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MAYA

L imping along on crutches, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw Oliver striding down the hallway because there could be no way he’d be at the hospital after such a momentous victory. Unless he was injured. But at the pace he was moving, it didn’t appear he was.

Dad’s frequent commentary texts had kept me in the loop when Mom insisted on bringing me to the hospital. Mrs. Foster’s instructions had been clear before the game—no pyramids, no basket tosses, no tumbling maneuvers because of the slippery field. The rain, though not drenching, was incessant and annoying, especially for our hair and makeup.

Bowen’s cheers were loud, and I mean loud. They had their supporters chanting and on their feet. That’s the only reason I can think that Savannah called us to do the pyramid.

“Shall we do it? Let’s do it,” she said and no one dared say we shouldn’t. We moved into formation quickly, a stunt we’d done over and over—but not in wet weather.

All was going well. As the flyer, I was standing firmly, performing my arabesque, but Emily, one of my bases, slipped and I went down with her, my ankle buckling beneath me when I landed. We both jumped up in a flash, but pain seared through my right foot and I couldn’t put any weight on it. I had to wait till the end of the chant before I could hobble away. Savannah’s glare was icy enough to start another ice age, Emily was in tears, shaken though uninjured, and Mrs. Foster reappeared with an umbrella.

The walk to the locker room seemed like a marathon, my ankle ballooning with every step. When Mom arrived, she examined my elevated foot wrapped in an ice pack, and without hesitation said we were going to the emergency room. There was no option; it might be broken. Yes, I would miss the end of the game but I could watch a replay later. Dad assisted me to the car, but Mom told him to stay; there was no need for all of us to wait.

Hence the updates from Dad, but it was still bittersweet when the Owls stole a 14-7 victory in the fourth quarter because I’d missed Oliver’s biggest sporting moment. Knowing the team would be celebrating, my heart flipped when Oliver’s text came through and the pain seemed to ease after that. It was a relief to be informed that there was no fracture, just a grade 2 sprain. I was taken to a room for strapping. I’d have to keep the weight off of the foot, ice and elevate for the next 48 hours—not a fun way to spend my weekend.

But somehow Oliver was here in the hospital, going above and beyond the fake boyfriend duty, showing true concern. He should’ve been with the team, unless he was putting in an extra effort for Savannah’s sake. If she knew that he had come to see me, it would seem more convincing that we were in a relationship.

Whatever, I was beyond amazed and when he kissed me while my mother waited in the car, I could only applaud his dedication to the role. I mean, I’m not sure why he kissed me as it wasn’t Mom we were putting on an act for.

“Oh,” she said, when Oliver closed my door. “He was really worried about you.”

“Yeah.” For some reason, I couldn’t stop smiling. Even though my ankle throbbed and I was going to be immobile for days and miss cheering the final, I was deliriously happy. “I thought he might’ve been injured since he’d come to the hospital.”

“It was thoughtful of him to check on you,” Mom said with a smug smile.

“He’ll be celebrating with the team now,” I said, trying to downplay it, hard when my whole body was buzzing with an electric energy.

Mom set me up on the couch, pillows under my foot, waiting on me hand and foot. That part was okay, but it was excruciating to follow the Cheer Chat and see the celebrations happening without me. I sent a photo of my leg and all the girls wished me a speedy recovery. Even Savannah reacted with a ‘care’ emoji. Unfortunately, the only thing I could do was wallow in self-pity and munch on the bowl of buttered popcorn that Mom had provided.

Dad arrived home with a full and detailed report of the game, and up in my room, I video called Sammy, who’d been surprised that Oliver had shown up at the hospital.

“That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” Sammy asked.

“I’m guessing he did it to let Savannah know,” I said. “You know, be the supportive boyfriend.”

“I didn’t even see you fall,” Sammy said. “We had no idea.”

“Thank goodness,” I said. “It happened in just a split second. Poor Emily. She was really upset.”

“I bet,” Sammy said. “But why do those stunts when it’s raining?”

“Bowen were crushing it. Savannah said we needed to up our game.”

“Savannah?”

“Yeah. Coach had said not to.”

“Savannah knows you’re a flyer.” Sammy took a thoughtful pause. “And she knew it could be potentially dangerous...”

“What?” I frowned at her insinuation. “You think she wanted me to fall?”

“She put you in danger!” Sammy shrieked.

“It was an accident,” I said. “She couldn’t have known that Emily would slip.”

“No, but she put you in the position to fall,” Sammy retorted.

