Page 8

Sadie

Watch a scary movie all the way through – from Sadie’s list of things she’s never done

Jared: What’s going on with you and Cam Hacker? He’s not actually dating you, is he?

It’s not the first time Jared’s texted me since Cam and I started this, but he’s gotten more insistent since the race. He’s jealous—which is exactly what I wanted—but it doesn’t feel as satisfying as I thought it would. Since I showed Cam that one text and he suggested I stop responding, I’ve been better about it. I’m engaging with my ex less and less, but his constant texts are interfering with my ability to forget he ever existed.

“Still working?” Cam asks, setting a can of watermelon sparkling water—my favorite—on a coaster next to my mouse.

“Just finishing up,” I answer.

He plops into the mustard-yellow vintage armchair in the corner of my office and cracks open his own can. “We should probably get on the same page before your friends get here.”

After deleting three exclamation points from the email I just finished, I sign off for the day and spin my chair around to face him. “Are we not already?” I ask.

“It’s the first night you’re telling them—” He pauses, running tattooed fingers through his deep copper hair. “That we’re together . Right?”

My heart races, and I try— and fail —to swallow the anxiety that immediately tightens my throat. It’s time. I’ve skirted around the dating thing with my friends so far, able to handle Devon, Allie, and Bea individually, but all three together?

Allie will probably ask me directly if we’re dating. And I’ll hesitate because it’s hard to lie to my friends. Devon will see me hesitate and call me on it. Then I’ll choke further. Bea will try to defend me, but I’ll feel bad that she’s defending me for—

Cam leans into my eyeline, a playful smile on his wide mouth. He taps me lightly on the temple. “Could I participate in this conversation?”

My responding laugh comes out on a heavy sigh, releasing some of the tension in my body. “I’m afraid I can’t do this,” I admit. “What if I can’t lie to them?”

His oversized smile returns. “Just don’t lie. That’s what I did with Luke.”

I take the first sharp, bubbly sip of my drink. “So, we’re not going to—you don’t want to—” I can’t bring myself to ask. “I don’t think I understand.”

His giant hand engulfs mine, giving a gentle squeeze. “Say as many true things as possible. You don’t have to lie much to make this believable.” He gives my hand one more light squeeze before releasing it. “If someone asks what’s happening between us, what would you say?”

Allie has asked me that three times already, and I’ve dodged it every time. My mind is completely blank, my heart races, and my teeth dig into my lip hard enough to hurt.

“It’s okay,” he comforts me, though I’m not sure I deserve it. “Let’s try something else. Forget what you’d say to them for a second. Why don’t you try telling me what is happening between us?”

“I can do that,” I answer, more of the tension easing. “We are pretending to date to make my ex jealous, help me feel less like a failure after my breakup, and to help you change your reputation so you can get on that team and keep racing without making a bunch of dumb videos on the internet.”

“And how did that start?” he prompts, flipping the tab back and forth on his can in a motion I’m unsure he’s aware of.

“We had an incredible conversation the day you moved in.” The memory draws enough of a smile out of me that I have to stop clenching my teeth. “It seemed like we’d be a good match to help each other out, and pretending to date you sounded like a lot of fun.” My cheeks flush with the admission.

He nods along with each of my words. “You can keep most of that. Tell them we’re dating—leave out the fake part and the reasons why.” He breaks off the tab and switches to tapping it against his can. “And, you can tell them exactly what happened if they ask how this started between us. Does that make you feel any better?” he asks.

I nod, trying to convince myself as much as him. “A bit. Sorry I’m so bad at this.”

“You’re not bad at this. You’re great at this.” He’s emphatic, holding my stare. “This is working. People are starting to see me differently. I’m getting amazing responses online, and Incite Energy is happy. You’re making it work.” With each compliment, my spirits lift little by little. Maybe I’m not bad at this. Maybe this isn’t just him doing me a giant favor—

“Is it working for you?” he asks. “Your ex losing his mind?”

“He’s mad,” I answer, realizing I don’t know what a solid moment of triumph would look like for me. Even though the idea of him continuing to race turns my stomach, there will at least be an obvious moment when this has been a success for him. I’m not sure what that would look like for me.

“Knew he wasn’t over you.” Cam shakes his head. “Still can’t believe he had you for that long and wasted it.”

The plastic strawberry-shaped timer I brought into my office from the kitchen rings out in the most obnoxious way possible, shattering the calm.

“Cookies!” I jump up, running out of the room.

Fortunately, the house isn’t large, so I make it from my office, through the living room, and to the kitchen before there’s any chance of burning. My socks slide across the oversized white tiles on the kitchen floor as I reach the oven. The wash of hot, sweet-smelling air that hits me when I pull its door open is a familiar comfort. Using a spatula, I test underneath a couple of cookies. Not quite. When I shut the door and stand up, Cam’s there, leaning on the counter.

“Smells incredible, love.”

Love . I can’t decide if I like or hate that he calls me that. It’s sweet—kind of endearing, even—but it’s not specific to me . I think I’ve heard him call just about every one of our friends love at one point or another. Why do I want him to have a special name for me, anyway?

“What’d you make?” he asks.

“In two more minutes,” I say, setting a timer, “these will be strawberry shortcake cookies with lemon cream cheese filling, hopefully baked to perfection. They’re tart and sweet, and the way they feel in your mouth is just—” turns out I don’t have a word for that, so I make a satisfied hmm sound instead.

He settles himself lower against the gray and white marble counter, bringing his slightly crooked nose to my eye level. “Are they your favorite?” he asks.

