Page 9

MAYA

W aiting nervously at the kitchen table and with eight minutes until the scheduled pick up time, it had crossed my mind a hundred times that this was all a hoax, a prank, a fake ‘fake dating’ scenario.

That Oliver was going to ditch and say the act was off, that it was completely unnecessary and either Savannah had accepted the breakup or they were reuniting. The latter seemed most likely. After all, #Olivannah.

“Gosh, where’s he taking you? The Velvet Vines?” Dad snorted with laughter as he appeared in the doorway wearing the ugliest sweater known to mankind—a chunky brown knitted crew neck with a weird padded moose head on it.

“What?” The Velvet Vines was the fanciest and most expensive restaurant in Snow Ridge. “Am I overdressed?” I leapt off the chair and despaired at the short green floral dress I was wearing. “Should I change?”

“Don’t be silly,” Mom said at the same time that Dad was saying, “No. What? No, I think you look lovely.”

“But you said I look too posh,” I fired at Dad. “We’re just going to the movies and The Diner. Is this too much? Maybe I should wear jeans?”

“No!” Mom interjected. “Since when do you take your father’s advice on fashion?”

“I don’t wanna look out of place.”

“Your father is wearing a moose head sweater!” Mom cried. “You can’t take anything he says seriously. Sweetie, that dress is pretty. Oliver’s going to—”

“What do you mean?” Dad scowled, his eyes fixed on Mom. “I thought you liked this sweater. You know it’s my favorite but now you’re mocking it?”

Mom rolled her eyes. “The moose is fine,” she said, suddenly falling into fits of laughter. “As long as it doesn’t leave the house or is seen by anyone outside the family.”

Dad’s mouth gaped wide like a goldfish. “But I thought...”

“It’s hideous Dad,” I chimed in while Mom gasped for air.

“You said it was a good buy,” Dad pouted, staring at Mom. “I thought it—”

We were all stunned into silence at the ringing of the doorbell. Mom quit laughing and straightened up while my heart rate revved up as I drew in a nervous breath. Oliver was here—I glanced at the kitchen clock—four minutes early. He hadn’t canceled.

“Am I allowed to get that? Or will I be an embarrassment?” Dad said, already stomping to the front door. He tapped the padded antlers of his moose head sweater.

Mum and I looked at each other and giggled.

“Great win,” Dad was saying moments later as he led Oliver into our kitchen. “Really trounced St. Martin’s.”

I smoothed down my dress and gulped. Oliver was really here and the fake date was about to happen.

“Yeah, the team was stoked, Coach was—” Oliver stopped mid sentence and his eyes widened as he noticed me beside the counter. “Oh wow, Maya. You look amazing.”

I smiled in a shell-shocked daze, Oliver’s compliment sounding so genuine. He was really playing the fake boyfriend role to the hilt.

“Thanks,” I started to say, but was drowned out by Mom, “Yes, doesn’t she look fabulous?” But without waiting for Oliver’s reply, her nosiness took over. “So, you’re going to the cinema? What are you going to see?”

“It’s the latest Marvel movie, Mrs. Shelton,” Oliver said, his eyes flitting to Mom only momentarily. They landed back on me with a soft gaze, one that made my heart swell. Seemed the thirty minutes spent cursing my curling iron had been well worth the effort.

What a shame this was all an act.

Mom was saying something about an 11:00 pm curfew, but Dad contradicted and suggested 11:30 and while they indulged in their own little discussion, Oliver winked. My heart fluttered in complete oblivion. Stupid thing didn’t know this was fake, that none of this was real.

Oliver cleared his throat to alert Mom and Dad, and when he had their attention, he slipped his hand in mine. “We really should be going. Don’t wanna miss the start of the movie,” he said, oozing complete confidence—almost like when he was with Savannah. Oh yeah, I’d seen them together cuddling and cozying up and... kissing. Yep, Oliver had all the moves and I needed to remember I was just a temporary replacement to prove a point to Savannah.

“No,” I said, not making eye contact with either of my parents. “We don’t wanna be late.”

“Of course not,” Mom said.

“Super duper. You kids have fun,” Dad cackled as I led Oliver to the front door.

Pausing to grab my jacket from the coatrack, Oliver smirked. “Nice sweater, Mr. Shelton.”

Dad, who for some reason had followed us, beamed with pride from ear to ear, pointing to the horrible head. “Isn’t it great? I love it!”

“Whatever, Dad,” I groaned, making Oliver laugh.

Mom and Dad waved us off like I was going on some great adventure, which in their eyes, it was—my supposed first date.

