“Naturally.”
She huffed and put her fork down, then rested her arms on the table. “He doesn’t only spend time here, we see him by the gym a lot too. We saw him there for the first time after a basketball game so he’s obviously into basketball so I named him Troy.”
“Why not Air Bud?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well, he’s not adog.”
“He’s not a human either!”
“You are completely ignoring his musical talent.”
I stared at her in bewilderment. “What musical talent?”
“He likes to sing. He’s very good at it too.”
I just stared at her, not sure if she was being genuine or if she was pulling my leg. I didn’t want to make fun of the idea of the groundhog singing if she genuinely thought he did, but I was also about ninety percent sure that groundhogs didn’t make any sound even remotely similar to singing.
I guess I would never find out the truth because before I could think of a polite way to ask, I noticed some sophomores by the cereal station that were not-so-subtly staring our way. I could see the exact moment that Lilah noticed it too, the way her spine became ramrod straight and she started fidgeting with her mug nervously.
When I first suggested this plan, I was sure that Lilah would be all-in for it. Not that she had any interest in being an actress,but she loved chaos and I figured she would find it hilarious to see how easy it was to trick the whole student population into thinking we were dating. But this week, she’d consistently surprised me with how much she didn’t enjoy the attention of other students.
So I did the only thing that I thought could distract her: I flirted.
I leaned across the table and rested my hand lightly over hers. “Relax,” I murmured.
Her eyes flicked to me and she stayed tense for a moment before exhaling slowly. Then, after a second, she relaxed fully, letting her fingers stay under mine. “You really commit to a bit, don’t you?”
“It’s method acting.”
“Dangerous habit.”
“Only if the role feels too real,” I said before I could stop myself.
She went still for half a second then rolled her eyes, but I caught the faintest hint of pink at the tops of her cheeks. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Big word for someone who hasn’t finished her coffee.”
“Big ego for someone who’s about to lose his waffle privileges.”
“I’m not sure these even qualify as waffles anymore. They’re just solidified syrup in the shape of a waffle.”
“Fine.” She pulled her hand out of mine then yanked the plate toward her so I couldn’t reach them anymore. “Don’t have any more.”
She went back to eating, pretending not to smile, and I sat there pretending not to notice how hard my heart was pounding. When was the last time I had a meal alone with Lilah? Had it ever happened? If I’d known all it would take was a fakerelationship, maybe I would have found a way to suggest this earlier.
Then again, maybe this whole fake dating thing was a terrible idea.
It was fantastic for now—I’d already gotten to kiss her three times, I got to hold her hands and put my arm around her and talk about dates that were actually happening instead of asking her out every day. I got to spend time alone with her, to see her laugh at my jokes, to feel what it would be like to experience a relationship with her.
But she was still using this to prove that we were incompatible.
She looked up again, catching me staring for what was definitely not the first time that morning. “What now?” she asked in an exasperated tone.
I shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinking that you should wear that hoodie more often.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because it makes you look…” I stopped myself, searching for a word that didn’t sound like a confession. “…normal. In a good way.”
