Page 68 of Fall Fake-Out

“Ah. I get it. That’s kind of a side thing too?”

“Right.”

“Well, if Landrie’s wedding cake looks half as good as those cream puffs look, then I think we’re in the right hands.”

“Ari?” My mom waves me over. “Let’s keep moving. We’ve got more errands to run before we head home. This wedding is our top priority.”

“See you later, Sadie.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll see you Friday night.” She must see the confusion on my face because she adds, “At the mayor’s fiftieth birthday party. Wade said you were coming with him.”

I feel my mom leaning in to listen to our conversation.

“Of course. The mayor’s fiftieth birthday party,” I lie. “How could I forget?”

I don’t like plans being made for me without my approval. Wade will definitely hear about this tomorrow at school.

But as I walk out of Keller’s Bakehouse, I’m surprised by how much I enjoyed bumping into people I know—going to a local business and knowing the people there. That never happened in Florida. And maybe I missed it a little bit. But I’m not giving Wade the satisfaction of telling him that.

Ari

The first thing I notice the next morning is that somebody stole all my good Expo markers again.

Not the dried-out black ones shoved in the back of my desk drawer. No, somebody specifically targeted the colorful ones I use for lesson headers and inspirational quotes. Which means, somewhere in this school, there’s a criminal walking around with my teal marker, and honestly, I hope it leaks in their pocket. That’s how passionate I am about my whiteboard Expo markers.

I shake the black marker in my hand aggressively before uncapping it and writing across the whiteboard:

THE GREAT GATSBY CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY DUE MONDAY

The classroom is still quiet, sunlight barely filtering through the tall windows overlooking the faculty parking lot. Students haven’t arrived yet, which means I still have a few precious minutes of peace before teenagers begin asking me questions like whether Gatsby is “low-key toxic.”

Which he is.

The door behind me creaks open. I glance over my shoulder to find Wade leaning against the metal frame in black slacks with a collared golf shirt. He looks good in business casual. Like the kind of guy corporate women in pencil skirts would have affairs with during office conferences.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” I cap the marker harder than necessary. “You’re dressed up today.”

“District meetings.” His lips curve upward slowly, eyes dragging over me in a way that feels entirely too awake for this hour of the morning. “You must like it, though.”

“I don’t care what you wear.” I walk to my desk, trying to pull off indifference even though I’ve daydreamed a time or two about all the different versions of Wade and which one I like best. Right now, I’m stuck in Wade’s Carhartt era from last week’s football game, but business casual is definitely giving it a run for its money.

I can feel him watching me as I take a seat at my desk. He pushes off the doorframe and walks to me. The scent of his cologne comes with him—clean and fresh and annoyingly masculine.

“I saw your sister yesterday,” I say, keeping things on topic.

“Sadie?”

“Do you have more than one sister?”

“I have a sister-in-law.”

“No, your actual sister.”

“What’s she up to?”

“I don’t know. We were just out running errands for Landrie’s wedding.”