Oliver opened the passenger door and closed it once I was inside, probably putting on a show for Mom and Dad who were still lingering on the front porch being totally embarrassing. Oliver buckled himself in, started the car and glanced back to the house, signaling with a flick of his finger on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, they’re a bit much,” I said with a grimace.

Oliver chuckled. “They’re cool.”

“Have you recovered from the game?” I asked, the question one of many prepared beforehand, all stored in my memory bank.

“Yeah, I feel pretty good,” Oliver said, flexing his right shoulder. “Just got a few knocks, nothing too bad.”

I smiled and nodded, ready with my next observation, thanks to Dad. “Um, you threw great. Like over 140 yards?”

Oliver dipped his head, his mumble quite humble, “Yeah, it was okay.”

“You must have one of the highest passing yards per game in the—”

“Hey, you were awesome out there too, you know?” Oliver cut in.

“Me? Oh. Well, the whole squad was pumped,” I said.

“I only noticed you,” Oliver said.

A gentle heat swept across my cheeks, unsure of why Oliver was playing the fake boyfriend role when there was nobody to witness it. Probably he was putting himself into character, ready for when kids saw us at The Diner.

Sure enough, as soon as we entered the 90s inspired diner—complete with a CD covered wall—Oliver greeted and high fived two boys from the football team and two other seniors I recognized, but didn’t know. And each time, there were congratulations for the quarterfinal win and the impending semifinal.

“Hey Pippa,” Oliver said as the server came to take our order.

“What can I get y’all?” Pippa replied, running though the menu highlights with a friendliness that was a little eager, like she couldn’t wait to report this sighting of Oliver and me.

Oliver ordered us sodas and when Pippa returned with them, he was clutching my hand across the table.

“You guys heading out to the movies later?” Pippa asked.

“That’s the plan,” Oliver said, slowly running his thumb across my knuckles. I guessed it was all a show for Pippa, but geez, did he realize it was giving me tingles. “Right, Maya?”

“Uh huh,” I murmured with a nod, reveling in the warmth spreading over my skin, the small movement affecting my ability to speak proper words.

As we waited for our food to arrive, two more football boys came in and hung around our table. Of course I recognized both Darwin and Troy, but I was surprised when after a couple of minutes Oliver got a bit annoyed with them.

“Hey, c’mon guys,” he said as Darwin wanted to relive his three touchdowns yet again, “we can go over all that tomorrow at Coach’s. You can see I’m on a date.”

Oliver smiled at me with a wink and Darwin immediately patted Oliver’s shoulder and said, “Gotcha, boss.” And they retreated with a laugh.

Huffing out a sigh, Oliver rolled his eyes. “I thought they’d never leave.”

“Well, I guess this was the plan, you know, to be seen,” I said.

Oliver pressed his lips together, conceding with a nod. With our food delivered, Oliver seemed to have no interest in conversation, only scoffing down his burger and fries as fast as he could. I presumed that he’d decided we’d been seen by enough people, that Pippa had probably spread the word back to Savannah and he was now in a rush to end the date. I tried to hurry with my macaroni and cheese but the sticky, creamy pasta refused to digest quickly.

Shifting in his seat with impatience, Oliver scanned the room before glancing down at my half eaten plate of food. I swallowed a clump of pasta and pushed the plate aside.

“You’re done?” he asked with a look of sheer joy.

My mouth twitched as I noticed the large diner clock on the wall. The movie didn’t start for another hour, so was Oliver abandoning the date early? Was this a world record for the shortest date ever? Would I have to sit in the movie theater on my own to avoid the embarrassment of being home hours before my curfew?

“Sure,” I muttered as the humiliation of a failed first date loomed. With Oliver pushing back his chair, I excused myself for the restroom. It might add a few minutes to the date at least.

Thankfully the restroom was empty, so I fluffed at my hair and inspected my face, willing myself not to cry, Sammy’s words haunting me. She’d warned me about getting hurt—but I wouldn’t let her be right. I couldn’t get all sentimental over this.

You’re fake dating him, Maya, that means it’s not real. You knew the deal!

With a smile plastered on my face, I walked out, finding Oliver at the counter talking to Pippa.

“All good?” He unexpectedly swept his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

Assuming Pippa’s narrowed gaze was one of suspicion, I played my role to the max, resting my head against Oliver’s chest. “Yep,” I squeaked, inhaling the fresh scent of his hoodie and savoring the closeness. Real or fake, it was happening, yep, beyond my wildest dreams, Oliver was cuddling me so I may as well enjoy it.

