“How long is that?” my mom continues.
I swallow a few gulps of water, trying to figure out what fits within my lies. When did I first mention the fake boyfriend?
“Oh, what’s it been now, Snookie? Two? Three months.” Aidan looks like he might murder me. He keeps his face neutral, but I can see the clench in his jaw. So, notSnookiefor a pet name.
“That sounds right,” he says.
“That means the two of you must’ve connected as soon as Covey got back to Vermont.”
I do some quick math that proves my mom is correct. Probably. Math isn’t my thing.
“Yep, I gave him a call when I moved back to see about reconnecting for old times’ sake.” I set my hand on Aidan’s knee, and he nearly leaps out of his skin. Not exactly what I’d expect from a guy I’d been dating for almost three months. One I’d been fake dating for about a week? Maybe.
“And then what?” My mom leans in, like there’s a whole bunch of juicy details to hear. If there was, I certainly wouldn’t tell her.
“Uh, you know, we sort of hit it off.” I glance over at Aidan to gauge his comfort level. He’s scraping a bunch of peas back and forth across his plate with his fork, not making eye contact with anyone.
“Is that code for something?” my dad asks.
“No.” Aidan’s tone makes it clear that part of the conversation is over.
“You know how it is sometimes… things just click.” I pick my hand up off of Aidan’s thigh and snap my fingers. It adds a layer of drama, but more importantly, pulls attention away from Aidan. “Now, tell me what’s new at church. Any good gossip?” An obvious distraction? Sure, but there’s nothing my mom enjoys discussing more than the stories she hears at church. We’re not very religious, so I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason she goes every week.
Lucky for me, my diversion works to take the heat off the two of us for the rest of the meal. By the time Aidan and I walk out the front door, I’m as tired as I am after a day with double classes.
“That went… medium,” Aidan says when we’re safely down the walk toward our cars. That seems like a bit of an exaggeration, but I’m willing to bump my assessment up fromawfultomedium.
“Could’ve been better.” Maybe Maddox was right, something I’ll never tell him. “We might need a little more work to sell this.”
“I think we need to spend some time together.” Aidan puts his hand on my shoulder. “To get our story straight,” he says, clarifying.
Yeah, I think that was pretty apparent. We’ll never get away with this unless we get to know each other better. And figure out exactly what we’re going to tell people about our relationship. They’re going to ask questions. “Good idea. Any suggestions?”
“Want to come over to my place one night this week? We can order food and chat,” Aidan offers.
“Sure, my schedule’s a little bit weird, though.”
“Text me and we’ll work it out around your practices.”
“Rehearsals,” I clarify.
“Those, too.”
CHAPTER 6
AIDAN
Inviting Covey over to my house was a stupid idea. No, that’s being far too nice. After being accosted at Covey’s parents’ house, I panicked. In that moment, it seemed like a good idea.
Now, much clearer-headed, I realize how stupid I was in that moment. It’s not that my place is a mess so much as it’s a bit cluttered. By that, things aren’t in the right place. Ever.
Fine, it’s a bit of a mess. I prefer the lived-in look that it gives my home. Plus, after wrangling a bunch of five and six-year-olds all day, the last thing I want to do is come home and clean. My classroom is kept spotless. When a bunch of germ factories are touching every surface, it’s essential that things are wiped down multiple times a day and items are returned to their correct places.
Work, yes. Home, no.
My friends know what they’re getting into when theycome over. If they want to be here, they deal with the clutter. It’s not dirty, just messy.
But Covey is in his own category. He’s Covey. He used to be my best friend, now he’s my fake boyfriend and hopefully future friend.
