Chapter 2
A GAME OF PRETEND
ZANDER
I’ve found myself exactly where I want to be—sitting across from Briar at a restaurant. This was on my to-do list upon returning to my hometown. However, this wasn’t how I imagined it going down.
Briar is sitting across from me, but she’s pretending to be Blair.
When I saw her, I thought it would be funny to call out to her with her sister’s name. The last thing I expected was for her not to correct me.
I may be seated exactly where I want to be, but the circumstances make this tough. There are so many questions at the forefront of my mind, but I can’t ask any of them.
There has to be a reason Briar is pretending to be Blair, so I’ll play this silly little game of pretend to get to the bottom of it. Besides, I’ll get to spend more time with her, which is a win regardless of the situation.
As soon as I’m home, I have to text Blair again. I know these two have swapped places a few times to take a test for the other, but this is next level.
I mean, it’s me.
I’ve known these two since we were five years old. Blair has been one of my best friends for twenty years, and Briar…well, I’ve loved her from afar for at least twelve of those.
Does she really think I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart?
“What’re you going to get?” she asks, her eyes darting up from the menu she practically hides behind.
My menu is open between my hands, but I haven’t glanced at it once. I already know what I’m going to order. My attention has been glued to Briar.
The fact that she picked up the menu proves she isn’t Blair. Like me, Blair gets the same thing every time we come here.
“My usual.” I try not to smile at the way her eyebrows crinkle as she thinks. “Spicy crispy crab rolls, smoked salmon rolls, and the classic California roll.”
She nods, a few strands of her pale-lilac hair falling in front of her eyes, where she leaves them. Her eyes continue traveling over the pages, darting around so quickly that I wonder how she even reads anything.
I cock my head to the side, the movement catching her attention. “Are you going to get your usual?”
Her eyes open wider for a split second, followed by rapid blinking.
She lowers the menu, revealing more of her face.
The same rosiness that painted her cheeks when we saw each other on the wisteria path colors her face.
I don’t know if the color has left since I spotted her—but I quite like it there.
“I, uh, don’t think so.” She shakes her head, the scent of her lemon shampoo entering the air. “I’m going to mix it up a bit today. Dynamite rolls and green dragon rolls.”
Only two types of rolls? Definitely Briar—she’s always been someone who orders smaller amounts of food, because in her words, she can always order more.
Blair, though? That woman orders four types of rolls and a few appetizers. With her bottomless pit of a stomach, she gets through it all in one sitting.
Speaking of, I wonder if Briar wants any. “Do you want to split an appetizer or two?”
Her eyes narrow, finally breaking from the stare we’d been caught in. Was it what I asked?
“Sure…” Her answer is hesitant, her hands both folded in her lap. By the way her elbows twitch, I can tell she’s nervously picking at her cuticles. Something she’s done since we were at the end of middle school. “Nothing spicy, though.”
My lips fight against me, dying to curve up into a smile. At this point, I’m not sure if she’s even trying to pretend to be Blair. She should know her sister, and her sister has the spice tolerance of a demon.
Which I suppose she’s similar to, in a way. Banshees are like cousins to demons, but not entirely the same.
I raise a brow, wondering if she’ll finally admit she’s not Blair. “The master of spice doesn’t want something spicy?”
She takes a deep breath, her elbow twitching again. “On a spice cleanse—to rest my palette.”
“Sounds about right.” I nod, acting as if this is something Blair would do. It’s not, though. “So, what’s new with Briar? I already know what’s new with you, but I haven’t spoken to your sister since I was in town last.”
While it feels strange to ask Briar about herself in this way, I am curious what she’s been up to. Blair only reveals me so much when I ask, always telling me to reach out myself.
The feelings I’ve secretly had are something Blair loves to tease me about. Especially since I’ve been too nervous to make any sort of move all these years. Briar is just so reserved, I’ve never been sure if she reciprocates the way I feel.
Now is when I will figure it all out, even if it takes a game of pretend.
Briar’s eyes dart around before she turns her attention back to the menu…even though she already told me what she’s getting. “Briar’s, uh, just doing her usual things. Reading, working from home as an insurance agent.”
“So, she really did end up in an independent field,” I comment, watching for any slight change in her face.
Her gaze flickers up to mine again, and she nods. “Well, she’s always preferred to be on her own—in most cases.”
That much hasn’t changed. I’ve always wondered how Blair and Briar ended up so different. Where Blair is social and loves to be out and about, Briar has always liked to stay in, and not really associated much with, well, anyone.
Even me.
She would do things occasionally with Blair and I, but very sporadically. When she would join us on one of our adventures, she always gave off a nervous vibe. I’ve always wondered why.
Or more so, I’ve always hoped her nervousness was for the same reason as my own—a shared attraction, feelings.
“Does she have a partner?” I ask blatantly, my heart beating faster as anticipation fills every bone in my body.
Gods, I hope she doesn’t. I don’t want to have missed my chance after all these years. I won’t let her slip through my fingers this time. Now that we’re older—and I’ve developed more confidence—I’m going to tell her how I feel.
After she’s done pretending that she’s Blair.
Just as she opens her mouth, the server pops over to our table, interrupting the moment. Quickly, I place my order, Briar doing the same. When they leave the table, I turn my attention back to Briar.
She doesn’t say anything at first, her eyes just scanning my face as if she’s trying to figure out something. Every second that passes has my heart filling with dread—is it taking her this long to answer the partner question because she’s seeing someone?
“No, she doesn’t,” Briar finally spits out, and my heart immediately calms.
Even my shoulders feel lighter at her words, like a weight lifted. One that’s been there since the moment I left town. There’s still lingering worry that I’ll somehow lose the courage I’ve built up before I get to tell her my feelings, but this is step one…out of like, fifty.
