Page 13 of Your Kiss Is On My List

“Anyone else arrive? Sounds like a crowd in there,” I manage.

“Come on in and meet Dooley. One of the best at SPU. An institution.” He holds the door for me and as I walk past him my shoulder brushes against his chest, the hard muscles making my stomach jitter around, driving a shot of encouragement to my sensitive girl parts. And his scent—mother forgive me if I swoon right now against all codes of poise and grace under stress.

Trey Eagleton brings his own universe of stress and not the kind I’m prepared for.

He follows me inside and puts a hand on my lower back and I actually stumble into the kitchen like a klutz. So much for a graceful entrance or a good first impression.

“Dools, this is Danielle Innocent, my next-door—”

“Girlfriend.” I interrupt, shoving my hand at Dools for a shake and lean into Trey. He stiffens. “The girl-next-door kind of girlfriend,” I add. It’s pathetic, but I need to own my pretense, run with it all the way even if I end up running off the edge of a cliff. A bubble of nerves rise up at the possibility that he won’t go along.

“As advertised,” Dools says, “you’re a true beauty. I hear you’re interested in broadcasting.” That perks me up and I flash a glance at Trey. He smirks at me.

“Dools works for a local production company and in addition to his drama undergrad degree and his MFA at SPU, he’s working on a PhD in—what’s it in?” Trey asks Dools, who hasn’t stopped grinning and darting his eyes back and forth between me and Trey. It’s like he’s holding in a big funny secret. Shit. I hope it’s not my secret, that Trey and I are more like sister-brother than girlfriend-boyfriend.

“In broadcast and film directing and production. I’m a teaching assistant and instructor for a broadcasting course—maybe you’re taking it—Creative Producing 201 about producing nonfiction TV programming. I’ll bet you’re a natural in front of the camera, but it always helps to learn about the other side of the screen.”

“You’re right—and I am in your class. What are the chances?” My enthusiasm bubbles up and I see no reason to squash it as I step forward to give Dools a big hug hello. I feel Trey’s arm on my shoulder holding me back, but I push forward and wrap Dools in my arms. He’s a smallish man, especially compared to Trey, and he seems to shrink inside my hug into a tense ball. Whoops. I let him go in an instant and step back.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you,” he says, still grinning, but I don’t miss the slight tension. He’s uncomfortable with PDAs but he doesn’t want to talk about it, clearly.

“That’s me,” I say, putting an arm around Trey to prove it. No hardship there and this time Trey is ready for it, slipping his arm around me in return.

“Dools likes girls, but not that much,” he says. I nod. Dools darts a glance at Trey and purses his lips and the discomfort ratchets up in the kitchen until a massive gray-haired woman in a white apron ambles into the room to stand in the middle of our group, commanding everyone’s attention.

“You’re late if you’re looking for food,” she says to me. I shake my head and she nods then moves into the pantry and disappears.

“In the meantime,” Dooley says, “I’ll get you an audition for an on-air spot at the campus station.”

“You will? I thought I’d need to pay my dues this semester as a production assistant and I was happy to get that job.” He waves his hands in dismissal.

“You should go for a sportscaster job,” Emily says. “We could use a friendly face.”

“She’s right,” Trey says.

“Sold—if they have an opening. That would be fun.” I look at Dooley to gauge how likely that ambition is.

“It’s a possibility,” he says and I see the machinations of his mind in the window of his giant eyes. He’s an odd and energetic guy, open and closed at the same time. He’ll say anything to open you up like a can of peas, expose your innermost guts and then at the same time, he’s all buttoned up under layers of intrigue, making me want to see what’s inside. But I respect privacy, so I wouldn’t dream of pushing him out of his comfort zone—the accidental breach of unwanted affection aside.

“Are you going to the hockey game Thursday night?” I say to Dooley.

“Do bears shit in the woods? As long as the big guy gets me tickets.”

“When don’t I get you tickets?” Trey says. “I’ll leave them at the will-call window—for you and Dani.” He flashes a smile at Emily and Heather and I get a momentary stab of jealousy. “I’ll leave tickets for you two also. And then I’m out.”

Bane is sitting at the table, silent and watching until now.

“Thanks, bro. Now I’ll have to buy my own,” he says.

“You can sit on my lap,” Emily says and I wrap an arm around her shoulder. She’s even taller than me.

“You mean you can sit on his lap, don’t you?” I say. We’re standing in front of Bane and his grin is a mile wide. I don’t think he’s used to this much attention and I wonder why, but only for a second because then I realize he’s insecure.

“No worries, I have plenty of room for both of you on my lap, ladies.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Trey says, coming between me and Bane and pushing back, snaking an arm around my waist as if he has a right, as if we really are a couple. My head spins into that confusion where I’m not sure if it’s real or pretend and that’s stupid and ridiculous because of course it’s all pretend. It was my grossly ill-thought out idea to pretend he’s my boyfriend, wasn’t it?

But my wishful thinking gene is gigantic and I can’t help sliding over the line between pretend and reality. They say fake it till you make it all the time because it works, right?