“Harlow and Jessa were in the same position,” I said in fierce defense of Savannah. As cheer captain, I couldn’t believe that she would want any of her girls hurt.

“I think your loyalty is misguided,” Sammy muttered. “Remember, I told you to watch your back.”

“Well, I’m going to be fine,” I said sulkily, refusing to believe there was any truth in Sammy’s accusations. The cheer squad was like a sisterhood; we all looked out for one another. Telling Sammy I was tired, we said goodnight, but my stomach was in a knot. Because I hadn’t told her how Savannah had glared and hissed at me after I’d fallen, like I’d embarrassed the squad and let everyone down.

I had a restless night, not only from the pain but the seed of doubt that Sammy had planted in my mind. Yes, I conceded that quite possibly Savannah was peeved that I was dating Oliver, but surely not to the extent she’d want me injured. Their breakup had nothing to do with me, I hadn’t caused it, so I shouldn’t be the one she was angry with.

I woke up the next morning to find a clear but crisp day. Typical. The weather had been a bust yesterday, but today was a glorious fall day and I’d be stuck inside. My agenda looked to be movies, movies and more movies with a copious amount of popcorn. Dad had to work and Mom retreated to the spare room/office to do marking. And Sammy said she’d be over after her shift at the grocery store.

I must have dozed because the next thing I knew, Mom was calling my name and tapping me. “Maya? Maya, darling, you have a visitor.” She leaned closer and whispered. “Oliver’s here.”

At the mention of his name, I was instantly awake, pulling myself up from my slouched position. I rubbed my eyes and could only pray that my hair didn’t resemble a bird’s nest.

“Come in,” Mom was saying as I pushed aside the blanket and Mom moved the ottoman in position so I could elevate my foot.

“Hi Maya,” Oliver said, stepping forward.

I drew in an audible gasp to see Oliver with a bunch of flowers and a gift bag in his hand. Surely this was over the top. A simple card would have been sufficient, but even that was unnecessary.

“Oliver, you didn’t need to bring me anything,” I said.

“I wanted to,” Oliver said, moving the pillow my foot had been on and taking a seat at the end of the couch. I took the bunch and sniffed at them, but in such a fluster, I couldn’t tell if they were scented.

“Thanks, they’re gorgeous.” I didn’t want to tell him, but they were the first flowers I’d ever been given. “I love them.”

“You’re welcome,” Oliver said, handing me the silver gift bag, “And this is for you too.”

“A gift? Aww.” I smiled, feeling a little guilty. Fake dating didn’t require real gifts. “You shouldn’t have.”

I opened the bag and peered in. I pulled out a small plastic container and opened it. Nestled in a kitchen paper towel were four small truffle-like balls. They looked home-made. And that’s when it clicked.

“You made these? These are your protein balls?”

“Yep,” Oliver said, lowering his eyes shyly and pointing in the container. “The white ones are coconut and almond and those are peanut butter and chia seed. Your favorite flavors.”

“Oh, wow!” I was touched he’d remembered.

“Try one,” he said, and I delicately picked up the peanut butter one and popped the whole thing in my mouth. The flavors swirled around my tastebuds, tantalizing my tongue. “There’s seven grams of protein in each one. I eat them after training for a recovery snack, but who knows, maybe they can help with your recovery.”

“They are seriously good,” I said, licking my lips together.

“There’s more,” Oliver said, pointing to the gift bag.

A smile swallowed my whole face as I brought out a Mason jar filled with M&Ms. The candy had been layered so that at the bottom there was an orange layer, then a green one, followed by the other colors, with brown on top.

“It’s in order from worst to best,” Oliver said, “so you get to eat your favorites last.”

Staggered that he’d remembered the order in which I’d ranked the different colors on our first date, I could only gasp and said, “Well, I don’t like to call any M&M the worst, more like least preferred.”

“You’re right. There’s no bad M&M.”

I held the jar up, in complete awe. “How many bags did you have to buy to do this?”

“Never you mind,” Oliver said, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “Let’s just say I had to eat quite a few blue ones to make things even.”

I giggled. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I said. And then I bit down on my lower lip because that sounded...too real.

And none of this was real. Well, not for him.

“Hey, do you want a drink? A juice or soda?” I asked quickly, heat rising up my neck. “But you’ll have to get it yourself, sorry.” I pointed apologetically to my foot.

“Sure,” Oliver said, standing up. “Can I get you something too?”

“Yeah, juice would be good. Thanks.” I wasn’t thirsty but I needed a moment to absorb Oliver’s gesture.

