She swept over, draped her arm around my waist, chimed, “Smile!” and snapped some photos. I probably looked stunned in the first few. I was concentrating on her—her instantly bright and happy expression—instead of thinking about my own. I was noticing the smell of her hair again. After a moment, I managed a smile.
She stepped away from me and examined the pictures. “The last one will do. I’ll send you a copy.” While she did that, she added, “What was your idea for leveling up?”
How did I segue into that ask? I should’ve rehearsed something beforehand. I rubbed my jaw while I gathered my words. “You know how you kiss guys onstage for your plays?”
Her eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. Had she already guessed what I was asking and was that opposed to it?
She folded her arms and blew out a breath, pure attitude. “If you’re about to turn into Needy Drama Guy and demand I send you DoorDash, I’m putting my foot down. I draw the line at making cookies for ignored texts.”
Oh. She hadn’t guessed what I was about to suggest. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” I lifted my hands as though I would find the needed words hovering in the air. “I know theperfect way to convince our parents our relationship is real.” Now that she was looking at me expectantly, I found it hard to say anything else. Did I really want to go from the friend zone to the creeper zone? And maybe I wasn’t even in the friend zone with Madeline. Maybe I was just in the forced ally zone.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “What is your brilliant mastermind plan?”
“We let them catch us kissing.”
She blinked at me. I couldn’t tell whether she was horrified or just considering the idea. “How do we do that?” she asked.
“Next Friday, our grounding is over, and our parents think that after the game, we’ll go out on our first date.”
“Right. We’re not going to McDonald’s, by the way. Not even in our fake plans.”
I ignored her interruption. “Let’s actually get something to eat and go to your house. When your father returns from his date with my mom, he’ll walk in and find us kissing.”
Madeline looked straight at me, no hint of shock or of approval. “I don’t know if you could convincingly pull that off.”
“Why not?”
“When I thanked you for the flowers, you couldn’t even manage a believable hug, and newsflash, when you hold a girl’s hand, you’re not supposed to crush her fingers.” She looked upward and blew out a puff of air. “Although maybe those are just problems you have with me. You seemed to be holding Dahlia’s hand just fine.”
“She heldmyhand, and it lasted for about three seconds.”
Madeline’s eyes returned to me. “So you’re saying you’re bad at affection all around?”
I sent her a long gaze. “I know how to kiss a girl. I’ll do such a good job, you’ll forget this is all fake.”
“Really?” she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. “Give me a hug right now.”
Now? Nothing is more awkward than hugging a girl who is looking at you judgmentally, lips pursed, like you’ve already failed at the task.
I stepped close to her and paused. She raised a triumphant eyebrow at my hesitancy.
“Could you be a little less prickly?” I asked. “Give me something to work with.”
As though she could turn on affection like a switch, her expression immediately became inviting. She draped her arms over my shoulders, fixed me with an unblinking gaze, and murmured, “Is this better?”
Yeah. A lot better. I pulled her the rest of the way into an embrace, wrapping my arms around her back. The hug simultaneously felt uncertain, forbidden, and a little enticing. She relaxed against me, all gentle warmth. Her head rested on my chest, bringing the scent of her hair closer to me.
Would she think it was weird if I sniffed her hair? I was deciding that yes, she probably would, when she stepped away from me with a sigh. “See, this is what I mean. There was no emotion in that embrace.”
There had been more emotion than I’d expected, but I wasn’t about to admit that her performance had affected me that way.
“I think the idea is a good one,” she said, businesslike again. “But if we’re going to pull it off, you need practice. Maybe Claire could give you some pointers on acting and—”
“No,” I cut her off. “I am absolutely not going to practice hugging my sister or ask her for kissing pointers.”
Madeline waved away my protest with a flick of her hand. “I meant you could get acting tips in general.”
“Still not happening.”
