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MAYA

O n Sunday, having no plans, I slept late, lying in bed in a kind of surreal haze, reliving the most remarkable night of my life. Yet, there wasn’t complete joy like you’d expect after a date with the star quarterback.

No, something was missing. Yes, it had happened, the date, the kisses—-but it felt like a hollow victory.

Because it was all fake—it meant nothing.

Zero, zilch, just an act.

So, who was I fooling? No one but myself. That’s who.

Because by mid-afternoon, when I dragged myself to the kitchen, my stomach in a churn, there had been nothing from Oliver. Not a text or a message or a call, anything to acknowledge my existence. A hey or a hi, or thanks for the date, anything would have been nice.

Thinking a toasted bagel might fix my issue, I spread a thick layer of peanut butter, my favorite topping. Yet the bagel sat on the plate, unappealing, and I realized the ache wasn’t caused by hunger. When my phone pinged on the counter a minute later, I hurtled across the room like a girl on a mission only to see a message from Sammy. My heart sunk, even though seeing a photo of Sammy and her little sister Tessa in their backyard was cute. But I’d so hoped for Oliver to text me...

Sure, I knew the football team had a meeting with Coach, but that was unlikely to last all afternoon. And as evening fell and there was an excruciating silence on my phone, I was forced to reconsider the true meaning of fake dating. Pretending to be in a relationship. That’s what Oliver and I were doing. Playing pretend. He’d talked and opened up to me, but that didn’t mean anything. People did that on dates—they talked, and the kissing had been for practice, to add a touch of realism in the future, that's what he said. And though I might have been buzzing with joy and curling my toes from his heavenly kisses, he’d obviously taken it all in his stride, playing his role and nothing more. While I was here pining and yearning, he was likely back in football mode, strategizing the team’s rise to championship status.

I hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to Oliver’s outlandish plan of fake dating—the perks of kissing my long-time crush was a no-brainer. But what if I was falling...for real? Because now Oliver was more than just the cute boy next door and the star quarterback. He was sweet, he was silly, he was fun—and he was trapped in a life of expectations. Living out dreams for everyone else, his parents, his coach, his team, his school, his ex-girlfriend.

Monday was the slowest day in the history of mankind. With still no contact from Oliver, Sammy was quick to remind me that fake relationships were tenuous and unpredictable and came with no guarantees. Oliver would make contact if and when he needed me. No more, no less. Cutesy texts weren’t part of the deal.

She was right, but I moped anyway.

But that evening, I bounced back when he messaged me: Hey, missed you today. I can give you a ride home tomorrow.

Like I’d been resuscitated, I was once again full of life.

He missed me! Or did he mean he missed seeing me today, like I wasn’t around.

And offering to give me a ride home? That was because Savannah had returned to school, announcing it with her usual aesthetically pleasing social media posts, the most recent a pose in front of her racy red truck, sipping from a juice box. She’d be at cheer practice and Oliver would want her to see us together.

My stomach was in flutters all day. Though I wasn’t sure if it was because Oliver was taking me home or coming face to face with Savannah. Changing into my cheer outfit, I slathered body lotion on my legs and arms to keep them from drying out when we went outdoors, then I stood in front of the locker room mirror brushing my hair and styling it into a high ponytail.

Rose, who was retying her bun, poked my elbow. In the reflection, Savannah and Kelsie were approaching.

“Ewww,” Savannah said loudly, “what’s that?” She sniffed the air, her nose scrunching in disapproval. “Smells like old lady scent.”

Kelsie laughed. “Ick! Someone borrowed their grandma’s lotion.”

I lowered my head, discreetly inhaling my skin. It was a soft floral fragrance, hardly offensive to anyone. Though it had been a gift from my grandmother on my last birthday.

“Oh, hey, hi Rose,” Savannah said as if she’d just noticed us, “Hi Maya.”

“Hi Savannah,” Rose said. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks.” Savannah smile dissipated as her gaze flitted from Rose to me. Her stunning blue eyes roamed across my face like she was conducting an inspection.

“Yeah, welcome back,” I said, forcing my lips to curl up. “Uh, the squad missed you.”

