“And have you—”
“I made it through chapter four.” I had tried to readPride and Prejudice. It was so boring. “An entire chapter about everyone’s feelings about a ball?” I curled my lip in distaste. “Not a fan.”
Brielle pushed me playfully. “Come on! It’s an entire chapter laying out the hierarchy of the prejudice of their financial status.”
“Whatever you just said,” I conceded.
“No, but really, if we do our paper on it then—”
“I can’t.” A sort of desperate fear ran through me, and I couldn’t control my reaction. Brielle stared at me. It shouldn’t surprise her—what I’d said—so maybe it was my reaction that made her look at me weird. “I’m not gonna get that book read by the end of the semester. Not with practice now. And, we can just write about us. Like we planned.”
Brielle looked around us to see if anyone was listening. She lowered her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t you feel a little guilty?”
“Guilty?” I tried to play it off as nonchalant.
“I haven’t told Dad about the writer’s interview.”
Oh. Yeah, I could see why she felt guilty.
“So I’d rather do our project on a fictional couple. I mean—it’d be more honest.”
“Just—” I tried to act cool, ‘cause really, she made sense. “Let’s get through this semester. School will be out. When we break up, it won’t even cause a scene.” Except I didn’t want to break up now. But that was beside the point.
“I wish—” Brielle bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest.
Dang it.
Tears.
The girl had the wateriest eyes I’d ever seen, and if I didn’t know Brielle, I’d think she was trying to manipulate me.
“What is it?” I touched her arm.
She shook her head, refusing to talk.
We stepped forward in line as we waited for our fries. Reece had gone off with some of the guys from the team, and so it was just us.
“Tell me. What’s up?”
Brielle’s chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “I just wish we hadn’t gotten so deep into this fake dating thing.”
I dropped my hand. I could tell she was getting close to wanting to be done with it all. To out us? Maybe not that far, but to break up? Yeah. And that would kill our project unless we could spin it differently—the ins and outs of failing teenagerelationships?
“Listen,” I tried again. “I get it. But, we’re in, so let’s finish it.”
“But I’mlyingto my dad.” A tear trailed down her cheek. She wiped it away with an irritated sweep of her hand.
That was it. That was the root issue of it all. Her dad. And I couldn’t blame her. I knew she was close to him. He might play hardball, but a person knew where they stood with Mr. Walters.
I had to think up something quick. Something to make her feel better. Better about us. Better about everything.
“Tell you what,” I offered. “Let’s finish the plan. Then, when it’s over, and we break up, then I’ll tell your dad everything. I’ll take the blame for it. I mean, I’m the one who went along with it in the first place, and I’m the one who needs this extra credit so I can keep my grades up.”
She was considering it. I could tell.
Please agree.
I realized my inner plea wasn’t just because of the extra credit. It was also because the idea of not being Brielle Walters’s boyfriend was not cool. I didn’t like it. Iwantedto keep pretending because, well—it might be the only chance I ever had at being with her.
