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Before I could think about it, I leaned in and went to pat him on the back, but somehow that pat on the back turned into a half hug, but he turned just as I was squeezing him to make it into a full hug. My mind blanked for a moment as he held me close, the heat of his body as cozy as a fireplace on a cold day, and then I was right back there at the festival, the smell of hot chocolate on his breath, his lips so close to mine…

I pulled away, cheeks hot. He looked down at me for a second with what might have been concern, but Dan slapped him on the back and pulled him away to demonstrate how they’d reacted to the falling of the tower for Kylie, who must have missed it. That gave me the opportunity to back away and rejoin Freya, who was also looking at me with something like concern. “I just want to make sure you know it’s okay,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“If there’s something there,” she said, waving her hand vaguely in the air, but I knew exactly what she meant. If there was something there between Seth and me. Something more than a fake relationship.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell her that she had nothing to worry about, but the words stalled in my throat. Because I hadn’t totally imagined what had happened between us at the festival, had I? Not that look in his eye, not how close he was leaning toward me, and definitely not how much I wanted him to lean all the way in.

Oh. This was very, very dangerous. I couldn’t have feelings for someone like Seth. He’d crack me right open and throw away the key.

Besides, I’d learned that being in a relationship with me was too hard. He’d learn that, too, after a little while, and we’d have a terrible breakup like Connor and me, and I’d lose my friend. My friend who I cared about.

And maybe wanted to kiss.

I took a deep, shaky breath. “I think our Hanukkah house turned out really nice. If I was a gingerbread man, I’d totally live there.”

She eyed me for an extra moment before responding. “Sure. I would, too.”

And so I busied myself for the rest of the night with creating a tiny gingerbread friend with a kippah and tzitzit, spending all my effort working on something that would go poof when the night was over.

Not that that was a metaphor for anything in my real life.

17

I had to put those thoughts about Seth and me out of my head. I couldn’t be a good friend, or especially not a good fake girlfriend, with them rolling around in there. So I lay in bed that night with my eyes shut tight and took deep breaths, telling myself over and over that this wouldn’t be a big deal, that I only had to get through three more nights.

It was very hard to fall asleep.

I woke up after Seth did, meaning I was confronted by his neat pile of blankets and pillow on the floor. Rubbing my eyes, I scrolled through my phone for a bit, answering some emails I’d gotten about the café and the festival, then made a quick stop in the bathroom before padding out to the main space.

Right into the middle of an argument. I was glad I’d taken some time to myself before wading in. Seth was saying, “We really haven’t gotten any downtime yet. I was thinking we’d take the day easy, just Abby and me, maybe enter the lotteries for some Broadway shows or head out to Queens for some good Thai—”

“You two get plenty of time just the two of you back home,” Bev was saying in response, talking over her son. “You came to New York for family time. Besides, you’ll be able to do the event together.”

Seth’s shoulders were already starting to sag. He might have been able to stand up to his friends, but his mom?

And then he saw me, and something in his eyes flashed, like he was remembering our conversation. He stood up taller. “You should’ve asked us first,” he told Bev.

If I thought Seth’s eyes flashed, Bev’s eyes burst into flame. Not literally. But I was afraid to get too close to her in case they caught on my hair. “I didn’t think I needed to—”

“What’s going on?” I asked hastily, hoping to defuse some of this tension. Benjamin, who I realized just now was seated at the kitchen table, looked vaguely disappointed. Maybe that I hadn’t brought him any popcorn for the show. Plain, non-buttered popcorn, of course.

Seth and Bev both turned to me, opened their mouths, and unleashed a torrent of words at once. I caught maybe every other one. Today. Synagogue. Family. Chill. Tired. Cooking.

I held up a hand. “Sorry, what?”

Seth looked vaguely thrilled, Bev vaguely surprised: maybe that I’d dared interrupt her. Well, it was her own fault. She said, before Seth could speak again, “Every year we take part in a Hanukkah cookie decorating clinic at the synagogue. A bunch of people from around the city from all different synagogues come and participate. There are prizes and things. It’s a lot of fun, so I of course signed us up again this year.”

“And I said you should have asked us first,” Seth said. “Maybe we already have plans.” He gave me a questioning look. It was up to me, I guessed.

Honestly, last night had proved there were worse ways to spend a few hours than decorating cookies. And wasn’t it my job to make a good impression on Bev? So what if, when she gave me that look of approval, my insides went all warm like my teacher had just given me a gold star?

Still, I didn’t want to force Seth into something if he didn’t want to do it. A Good Fake Girlfriend wouldn’t throw her Fake Boyfriend to the wolves. So I just raised an eyebrow and cocked my head a little bit, doing my best to communicate all of that.

I expected very little. I’d never been called expressive, unless resting bitch face counts as an expression. But somehow Seth seemed to understand it. He gave me a small nod, then turned back to Bev. “Okay, fine. We’ll do it.”

“Wonderful. It’ll be so much fun.”