I nod, my tongue finally coordinating with my brain. “What about you, seeing anyone new these days?”
The truth is, I already know all about Blair’s dating life. We’ve done weekly FaceTime calls to update each other on our lives ever since I left for school. It’s easier than texting throughout the week—for her at least, since she’s a chronically poor texter.
I have to act the part though, and right now my part in this is to play along with Briar’s little game.
“Still living the free life.” The way Briar says Blair’s catchphrase is so believable that if it had been the first words out of her mouth, I might have doubted who I was talking to.
Honestly, if I hadn’t been so attentive to the fine details of Briar all these years, I probably wouldn’t know the difference between them. Their teachers never could tell them apart, even with their opposite demeanors. They’ve always been good at impersonating each other.
Briar could never fool me, though.
I’ve spent too much time observing her. Too many hours memorizing the way she moves, the way she talks, the things she likes. Even when I tried to push her from my mind, thoughts of her crept back in.
When I was away, I saw her in everything I did, everywhere I went. Her favorite brands and products jumped out at me when I went grocery shopping. Anything remotely similar to the scent of her perfume made her pop into my mind.
One time a woman nearby laughed, and I could’ve sworn it was Briar. I whirled around so hard I swear I gave myself whiplash. The disappointment I felt when it wasn’t Briar…
That’s how I knew I made a mistake not confessing my feelings sooner.
“Refresh my memory,” she says, pausing only to give a quick thank you to the server as our sushi arrives. “How’s your dating life?”
The corner of my lip twitches up at the question, a smile begging to take over my face. Blair knows that I’m not dating, that I tried a few times while I was away at school, just to see if I could get over my feelings for Briar.
I couldn’t, though. I never made it past the first date with someone. Briar was always at the forefront of my mind. No other woman has ever compared to her. None ever will.
“Still working up the courage to tell that special someone my true feelings,” I admit, my cheeks growing warm.
Will she know I’m talking about her—well, about Briar—since she’s “not Briar” right now? Or will my confession miss the mark and put more distance between me and the one I’ve loved since we were seven years old?
As she chews her sushi roll, her hand covers her mouth. It’s incredibly cute, the way her delicate fingers block her chewing, and the rosiness in her cheeks that reaches the top of her pointed ears…she’s simply perfect.
Gods, how I’ve missed seeing her face.
Glossiness coats her eyes, and a deep sense of worry fills every bone in my body. My eyebrows furrow as she lowers her hand, swallowing her sushi. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and she goes pale.
Suddenly, she jumps up from her seat—at least she tries to—her legs getting caught against the booth’s table.
My hands fly out to steady her, even though she’s not falling. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going on.
She does a quick shuffle along the bench seat, then stands in the aisle. “Excuse me for one moment.” She rushes off to the washroom before I can say anything.
Was it something I said? Or just bad sushi?
As the minutes pass, I can’t control my leg as it bounces beneath the table. It feels like she ran out on me, but this isn’t a date, and she hasn’t left the building…that I’m aware of.
The server returns, eyeing the empty spot across from me. “Would you like to-go boxes?”
I hesitate a moment before nodding. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
They give one vigorous nod before spinning on their heel and walking toward the kitchen. As they disappear from view, Briar emerges from the hallway containing the washrooms.
Her pace is fast as she approaches the table, doing that same hip-swiveling scurry she’s always had. With such a distinct walk, it’s funny that she thinks I could ever confuse her with Blair.
However, the humor is in the back of my mind, my concern for her at the front. “Are you okay?”
She lightly shrugs, sliding back into the booth, her eyes glued to the food in front of her. “Just feeling unwell suddenly…it came on out of nowhere.”
“I figured. The server is bringing us boxes.” My heart aches when she won’t meet my gaze. “Ready to head home?”
Her shoulders fall as she sighs, one I can only assume is relief. My stomach turns. I did something wrong, or more likely, I said something wrong.
Gods, how have I already fucked this up?
“Yeah, I think so…” She slowly raises her eyes to meet mine. “But maybe we can catch up some more tomorrow, or something?”
The storm in my stomach calms, now more like a distant rumble of thunder. Okay, I didn’t mess things up enough for her to avoid me. That’s a win.
A win dampened by the fact she’s still pretending to be Blair, but a win nonetheless.
“Tomorrow is a busy day for me, but how about Thursday?” I ask, an immense amount of hopefulness filling me. “Gotta see my parents tomorrow. Tell them I’m moving back and finished school early, y’know?”
Her eyes light up, widening as she scans my face while nodding. “That works.”
We pack up our leftovers, paying separately—which won’t be happening if I get to take her out on a proper date—and before I know it, we’re standing across from each other outside.
“I can walk you home since it’s dark.” An offer I would make for Blair, too.
She’s shaking her head no before I can even finish my sentence. “No—I mean, uh, no thanks. I’ll be fine. See you Thursday.”
There’s a moment of hesitation as she looks me over, her cheeks regaining some color after going so pale in the restaurant. Even under the streetlights, the reddish hue is visible, though it doesn’t quite reach her pointed ears like earlier.
I only get to view her rosiness for a few seconds before she spins on her heel and walks away, giving a wave over her shoulder. A chuckle leaves me as she gets farther away. The way she scurries has always brought me joy.
When we were younger, I thought it was an interesting way of walking. It’s unique in ways no one could replicate.
At some point, the scurrying became accompanied by the swivel of her hips. It was still interesting, but it also gained a layer of sexiness. One that really stirs my desire for her. While I hate to see her leave, I love to watch her walk away.
It’s even better knowing I get to see her again in a few days.
I look forward to the continuation of our game of pretend. Even more so, though, I look forward to finding out why she’s playing it.