10. Cherise #2
“Greg, how’s the gym expansion coming?” Logan asked from across the table, looping an arm around Grace’s chair.
Greg leaned back in his seat as he took a sip of his whiskey.
“It’s going great,” he replied. “Might be in the market for a new build.” His eyes locked with Leo’s, and I tensed.
“Derrick, I heard you're in real estate, right? I’m scouting locations for a new gym. I’m thinking something with high foot traffic, solid square footage.
Have you ever brokered commercial properties? ”
Leo’s spine shot as straight as a kid called on in class.
Oh no.
Leo hesitated. Then he cleared his throat.
“You know, it’s all about flow, right? You want open space, good circulation, maybe high ceilings to really let the air...
uh, circulate. You also need a solid foundation, obviously.
If the pressure builds in the wrong spot, that’s how you end up with a total structural clog.
I mean, you don’t want your deadlifts bottlenecked in a corner.
That’s how you lose membership retention. Or pipes. Or… both.”
Sweet mother of ball valves, he did not just compare a commercial real estate deal to a clogged drain.
I kicked him under the table so hard I nearly dislodged his shinbone.
He yelped and then silence. Pure, suffocating silence.
Savannah’s eyes narrowed like a bloodhound sniffing bullshit. “So… what I am hearing is if the layout’s constipated, the members can’t squat?”
God, no. Abort.
I was two seconds from yeeting a breadstick at Savannah’s face as a distraction when Chelsea lunged across the table as though she’d been waiting for the cue.
“Penis!” Chelsea all but screamed, slamming her hand on the table. “Oh my God, this shrimp looks like a penis.”
The entire table turned as she held up the offending shrimp tail.
“Tell me this doesn’t look like a penis. A weird, shriveled one, but still.”
Miles snorted in his water. Layla choked on her breadstick. Grace ducked her head into Logan’s shoulder, shaking with silent laughter.
Beneath the table, I blindly extended my fist. Chelsea found it with hers in a celebratory fist bump.
“Saved your ass,” she whispered without looking.
“I take back every time I said you were only good at eating hot chips without flinching and gaslighting men. That shrimp save? That was Nobel Peace Prize material. I owe you one, sis.”
“Damn right you do. I’ll take it in the form of a new wig and a spa day.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my drink.
The server arrived with our entrees, lifting silver domes with dramatic flair. A collective “ooooh” passed around the table as everyone admired their plates.
Savannah, who was already diving into a risotto she didn’t deserve, cocked her head toward Leo with a sugar-sweet smile that made my molars ache.
Leo politely smiled back.
“So, Cherise, how did you and Derrick meet?” Tessa asked out of freaking nowhere.
My knife paused mid-cut. My brain sprinted through memory.
Oh. My. God.
We talked about favorite foods, favorite colors, middle names, but how the hell did we not talk about how we met?
Should I just make something up on the spot? What if I go to say something and he says something different at the same time, and our cover is ruined? What if he’s waiting on me to say something, and the silence drags, making this moment way more awkward than it already is?
I forced a smile, praying my voice didn’t waver. “We—”
“High school,” Leo cut in smoothly, voice warm and steady. “She was this loud, fearless girl in my chemistry class who threatened to body slam a senior for calling me four eyes in the hallway.”
Laughter rippled through the table.
“I didn’t talk much back then. Had a slight stutter.
Wore baggy cargo pants and orthopedic shoes.
I basically screamed kick me. But she didn’t care.
She sat next to me at lunch, cracked jokes until I smiled, and once taped a note to my locker that said, “Confidence looks good on you. Try it sometime.” He glanced at me then, a flicker of something too tender for this half-drunk crowd.
He continued, deep brown eyes buried into mine.
“She was beautiful. Still is. But back then, I thought she was made of fire. She burned so bright it made you want to step into the flame just to feel it.”
Silence.
Even the shrimp looked stunned.
Grace mouthed “Oh my God,” Layla blinked twice, and Savannah’s lips were pursed tight.
But I? I was in hell.
Because that story was true.
But it wasn’t how Derrick and I met. That was how I met Leo.
That hallway. That note. Those words.
The story was real.
But the question was…
Was it just a sweet performance? A well-rehearsed monologue for our fake little dating gig? Or had he felt all of that back then?
Does he have feelings for me now?
Nope. Absolutely not. I was not built for this level of emotional whiplash.
What just came out of Leo’s mouth was… poetic. Embarrassingly so. I can’t believe he remembered that note. The one I slapped on his locker with cheap tape. I was fifteen! I still wore rhinestone belts and thought eyeliner was a personality trait.
And he just… said all that? Out loud? In front of everyone.
Why would he do that? He didn’t need to make it real-real.
My palms were sweating. My drink was gone. Chelsea was out of penis shrimps, and I had no backup plan if Savannah launched into another round of passive-aggressive probing. My entire personality was built on controlling the narrative. This?
This was off script.
Because yes, that’s how we met.
And yeah, I did threaten to throw someone down the stairwell for mocking his lisp.
But that was just how I was.
Years in foster care taught you to grow up fast and throw hands faster. You learned to read people, find the scared ones, and stand between them and the blow. I wasn’t fearless, just tired of watching people like me get hurt.
So, when I saw this awkward, wide-eyed boy with nervous hands and too-big shoes getting laughed at in the hallway, I stepped in. I always stepped in.
Hearing him say it now… The way he looked at me when he said I was fire. Beautiful. That I protected him.
Maybe he was just saying what he thought would sell the lie.
The bad part about that was…
Deep down, a part of me wished it were true.
Damn it, Leo.
The waiter refilled my glass, and I chugged half of it immediately.
Tessa clutched her chest. “That is so sweet. Seriously. You two are adorable.”
Her smile was genuine and warm. But Savannah?
Not so much.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t sip. Just narrowed her eyes, her voice laced with curiosity and something sharper beneath the surface.
“I don’t remember you wearing glasses,” she said slowly, brows knitting. “Or being picked on, for that matter. The way I remembered it… You were Mr. Popular.”
Leo’s entire body stiffened beside me.
Oh, hell.
I could practically hear the gears seizing inside his head. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
So, I jumped in.
“Um—it was his freshman year,” I said quickly, tossing my napkin onto my lap. “Total late bloomer situation. Glasses, braces, the whole shebang. Then puberty hit, he got contacts, and boom. Whole new man.”
A long, awkward pause.
I took another gulp of my wine.
Leo nodded enthusiastically, clearly relieved. “Yeah. That about sums it all up.”
Layla, thank God, came in with the save.
“Alright, alright, let’s give the lovebirds a break before this turns into a deposition,” she said, lifting her glass with a knowing smile. “I think they’ve earned a break from the hot seat.”
Leo and I both exhaled in sync.
“Now,” Layla continued, standing with her glass raised, “can we please focus on the actual reason we’re all here? To celebrate my brother and the woman who somehow puts up with his grumpy ass.”
Everyone laughed.
“To Grace and Logan,” she said, grinning. “May your love be even louder than your arguments.”
We all raised our glasses, a chorus of cheers echoing around the table. The tension melted into laughter, silverware clinking, and plates being cleared.
Lunch was officially over.
But my thoughts weren’t.
Because as everyone moved on, all I could think about was Leo’s story and how it made my chest ache a little.
Leo and I needed to talk. I needed to figure out if all of this was fake. Or if somehow, the lines between pretend and something real were starting to blur.