Page 91 of The Fake Out

He smiled. “Yes. They suit you.”

Did my heart forget to beat for a half-second when he said that? Yes, yes, it did. Did I pretend it didn’t? Also, yes.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said.

“There’s that sunny disposition I know and love.”

“Charles would like Mae to stand in front of Chris,” Louisa said with lot of exaggerated hand gestures in case we were slow on the uptake. “Good. Yes. Now put your hand around her waist and rest it on her stomach. Excellent. And now, Mae, turn your head and look up at Chris. No. No. No smiles. Be very serious. Better.”

“Woohoo,” Betsy called from the patio where all three sisters watched. “You two look hot.”

“Go away,” Chris yelled back.

“No, thanks!”

And it went on. More and more positions which probably looked great in the photos but made me feel like a human pretzel. There was one where we had to sit on the ground and wrap ourselves around each other. It was complicated and strangely clinical. Like putting together IKEA furniture but with hand positions and head tilts.

An occasional catcall or round of applause burst from the patio. One of the sisters got paper and markers and they all began to rate our poses from one to ten like we were Olympic competitors.

Betsy acted as announcer. “The newly engaged couple have been asked to do the Sit-Squat pose. It looks simple, but has a high level of difficulty. The judges will be looking closely at form. Let’s watch.”

“Stop it. I have to be serious,” I yelled. “Charles said so.”

Betsy ignored me. “And let’s see the judges’ scores.”

“I give them a nine,” Aggie said.

Millie held up a 6.5.

“Ouch,” Betsy the Announcer said. “There’s always a judge from East Germany and she has spoken. Let’s see what the Sterns-Sampson team do next.”

“Charles is almost done, but he would like to do some photos of the couple kissing,” Louisa announced.

“What?” I turned around so fast my dress got twisted in my legs, and I was about five seconds from a Grade A faceplant on the Sterns’ lawn when an arm grabbed me around the waist and caught me.

“Whoa,” Chris whispered. “Watch out, or someone will think you don’t want to kiss me.”

“I don’t,” I insisted, righting myself.

His eyes narrowed. “I guess you’ll have to suck it up.”

Louisa showed us the spot Charles wanted us to stand in. “Now, turn to each other and hold hands.”

Our fingers entwined; our eyes met. That’s when every single thought I had about staying objective flew out of my head. Because it was a powerful, heady feeling to stand like this. Although we stood several inches apart, I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. I stared at his neck, studied the edge of his jaw, and his bottom lip which looked soft and full.

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

“Get closer.” Louisa stomped up to us, put a hand on each of our backs and shoved. The inches between us disappeared. “Better. Now put your forehead to her forehead. No, don’t pay any attention to Charles. He’ll be walking around you while he’s taking photos. Perfect. Don’t move.”

“This might be worse than that mattress last night,” Chris whispered.

“No talking!” Louisa said. “Look deeply into each other’s eyes. More. More. Look deeper, dammit.”

“Yeah, look deeper,” I said, holding back a laugh.

“Do you think she had a career in the military before this? Maybe drill sergeant?” Chris said.

In my periphery, I could see a black shape slowly walking around us.