Oliver walked me out to his truck, his arm still around me even when we were out of sight of the restaurant and in the outer corner of the parking lot.

“I guess that did the trick,” I said.

“The trick?” Oliver asked as we buckled up our seat belts.

“I’m pretty sure I saw Pippa take a photo of us just now. I’m sure she’ll show Savannah.”

Oliver gripped the steering wheel, making no attempt to start the car. “Hey,” he said, turning to me, “would you be disappointed if we didn’t go to the movie?”

My chin involuntarily wobbled. How quickly one could go from cloud nine to rock bottom.

“No, of course not,” I said, knowing there was no other answer. I couldn’t demand that he take me to the movies! I was already thinking that I might save face if I asked him to drop me off at the corner to our street and walked around the block a couple of times before going inside and telling my parents that tickets were sold out.

“I just don’t feel like sitting in a movie theater with a bunch of other people,” Oliver said. “Would you mind if we took a drive instead?”

“A drive?”

“Sometimes I just wanna get away from it all,” Oliver said, his gaze pensive for a moment, before he flashed me a grin. “I brought a blanket and some snacks.” Leaning over, he popped the glovebox compartment and the sight of a bright yellow bag of M&Ms sent a wave of relief and pure joy washing over me. And it wasn’t because I was a candy lover, no, it occurred to me that Oliver didn’t want to end the date just yet.

“That’s a yes?” Oliver asked, his grin widening.

“I am an M&M fan,” I stated. “Peanut ones especially.”

“Whew, what a relief.” Oliver laughed.

“Isn’t everyone?” I asked.

“Uh, no, not everyone,” Oliver said, wrinkling up his nose.

Oliver drove up to the viewpoint at Paradise Peak and parked the car. He dragged the blanket and a black puffer jacket from the backseat and we sat down at a picnic table. Only one other vehicle, a camper van, was there, the area more popular in spring and summer and on cloudless days rather than on the gray overcast skies of November.

He gave me his jacket to put on, my jacket doing little to shield me from the cool evening air. I hugged it around me, the scent of it like being wrapped in his arms. I was dying to ask why we’d come to an isolated spot when it contradicted the whole point of fake dating.

Oliver opened the bag of candy and popped it on the table, blowing out a heavy sigh. “It gets a lot, you know.” There was the faintest crack in his voice. “Football, the championship title, Sav and the whole social media circus. I’m over it.”

Surprised by the sudden mood change, I sensed this was not a casual conversation but a baring of his soul to me. My immediate response was to be positive. “You are hugely popular, you know,” I said, “your own hashtag and all.”

“It means nothing,” he said, shrugging as if he had the whole wretched weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Well, being the star quarterback and getting the team to the semifinal isn’t nothing,” I said, conjuring up as much joy as I could muster. “That’s pretty dang amazing, you know.”

Oliver’s perfect features distorted into a sneer as if he was unwilling to believe it. My heart started to beat with force, trying to break out of its rib cage. There was an incredible desire to take Oliver in my arms and soothe and comfort and make it all better.

A real girlfriend would do that, but that wasn’t what I was.

“Hey, what’s your favorite color?” I picked up the bag, plucked out an orange candy and held it up. I needed to lighten the moment.

“Mine too,” Oliver said, his smile returning.

I popped it into my mouth. “Second?” I delved into the bag again, bringing out a green one.

“Hey, same!” Oliver stole it from me and popped it in his mouth.

Relieved to see his smile back, I searched the bag for another green one. Holding it up, I teased him by holding it higher, and before he could snatch it from me, I tossed it and caught it in my mouth.

His eyes widened in surprise and I smirked and grabbed another one and tossed it up, making him lean forward to catch it in his mouth. Oliver carried it on, throwing one up so we competed for our favorite candy. It was fun and silly but he was laughing and that was all that mattered. We bumped noses and smacked faces as we fought for each one. Until we collided over a red M&M. I leaned forward to reach it first, but Oliver knocked me and the piece of candy fell onto the table—and the silliness stopped.

Oliver straightened, his eyes turning upward and his laugh sounding nervous. “Sorry the stars and moon aren’t out tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s your fault,” I said with a light smile.

“Well, just know, if I had any kind of control, I’d have had a full moon shining over there,”—he pointed off to the horizon—“and the stars would be, you know, up there twinkling too.” The softness of his words robbed me of breath, and it would have been easy to take things out of context, to think the words were meant for me. But it wasn’t the case.

“Twinkle twinkle little star,” I jokingly sang the nursery rhyme.

“How I wonder what you are,” Oliver finished, more tuneful than me.

