5. Kai
Five
Kai
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
Ego's voice follows me into my bedroom as I yank open another drawer.
“Nope.”
I toss a black t-shirt onto the bed.
Then immediately pick it back up.
Then throw it onto the floor.
Not church appropriate.
Probably.
The shirt has a skull wearing sunglasses and holding two assault rifles.
Okay.
Definitely not church appropriate.
“What about this?”
I hold up a faded concert shirt.
Ego stares at it.
Then at me.
Then back at the shirt.
“Isn't that from that death metal festival we worked where four people were almost trampled to death in a riot when a certain musical guest failed to appear?”
“Maybe.”
“Kai.”
“Fine.”
I toss that one, too.
Honestly, I don't know what the hell people wear to church bingo.
Normal people probably know.
Unfortunately, I'm me.
“Kai? Are you listening?”
No.
Not even a little.
Because tonight is Bingo night.
And technically, it's my first date with Mary.
Even if it’s fake.
Fake-dating.
Fake relationship.
Fake everything.
Well, almost everything.
Because even knowing this isn’t real, that hasn't stopped me from thinking about Mary Donahue every waking second for the past week.
Not that I'm counting or anything.
And so what?
It’s not like I’m drawing our names with little goo-goo hearts on every available surface.
I’m not stalking her socials—not much.
And I definitely haven’t memorized her coffee order.
Or the way she wrinkles her nose when she’s annoyed.
Or the exact shade of green her eyes turn when she’s trying not to laugh.
Nope.
Not me.
I wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything like that.
I just—okay, fine, I’ll admit it—I like her.
“Look,” I say, finally finding a button-down that doesn't make me look like a criminal. “The plan is simple.”
Ego folds his arms.
This is never a good sign.
“Okay.”
“I've got all this free time.”
“You got suspended.”
“Administrative leave.”
“You got suspended.”
“Whatever.”
He grins.
Asshole.
“Anyway, I've got time. She needs help. The school needs help. I can help. End of story.”
“Help her or fuck her?”
“Hey!”
I grab a dirty sock and launch it at his face.
The bastard catches it.
“Watch your mouth.”
“Oh, yeah? It’s like that?”
His grin widens.
“Alright, I see.”
“You see what, Ego?”
“You like her.”
“Shut up.”
“You like like her.”
“I said shut up.”
“You really like her!”
“Ego!”
“Wow. I never thought I’d see the day!”
I point at him.
“Look, idiot, just shut up about her. Mary is a human being and deserves to be respected.”
“Uh huh.”
“You don't get to talk about her like that.”
“Sure.”
“Besides, she's Sabrina's best friend. I’m sure your girl’s got a rule about shit talking her best friend,” I snap, and I know I got him now.
Fucker just shakes it off.
“Nah, I see what you're doing, hiding behind Sabrina’s friendship.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
I hate that he's smiling.
Mostly because I know what's coming next.
“There's definitely a rule somewhere about respect.”
Ego starts laughing.
Fucking chuckling like a schoolgirl.
Dumb ass.
“Bro.”
“What?” I ask, annoyed because I can’t find a shirt, and because my idiot twin is pissing me off.
“You punched a councilman for touching her.”
“He deserved it.”
“You've been showing up at her school with coffee.”
“She likes hazelnut.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
Shit.
“Interesting.”
“Don't.”
“You know her coffee order.”
“No, I don't.”
“Hazelnut.”
“Everybody likes hazelnut.”
“Not Sabrina.”
“Shut up.”
“Not me either.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Not Mom.”
“Ego, I'm fucking serious.”
He points dramatically.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant is obsessed.”
I throw another dirty gym sock.
This one hits him.
Victory.
Small victory.
But I'll take it.
The truth is, the fake dating thing started as a joke.
Mostly.
Okay, maybe not mostly.
Maybe fifty-fifty.
The school needs publicity.
The gym project needs attention.
The permit situation stinks.
Nobody can prove Jonas has anything to do with it.
But nobody can prove he doesn't either.
I’ve been researching.
And people are talking.
They're already talking about me.
They're already talking about Mary.
Might as well control the narrative.
That's all.
Totally professional.
Completely strategic.
Has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I've spent every morning this week finding excuses to stop by Our Lady of Grace Academy.
None whatsoever.
The first day I'd brought coffee.
The second day, donuts.
The third day, I claimed I needed directions.
To a place I've been before.
More than once.
Mary called me an idiot.
I laughed.
She laughed too.
That one caught me off guard.
Because Mary's laugh is dangerous.
The real one.
Not the polite teacher laugh.
The genuine one.
The one that lights up her whole face.
The one that makes me want to hear it again.
And again.
And again.
“Earth to Romeo.”
I flip my brother off.
“Not listening.”
“You were smiling.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
I wasn't.
Probably.
Maybe.
Whatever.
I grab a clean white shirt from my closet and put it on.
I button it, leaving the top two open, and I glance in the mirror.
Not terrible.
At least I don't look like I'm heading to a fight in a UFC match.
Progress.
“So, what do you and Mary even talk about?” Ego asks.
“Normal stuff.”
“Like?”
I shrug.
“Movies.”
“Movies?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
I shouldn't smile.
But I do.
Because the first time I found out Mary loved Die Hard, I nearly drove off the road.
A first-grade teacher.
A Catholic school teacher.
A woman who owns approximately seventeen cardigans.
And her favorite Christmas movie is Die Hard.
I knew then that we had a shot.
A real one.
“You know she thinks Hans Gruber is one of the best movie villains ever?”
Ego looks horrified.
“You asked her that?”
Shit.
“Maybe.”
“You definitely have a problem.”
I ignore him.
Because he's not entirely wrong.
There was also the Thai food incident.
Which happened after one of our meetings.
She'd ordered takeout.
I showed up with coffee.
She offered me food.
Next thing I knew we'd spent an hour arguing over the proper level of spice.
Turns out Mary likes food the same way she likes life.
Maximum chaos.
“Five stars isn't food,” I told her.
“Five stars is self-harm.”
“Coward,” she'd replied.
Then she'd eaten an entire plate of something that looked capable of stripping paint.
I still don't understand how someone so cute can be so terrifying.
And now I'm smiling again.
Damn it.
“You're gone,” Ego says.
“What?”
“You're completely gone.”
I point at him.
“No.”
“You are.”
“Nope.”
“You're picking out church Bingo clothes.”
“It's a fundraiser.”
“You know what I wore when I was pretending not to like Sabrina?”
“Nothing?” I retort.
Ego glares.
I grin.
“You’re such a baby,” he grumbles.
“You know you came out second and were deprived of oxygen for like a full ninety seconds because your big head got stuck, right?”
Ego frowns.
And I grin wider.