I was genuine in my sentiment—as captain, Savannah inspired all of us—but her glossy lips glowered at me as she said, “You know, your hair would look better in a bun. The ends look a little dry .”

For a split second I was lost for words, my mouth gaping before I reached up to touch the ponytail I thought I’d tied to cheerleader perfection. “Oh.”

“Maybe use a concentrated bond builder,” she said, showing me all of her gleaming white teeth.

My throat tightened as I had no idea what a concentrated bond builder was. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

“It helps dull and damaged hair,” she said, tripling her volume so everyone in the locker room could hear, before breezing away, saying, “You’re welcome.”

My fingers worked quickly as I tore the scrunchie from my ponytail and gathered my hair into a tight bun, all the while sniffing my arms. No one had ever complained how I smelled and I’d worn that lotion all season.

My timing was a little off, or so Savannah pointed out on several occasions. Well, yes, I was rather distracted, self-conscious that my scent was possibly repulsing everyone and my hair was in lackluster condition. I now dreaded getting a ride with Oliver. What if he thought I smelled bad too?

Our session wrapped up with Savannah taking the stretches. My flexibility had never been questioned previously, but Savannah urged me to go deeper with my splits, even though I was lower than most of the girls.

“Okay, great work everyone,” she said finally. “See you all tomorrow.”

Before being dismissed, we huddled into our compliment circle, the usual way to end our training. Everyone had to give a quick compliment to the person next to them about their efforts. It was just a simple thing to end on a positive note: great leaps, awesome chant, full of enthusiasm, cool hair.

Today, I was between Harlow and Rose, but as we were about to start, Savannah barged in the middle of me and Rose. Meaning she would be complimenting me.

“Um, Savannah’s flexibility is amazing,” Rose said when it was her turn.

“Thank you,” Savannah said, before nudging me. My chest tightened as she hesitated, seeming to struggle to find something nice to say.

“Uh, um,” Savannah faltered, “um...I know...Maya has good taste in boys...”—she flashed a sarcastic smile at me—“she’s dating my ex.”

My lungs seized. Okay, granted we weren’t friends, but as fellow cheerleaders, we treated each other with respect, and that certainly wasn’t a compliment. Savannah had mocked me and now everyone was laughing at me.

I had to laugh too, pretend it was funny, that I was fine with it. And as Mrs. Foster had wandered away, there was nothing I could say.

“Harlow, your tumbling was awesome,” I squeaked out in haste, my face red hot and my chin trembling, wanting the circle to hurry up and finish. Already, Sammy’s words were reverberating in my head.

“What if Savannah doesn’t like the idea of Oliver dating you? What if she gets upset with you?”

Oh yes, it seemed my friend was 100% right. Savannah was obviously not happy that I was dating Oliver.

Feeling dazed and confused over this development, I didn’t register Oliver looming behind me after the circle broke up.

“Hey, Maya!” Only when he called my name did I stop, looking over my shoulder to see him thundering toward me like a bull on a rampage. “I was calling for you to wait up.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” I said.

He grabbed my hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His brow furrowed as he leaned down, bringing his forehead close to mine.

“Nothing. I just didn’t hear you.” I manifested brightness, frantically trying to slow my breathing which was fast and furious. It was silly to be affected by Savannah, especially when the whole arrangement with Oliver was fake. And yet, her words hit hard. I mean, according to her I smelled like an old lady and my hair was a mess. And was her so-called compliment an attempt to make me look stupid or just plain nastiness?

Oliver squeezed my hand and a calm descended over me, surrendering to his gentle touch—but only for a second as I remembered I supposedly stunk.

“How was training?”

“Good,” I said, not a lie. The training part had been fun, adapting chants for the semifinal and learning a new stunt in anticipation of victory. “How about you?”

“Awesome,” Oliver said, leading me by the hand, a gesture that should’ve had me swooning, but I released from his grip, full of insecurity. Just in case the lotion was bad. But Oliver didn’t seem to mind, reclaiming my hand and leaning down to whisper, “Savannah’s over there, she’s watching us. Let’s go.”

Oliver’s breath against my ear sent an unexpected tingle up and down my spine, so much that I wondered if ears had other purposes than hearing and holding glasses on one’s face. Remembering our charade, I walked alongside him to the locker room, cocooned in a dreaminess that didn’t deserve to be fake. Reacting to Oliver’s touch required no acting whatsoever.

