“Did I pass?”
I pretended to think. “Barely.”
“Ouch.”
I shrugged and ate another handful of popcorn. “He was mostly concerned that you’re not good enough for me—you know, since your brothers decided you weren’t good enough to be in their band and he trusts their judgement.”
Tino scowled again. “You know that’s a sensitive topic for me.”
It wasn’t—Tino knew he sounded like a screeching bird when he sang and he was happy to be the hockey player in the family. He’d insisted up and down that one day he would be just as famous as his brothers, just in sports instead of music.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing Luca doesn’t get to decide who I date.” I took a deep breath and glanced away as I added, “But I guess he doesn’t totally hate you because he invited us to come stay with them next weekend.”
I watched Tino out of the corner of my eye but that was enough to be able to see the surprise that crossed his face. “Like you and me? Together?”
“There’s some award show thing,” I said. I stole another handful of popcorn to keep my hands busy but didn’t eat it yet. “And he was just going to invite me but now that he thinks we’re dating, he invited you along too.”
“And you… want me to come?”
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about the idea of spending a whole weekend with Tino, away from school. It didn’t mean anything, of course. It was all just part of the ruse. But for some reason, it felt like a big deal. Tino and I had never seen each other outside of school, so the idea of bringing him to my brother’s house—where Luca lived with the other members of Take Five—made my heart pound. It made me feel like we were a real couple.
“I mean, if you want,” I said, because I couldn’t very well say no. “But I understand if you don’t want to! I know you’d have to get permission from your parents to leave the school for that long and you might have hockey stuff and?—”
“I’d love to come,” Tino interrupted. I was surprised by the genuine tone in his voice—he wasn’t giving in because he thought it would sell the fake dating image to the rest of the school or because he felt like I was pressuring (or if he was, he was hiding it really well).
I blinked. “You mean that?”
“It’ll be fun,” he said. He watched my face and faltered. “Won’t it?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah. Absolutely.”
The bus pulled up and we dropped the conversation as we got on board, but I still thought about it for the rest of the ride home—Tino and me going on what would look to everyone else like a romantic weekend away together.
CHAPTER 13
tino
Saturday had always beenmy favorite day of the week, but especially so at Hartwell. It always felt like the campus had been hit by a huge mute button—no alarms blaring, no coaches yelling, and most students not out of bed until afternoon.
Unfortunately, today I was rolling out of bed just before ten a.m., but the reason was well worth it.
Bear was still passed out when I rolled out of bed—the blanket half over his face, one arm hanging off the mattress, mumbling Poppy’s name in his sleep. I grinned to myself and tugged on the first hoodie I could find—our hockey team one from last year with everyone’s names signed on the back—and slipped on my shoes as I glanced out the window. It still hadn’t snowed yet, but it was clearly freezing. A few students trudged toward the dining hall, hoods up and breath fogging in the cold air.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and headed out that way too, trying to act as if this was how I normally spent my Saturday morning.
Sure, I could say it was because I was hungry, and if anyone asked, that was the exact reason I would give. But the truth of the matter was that I had enough food stashed in the room to lastme the whole weekend, and I hadn’t been down to breakfast on a Saturday in all my time at Hartwell except for family day.
Apparently there were only two things that could drag me from bed this early: my parents coming to visit and my fake girlfriend.
The fake relationship thing had only been official for, what, forty-eight hours? And already I couldn’t stop checking my phone, half-expecting her to text about another idea she had for selling the relationship. Last night, she’d forwarded me a photo somebody had snapped of us walking up the dorms with my arm around her and said it was a good move on my part, even though it felt like a headlock for her. She also grudgingly admitted that kissing her in the theater was a good idea, which I was happily taking as permission to keep kissing whenever I could.
As I expected, the cafeteria was only a quarter-full and not nearly as loud as it was during the week. I was immediately drawn in by the smell of waffles but I scanned the room as I walked in, sure that she must be here already. The beauty of my roommate dating Lilah’s roommate was that she was happy to pass on all the intel about Lilah that she could—including that she was always downstairs for breakfast before ten a.m. on the weekends and stayed there for a while unless they had plans for the day.
My eyes locked on her sitting by the windows, but for a second, I almost didn’t recognize her. I was so used to seeing Lilah either in her school uniform or dressed up to go into town, but this morning she couldn’t look any different. She was sitting cross-legged at a corner table, hoodie pulled over her head, glasses slipping down her nose, and a cup of coffee clasped in both hands like she was drawing warmth straight from it. Her hair was a little messy, and there was a crease from her pillow still pressed into her cheek.
And somehow, she’d never looked better.
I stopped long enough to get two mugs of coffee (adding a sickeningly large amount of sugar to the one) and a plate with as many waffles as I could pile on before crossing the room to join her. I slid into the seat across from her, pushing one of the mugs in her direction, happy to see that I’d guessed correctly about hers being almost empty.
