in the cards this summer.
“Covey, is the lasagna okay? You haven’t eaten very much.”
“It’s great, Mom,” he replies as he pushes a bite across his plate. I can see his anxiety growing by the minute, his leg jackhammering beneath the table.
“I’ll be right back,” he says as he scoots back from the table and heads upstairs.
The table is quiet for a minute after he leaves. “I’m going to check on him.” I don’t wait for a response.
I find Covey sitting on the bed in his childhood room. “Hey,” I knock on the open door a couple of times. “Can I come in?”
He nods and curls his legs around himself in a position I doubt I’d ever be able to get into.
“What’s up?”
“The usual. Wondering how I get myself into these messes.”
“It’s not a mess, Covey.” I sit down next to him and pull him into my arms without thinking.
“It’s a little bit complicated, that’s all.
We knew it would be, but we’ll get through it.
” He takes a few shallow breaths, his muscles tense.
For a second, I wonder if I should back off a bit.
That kiss sent my mind wandering to all sorts of places it shouldn’t be.
Mainly wanting to substitute Covey’s image onto the typically faceless man I jerk-off to.
Which isn’t the kind of thing I should be thinking about while comforting my friend.
“I’m overtired. Sorry. I should’ve cancelled this whole thing.”
“How about we make an excuse and the two of us go to a nearby diner?” Maybe he’ll be able to relax and eat something once we’re away from his family.
“I’d like that.” He smiles at me, and my stomach does a little flip. “You know, they’re going to think we’re up here having a quickie.”
I groan. We’re going to get a reputation. “Come on, let’s go.”
Five minutes later, we’re out the front door after I say a few words about a school emergency—which I don’t think exists—and we’re on our way to a nearby diner.
They have the best waffles in the whole state.
It might not be true, but that’s what they say on the menu.
Only the best for my boyfriend. Fake boyfriend.