Oliver continued to hold my hand when we walked to the parking lot, even though Savannah was no longer around. I didn’t query it because it was the best feeling in the world, and if I was going to suffer through Savannah’s mean-girl jibes, I should at least get some perks. Like kissing practice, if Oliver thought it was required.

“Did you see Savannah’s face?” Oliver asked as he started the car. He was glancing around the remaining cars but Savannah’s truck was nowhere to be seen.

Shaking my head, I debated whether I should say anything about Savannah’s snarky comments, but Oliver carried on, “I think she’s getting the message.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded grimly. If Savannah was getting the message, my job would be done. I’d be obsolete and Oliver would end it. “Mmm,” I said. “Mission accomplished, I guess?”

Oliver turned out of the school gates, his attention on the road for several blocks before he lowered the volume of the radio. “Actually, I think we should keep this going for a bit longer.” He gestured his hand between us. “Would you mind?”

I frowned, though my heart beat had risen rapidly and I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. “Keep this going?” I parroted.

“Sav will hold out hope that we’ll get back together if we...”—he waved his hand again to indicate that ‘ we’ meant me and him—“...break up too soon. Would you be okay with it?”

I could hardly hold my smile in. Oliver wanted to prolong this fake relationship! “I’m in,” I said, probably with too much exuberance. Toning it down, I added in a mumble, “You know, because you need me.”

Oliver’s face was serious, but his words sent my pulse racing. “I do,” he said. “I do need you.”

Oliver stopped his car outside his old house. At first I thought it was to get a good look at the place which the O’Connell’s had repainted since he’d lived there. But when he leaned across the console to kiss me, I wondered if it was so Mom and Dad wouldn’t be able to see us kissing. The adage of ‘practice makes perfect’ crossed my mind as our lips danced together. Oliver seemed to have time to devote more than just a fleeting peck, indicating that he was either a dedicated tutor or I was an inexperienced kisser. Whatever, I didn’t mind. He wanted to carry on with this and I was happy to oblige, even if Savannah was going to make it uncomfortable.

To avoid going over the details of training and my ride home with Oliver, I spouted on to Mom about all my homework and escaped to my room where I was on speed dial to Sammy.

“Savannah was mean to me at cheer, but Oliver wants to keep fake dating,” I gushed as soon as she appeared on the screen. “He doesn’t want to quit yet because he thinks Savannah will try to get back together.”

“Wait, what? ” Sammy screeched. “What do you mean, Savannah was mean to you?”

“She just said something embarrassing,” I said, glossing over her circle comment, “didn’t you hear me? Oliver wants to keeps dating!”

“I’m worried for you, Maya,” Sammy said.

“You don’t need to be,” I said, “You know, he’s such a good kisser.”

Bringing me down to earth with a thud, she asked, “Compared to who? Jayden in sixth grade?”

I wrinkled my nose and sneered. “Did you notice I said kisses? More than one?”

But Sammy didn’t sound impressed. “Didn’t I warn you about Savannah. You should be careful, Maya.”

“I think it’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “I’m sure it’s natural for her to be a bit upset, yeah?”

“You mean when her boyfriend started to date someone the very next week after they broke up?” Sammy stated with a sarcasm that stung. “Yeah, I kinda think that would be upsetting.”

“She flirted with a Lions player,” I defended Oliver’s action wholeheartedly. “And anyway, it’s fake dating.”

“So, is it fake kissing, then?” Sammy said.

I pouted and scowled, and Sammy’s voice softened, “I’m sorry, Maya, but you know I’m just looking out for you, watch your back, okay?”

“I will,” I said, knowing my best friend’s concern came from her heart. And yes, she was the grounded one while my head was up in the clouds. Sammy was practical, someone who would check the weather forecast before dressing in the morning, while I’d been known to melt in a sweater and jeans after being fooled by an early morning chill.

“See you tomorrow,” Sammy said. “And hey, don’t forget we’ve got an algebra test .”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said. “See ya.”

But I wasn’t concerned with study—no the only thing on my mind was whether Oliver’s kisses were fake.