The open plan layout of our kitchen, dining and living rooms meant I could call out directions to where the glasses were kept and I could hear the opening of the fridge and the banging of cupboard doors. Meantime, feeling like an undercover agent, I took snaps of Oliver’s candy jar and sent it to my friends. Sammy would be working but Paige and Evie immediately replied with a range of emojis from shocked and wide-eyed to heart eyes. My cheeks had cooled down by the time Oliver returned with two glasses of orange juice and I’d opened the jar of candy, though it felt criminal to spoil it.

He sat down, not at the end of the couch, but closer, right next to me. I gulped as he handed me the glass, our fingers brushing together. As he leaned back, his elbow touched mine, not accidentally but like he was nestling next to me, acting like my boyfriend. And yet there was no one to witness it. Mom had gone back to her desk and Dad still wasn’t home.

“How did the party go?” I asked, taking a small sip of juice.

“It was good, but I didn’t stay late,” Oliver said, taking my glass and setting it down on the coffee table.

“Why not?”

“I was pretty beat after the game. I got hit pretty decent a few times.”

I immediately sat straighter, full of concern “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’ll survive.” And with a grin and a nudge, “I came out better than you did.”

I gaped, slowing nodding as I said, “Uh huh, you’re rubbing it in, aren’t you?” I tried to suppress my giggle and project utter exasperation. “You played a full game and you’re fine, and I had one stupid fall and I’m a mess.” I pulled the blanket off of my extended leg to reveal the ice pack on my foot. “ And I’m going to miss the final.”

Oliver’s smile was apologetic and adorable at the same time and I wanted to grab his cheeks and kiss that smirking face of his. Oh boy, I really did. I wanted to run my hands through his hair and taste his lips and tell him how amazing he was—for real.

But I didn’t because I remembered he was my fake boyfriend.

My heart thumped hard and fast in my chest, paralyzing me for a second. For a moment I was lost in my own insanity, and then Oliver’s fingers grazed my chin, a whisper of a touch that triggered every nerve ending in my body, bringing me to my senses while making me senseless.

“You’ll be there,” he said in a soft voice, his breath a feather across my cheeks. “I need you there. You’re my good luck charm, Maya.” His lips pressed against mine lightly, nothing more than a tease.

“I am?” I was reduced to a quivering, trembling wreck, my ankle pain forgotten, my role of fake girlfriend also forgotten as I leaned into Oliver, defying him to end the kiss.

Oliver needed no further encouragement. In a split second, his arm was around me and we were holding one another, Rose and Jack on the bow of the Titanic (yes, I’d rewatched that movie earlier that morning.) I was firmly seated on our beige colored couch with my leg up on the ottoman, but I was flying!

I was flying, dreaming, in heaven.

The rattle of the front door brought me back to earth, Oliver too if the speed in which his arms and his lips abandoned me was anything to go by. The heavy footsteps could only belong to Dad and when he appeared in the living room, Oliver and I were sitting ramrod straight as if we were practicing a yoga pose.

“Oh! Hello Oliver!” Dad chirped. “I wondered whose car that was out the front. Great game last night.”

“Thanks, Mr. Shelton.” Oliver rose to his feet and Dad shook his hand heartily before putting a hand on his shoulder, like he wanted to give him a bro hug.

“Super game, I tell you, they were tricky conditions.” Dad rambled on, praising Oliver for his leadership, skill and smart gameplay. Like he was his number one fan.

“Thank you, Mr. Shelton,” Oliver said numerous times.

The conversation continued and it wasn’t long till Dad said the words that struck horror in my heart. “Now, back in junior high when I was quarterback...”

To his credit, Oliver listened and commented without sounding bored and when Dad mentioned his high school discus record, Oliver winked at me.

“That’s amazing, Mr. Shelton. Totally cool.”

“Look, here it is,” Dad said, nearly tripping over the coffee table to get to the bookshelf. He proudly handed Oliver the trophy, the small plaque barely hanging on.

“Dad, it’s an ancient relic,” I cried in embarrassment. “What do you want Oliver to do, dust it for you?”

Oliver gently blew on it and a layer of dust floated into the air. We all laughed and Dad sheepishly took the trophy back.

But he was undeterred. “How about we watch a replay of the game? Sweetie, you wanted to see it, Ollie, you in?”

I cringed. Dad was now calling him Ollie and suggesting we all hang out and watch the game!

Sure Oliver would make an excuse to leave, he instead plonked himself back down on the couch next to me and said, “Sounds good, Mr. S, I’m in.” And he squeezed my knee and grinned.

And I had no clue what game my fake boyfriend was playing. But I was loving every minute of it.