“I didn’t know you were so...” I stopped myself suddenly, swallowing back the word about to recklessly roll off my tongue. Romantic. This date was not about romance, not in the slightest.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed at my unfinished sentence. “You didn’t know I was so...?”

“Um, so...so into astronomy,” I said, my improvisation lame, “or nursery rhymes.”

“You think I’m just all about football?” Oliver said with genuine curiosity.

“Well, you did get Player of the Year, didn’t you? And everyone says you’ve got a bunch of scholarships on offer?”

Oliver nodded but he didn’t say anything, his eyes drawn back to the vast sky, dark and empty, almost like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe.

“So...” I paused, wondering if I was overstepping the fake girlfriend role, “uh, so tell me more about Oliver Blackwell, not the quarterback or half of hashtag Olivannah but the one who likes orange and green M&Ms.”

Oliver’s gaze roamed my face, and I worried that I’d totally violated the fake dating rules.

“Sorry,” I corrected, “I don’t mean to...”

“Oliver Blackwell...” He cleared his throat. “Oliver Blackwell likes...” He turned to me, eyes dull, voice barely audible. “I’m not sure. I like football, but I don’t want it to be my whole life. But it is my whole life. Dad wants me to play college football because none of my brothers did. I’m his last hope. I’m Coach Gregor’s last hope too, he wants a championship title before he retires. My Mom is mad that I broke up with Savannah because she thinks we’re the perfect couple. But it hadn’t been good, not for a while.” He fidgeted, pulling on his fingers and I leaned forward to take his hand in mine.

“But that didn’t answer the question—what does Oliver Blackwell like?” I said gently.

Oliver released a breath and took a moment. “I like the Green Bay Packers and wearing old sweatpants. I like listening to true crime podcasts and cooking and I make my own protein balls.”

“Protein balls?” I raised my eyebrows. “Tell me more.”

Oliver’s laugh rumbled from deep in his belly. His dark eyes twinkled like the stars that were in hiding. “I make these peanut butter chocolate chia seed balls that have seven grams of protein each.”

“Oh wow!” I said, picking up on his passion. “You make your own recipes?”

“Yep. I like playing around with ingredients. I make a vanilla coconut almond one that’s pretty good too.”

“I’m impressed,” I said. “So, do you bake these balls or what?”

“Some recipes are baked, but if I’m in a rush I can whip some up in about five minutes and just refrigerate them.”

“Oliver Blackwell, the baker,” I said with a jesting smirk. “Who knew? That’s pretty awesome.”

“Really?” He seemed skeptical.

“Yes, really! It sounds amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said, quite bashfully.

“And yet you didn’t bring any for a snack?”

“Uhh, I just give them out to my gym buddies,” he said. “You know, after training.”

“Well, just remember I’m a huge peanut butter and chocolate and coconut fan.”

“Gotcha.” Oliver grinned. “And what else, Maya Shelton? What else do you like?”

“Me?” I gasped, shrugging awkwardly . “Oh, you know, orange and green M&Ms. Candy in general, I guess.”

“That’s all? There must be more,” Oliver said, his confidence returning. “I remember you used to dance and read on your front porch. In all weather, rain or shine.”

Yeah, trying to get a glimpse of you, my crush.

“And you used to go sledding,” Oliver continued.

“Goodness, I haven’t sled in ages. In years,” I said.

“We should do it then. This winter.”

I smiled, speechless, because 1) Oliver remembered me all those years ago, and 2) the snow didn’t fall for another month, maybe two. Surely the fake dating arrangement would be history by then.

“Yeah, maybe,” I murmured because Oliver was looking at me expectantly.

“Hey, we don’t want to waste this date,” he said.

“Huh?” I was clueless to what he meant.

But before I knew what was happening, Oliver’s lips were next to mine, in such close proximity that there was only one possible outcome. The kiss took me by surprise. After all, there was no need for it, no one around to take a photo or create more buzz. And I didn’t want to resist, not at all, but common sense and Sammy’s words popped into my head.

“But there’s no one here,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Oliver said.

“It is? But no one will see us.”

“It’s all good practice,” he said smoothly. “You know, so when people do see us, it looks real.”

“Oh,” I said, not in the mood to argue that logic. If he thought I needed kissing practice, I was happy to accept his tutelage.

Oliver drew me in closer, his hand sweeping around my back and entangling in my hair. The chill of the night air was forgotten as his kiss deepened and warmth radiated through my body. Caught up in the moment, my fingers caressed the back of his neck, willing to learn everything Oliver’s lips had to teach me.