4. Nick #2
But, if I’m the one to break it off, I’ll take back some of the control that slipped the moment I laid eyes on her. When I drop her off, I’ll say it. Tonight was fun, but it’s only for show.
She opens her mouth, but I can’t let her apologize for everything, because I’ll never be sorry I got to touch her. So, I blurt, “Are you staying on campus, then?”
“What? Oh, yeah. I don’t have a car. I haven’t driven in forever.” She laughs, but it’s pitched high. Nervous.
“Want to give it a try?” I pull my keys from my pocket and toss them to her.
She flails, batting them around before catching them. “Warn a girl, will you? The last organized sport I played was T-Ball.”
I wait patiently while she presses the buttons on my key fob to unlock my SUV. I hated the waver in her voice when she said she hasn’t driven for a while, like she’s unsure she still can. The Junie I’d known was confident.
We settle inside and I’m content to watch her in my space, adjusting the seat and mirrors. A memory spears me like lightning, the one and only time I’d been alone with her in high school. It’d been late at night, just like this. Though I’d been the one driving her home from Denny’s.
“Do you remember how to get there?” I laugh, but the deeper meaning in my question simmers beneath the surface. Did you forget this place so thoroughly? Did you forget the people too?
She scoffs. “Of course.”
June pulls out of the lot, right turn signal blinking.
“It’s left.”
“If I go right, I can turn down Jeffries, and then cut through that lawyer’s office parking lot.”
“Which puts you on Mason. But Kinney Run bought property there a few years ago and blocked off the street except for foot traffic. You’d get to campus, but nowhere near where you’re staying. Atch, right?”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Sorry, I do remember everything just … the way it used to be. Not the way it is now. Listen, I have?—”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.” What a dumbass. I run my hand across the back of my neck. I was so worried she would say it was time to stop pretending that I spouted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Why would you think that, Nick?” She slows at a stop sign and turns to me.
Her skin is pale, delicate, in the glowing console light, but a faint blush blooms on her cheeks.
“We had classes together, band together, you played in the pit of every musical. This isn’t some early 2000’s romcom where you were the unnoticed nerd and I was super popular.
I was president of the improv club, for fuck’s sake.
” She slaps the steering wheel for emphasis.
“Yes, and?” It’s a terrible joke, but I have to make it.
Her laugh is loud and quick, startling her. Good. This is the most she’s ever said to me, and if I need to rile her up to make her talk more, laugh more, I’ll do it happily. “So, you weren’t popular but I was the unnoticed nerd?”
“I literally said I noticed you!” Her voice shoots up an octave.
“You noticed I was a nerd.” I can’t hide my smile anymore, provoking her is too much fun.
She shoots me an adorable death glare, but her mouth drops open. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Big time.” I keep my laugh quiet to hear June’s again, floating on the air, light and heady.
She pulls onto Horse Street and stops at the curb near the walkway to Acheson. “I meant, we’re not in high school anymore, but …” Her voice trails off and she shrugs.
Tonight was immature.
I scrub a hand down my face, steeling my resolve, clinging to the last desperate shreds of my self-respect.
And I tuck away my secret—that from the moment she’d looped her arm through mine, I hadn’t been pretending.
“Exactly. Tonight was fun. But it’s best if we stay friends. We’re too old for games like that.”
“Oh. Yeah. Absolutely. Way too old. Anyway, I better get going. It was good to see you. I’ll see you at morning announcements, and obviously see you around campus, too. And I’ve said ‘see you’ like a hundred times and it’s lost all meaning,” she babbles, lacing her fingers together in her lap.
Maybe she’s embarrassed about the whole night, though, aside from some awkwardness at the beginning, she’s never been this self-conscious. Unless … “Do you want to keep pretending we’re d-dating?”
“What? No. Why? Do you?” Either June has somehow become the world’s worst actor, or in a handful of hours, I’ve become so attuned to her that I intrinsically sense she’s guarded but hopeful.
“No.” I want to date you for real , at least I had the good sense to slam my mouth shut before I finished my thought. But June only heard me say no, and now her head’s bobbing aggressively, like she’s agreeing harder than me.
“Oh, shit. I’m such an ass, of course you don’t want to. Forget I said anything.”
I sigh, letting my determination slip through my fingers. “Why did you want to pretend to begin with?”
“As you probably noticed, I have an insane lady crush on Natalia. God, she’s so cool. I want to be her when I grow up.”
“She’s not that much older than us.”
“Not the point.” She tips her head back against the headrest, sighing. “Natalia’s directing a play this fall, and I was hoping to get to know her so that when I audition for it, she’ll remember me. But if she thinks I’m messy …”
“That’ll ruin your chances. And you don’t want her to think that of you,” I finish.
“Exactly. But, that’s my problem, not yours.”
I white-knuckle the last of my pride and ask, “So, this has nothing to do with Shaw?”
“God, no.” Her hand shoots out, covering my forearm.
She held my hand in the bar, but that was in front of people.
This is just for me. Her touch raises goosebumps on my skin.
“My last year at camp Shaw and I … hung out. And I figured that since I was around again this summer—you know. And he acted like he was interested, but Hannah came out of nowhere and I panicked. And I am so, so sorry for being rude to you earlier about my nickname. I was upset at something else and snapped at you. And I shouldn’t even ask you to keep pretending to date me.
You have every reason to say no. Hell, I would say no. I sound ridiculous.”
“Yes,” I blurt, just to stop her rollercoaster of a speech. Shaw’s name on her lips has my hands clenching into fists. No doubt he’ll hit on June at some point this summer, fiancée or no. And while I appreciate her apology, she was so dejected, calling herself ridiculous, and I couldn’t take it.
“Yes, I sound ridiculous, or yes, you’ll pretend to date me?” She bites her lip, and I wish the lighting were better so I could watch it turn a deeper shade of red.
I blow out a breath. At least this isn’t about Shaw. Fucking last-name-as-first-name people will be the death of me. “This all feels convoluted. I’m happy to just put in a good word for you to Nat.” And we won’t have to pretend to date . And I won’t get to put my arm around you and pull you close.
“Just … give me a week. Then we can say we’re better off as friends, and no one has to know. If Natalia finds out this was all fake, she’ll think I’m too much trouble to cast, and it’s been hard to find work as it is.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper as she stares at her lap.
Fuck, all I want to do is wrap my arms around her.
Am I actually so pathetic that I’ll agree to her crazy one-week scheme because I can’t stand to see her like this? Yes, yes, I am. It only took a couple hours, but I’m learning there’s nothing she could ask that I won’t do.
Besides, June would never date someone like me unless it was some kind of arrangement. I was a nerd in high school, and I’m a nerd now. Anything I offer pales in comparison to the guys she dates in New York City.
“Never mind.” She swipes at her cheek. Fuck, is she crying? “Like you said, childish.”
I took too long to answer, and she figures I’m turning her down. She probably likes decisive men.
“I’ll do it.” Was my voice too loud? It was definitely too loud.
“Really?” She lets out a breathless gasp and smiles.
I’m so screwed. Now I’m not only addicted to her smile, but I’m addicted to that sound, too. My mind unhelpfully supplies a variety of ways to make her gasp like that, and none of them are appropriate for a pretend boyfriend.
“Sure.” I swallow thickly.
“But, wait, what do you get out of it? You’re doing me such a huge favor. Is there something I can do for you?”
It has to be my imagination—the way her voice dips and turns husky.
“I—no.” I almost wish I had something, anything, to tie her to me. “It’s just a week, right? It’s not like we’re settling down.”
June wheezes out a strange noise, eyes wide.
“You okay?” She practically had an allergic reaction to those last two words. I need to walk it back.
“Yeah,” she rasps. “You want to settle down?”
“Well—not with you.” Oh, even better. Walking it back is going so well for me.
“Wow, okay.” Her laugh is weak, but teasing. “That’s my cue to say goodnight.”
She leaves the car idling and gets out. I rip the keys from the ignition and follow her down the walkway to Acheson. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Like what?” She spins to face me, and I pull up short.
We’re so close that hints of her perfume hit me, but it’s too faint. “I—I know I’m not your usual type.”
She crosses her arms, shoulders set in challenge. “Who’s my type, then?”
“Shaw?” My lips pull back. I hate even his name sitting between us.
She makes a face. “After what I said, I guess that’s fair.”
Neither of us has pulled away, and we speak at the same time when our eyes clash.
“For the record, he’s not?—”
“You don’t seem like you want?—”
We both stop, chuckling.
“Ground rules,” I croak.
“What?”
“We need ground rules.”
“Yes!” June latches onto the subject change, but her face falls. “Shit, was that okay earlier? When I was touching you?”
I can’t stop the hoarse laugh barking up my throat. “Sorry, yes. That was—fine.”
“I should’ve asked first. Ground rules are a good idea. So, touching is okay?” Her gaze strays to my hands. She licks her lips, and I try—I really try—not to look at them, but I wish it were my tongue running along the perfect bow of her top lip. “What about kissing?”
Do it . We’re alone at her door at the end of what is essentially a date. It would be so easy to close the gap between us, press my mouth to hers.
Raucous laughter splits the night. A group of counselors from Shaker’s rounds up the sidewalk, the girls heading for Atch while the boys cross the street to the Kerr Building.
June nearly jumps out of her skin, and I finally step back. At least I didn’t make a fool of myself. Fake boyfriends definitely don’t kiss the way I want to—with greedy hands and warring tongues. “One week, Juniper.”
“One week, Nick.” She waves as I head back toward my car.
I hold my breath until her key card beeps, unlocking the front door. It’s torture not turning back. But if I did, and she’d already gone inside, it would be worse.
Fake dating my high school crush. It doesn’t get more pathetic.