“They’re Bea’s favorite. But not mine. Well, not my favorite , favorite.” I squat down to look into the oven, making sure the little confections don’t get offended and decide to burn. “I make these every time I wish it was hotter outside because they taste exactly like summertime.”

“Summertime in March.” He nods. “Can’t wait to try.”

“Oh, these aren’t for you.” The second the words are out, my hands fly up to cover my mouth.

His brows lift with a slightly shocked chuckle. “That works too.”

“Oh, my word.” Still staring through the oven door, balancing on my toes and resting my fingers on the oven’s handle, I look up at him. “That sounded so mean. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to share everything you bake with me. You spoil me too much already,” he says, taking a bite from a rosemary focaccia muffin I made at lunchtime.

“I promised Bea she could have as many as she wants. But it’s not like she’ll know how many I made. Of course, you can have one.” The strawberry timer goes off, and I open the oven to test the cookies again. This time, the bottoms are browned to perfection. I grab a yellow plaid oven mitt and pull out the baking sheet, holding it out to Cam. “Look at these fluffy little beauties.”

“They are gorgeous,” he says, his voice trailing off wistfully. “Too bad I won’t be able to try them.”

“Stop it, yes you will,” I laugh.

Before he can respond, my friends knock at the door and let themselves in.

“What are you doing here?” Allie’s voice carries into the kitchen when Cam goes over to greet her.

“He lives here!” I call out.

“Yes, but it’s girls’ movie night. Cam doesn’t qualify,” Allie says, rounding the corner from the entryway into our little kitchen. Devon, Bea, and what feels like every dog in Palm Springs follow her in.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes,” Cam says, leaning against the wall by the dining table and scratching Betty behind her ear.

“I maintain that you shouldn’t have to leave,” I say, although admittedly, it’s mostly that I want him here as a buffer.

“It’s all good. I get to lift weights with Luke,” he says, crossing the short distance between us to pull me in for a hug. “Although it’s hardly as much fun as eating your cookies and watching a movie.” His hands linger on my hips, just an inch shy of inappropriate, as he gives me a soft kiss right on top of my head.

He’s just putting on a show for my friends . Good ness, when he flirts with me like that, it’s hard to think straight.

“That was an awfully chaste kiss to follow up your cookie-eating comment,” Bea observes, her voice rich with amusement.

“Bea!” I exclaim, because what else can I say? What else am I supposed to do?

Cam looks down at me. No, down at my lips. Oh, my word. Is he going to kiss me? In front of—

He snakes his arm around my waist again, lifting me against him with a strength I often forget he has. He leans in but passes my lips, leaving a burning kiss on my cheek instead. I practically melt on the spot when his lips touch my skin for the first time. “It’s hard enough to leave her tonight,” he says. “If I gave her a proper kiss, you’d never get rid of me.”

My cheeks flame redder than his hair as I watch him walk away.

The second he shuts the front door, Allie says, “We’ve waited long enough. You have to share every single detail about that right now.”

My eyes go wide. We’re dating. He’s my boyfriend. That’s the story. So why can’t I get the words out?

“How about we go out back first?” Bea suggests, pulling a joint from her denim jacket pocket, saving me from having to respond.

“You can talk and smoke,” Allie says, sliding open the back door. Spaghetti—Allie’s giant, curly-furred puppy—runs outside, chasing Dandy—Bea’s fluffy little white dog. Boo, my black cat friend who was sleeping on top of the breezeblock wall that surrounds our backyard, dashes away immediately.

Once we settle at the table, Betty—Luke’s stocky gray pit bull—shuffles underneath and rests her head on Devon’s feet.

“I love that you’re her favorite,” I say.

“I am not,” Devon says, but she cracks a smile. “I probably just have the biggest feet.”

“ Details ,” Allie insists, her green-eyed stare laser-focused on me.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I read it instead of giving in to Allie.

Jared: A year ago, you were begging me to marry you, and now you’re too good to return my texts?

Fucker. I never begged. I just wanted to know where my life was going. Is that how he actually remembers me—as someone who begged him to marry me? I keep trying to remember him as the kind, loving man he used to be, but the way he talks to me now—was any of it ever true?

“You alright?” Bea asks.

I tilt my phone toward her.

Her eyes scan the screen briefly, then she declares, “He’s clearly obsessed with you.”

“Wait, is Cam texting you?” Allie asks, leaning forward and propping her chin on her hands.

“Not Cam,” Bea says, handing my phone to Allie before lighting the joint.

“Eww, I fucking hate him,” Allie mutters after reading it.

When Devon gets the phone, she stares at the screen for a while, then starts scrolling up. The joint makes its way to me, and I take a hit just as she asks, “Why are you writing him back?”

He’s probably texted me at least three or four times a week since I moved out. I used to write back every time. Now, I’ve cut it down to about once a week. I’m proud of that. “Actually,” she continues before I can respond, “why haven’t you blocked him?”

Could I do that?

She answers my unasked question. “You do not owe him anything. He doesn’t deserve to insert himself in your life like this.”

If I block him, how will he know Cam and I are dating ? How will I know if it’s working? Of course, I can’t tell my friends any of that, so I say, “I’ve never blocked someone before.”

“Never?” Allie asks.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Who have you blocked?”

“I block people all the time,” Devon says, her perfectly styled blonde hair settling around her shoulders as she tilts her chin up. “Anyone who does not deserve to contact me.”

“Guys I used to date,” Allie adds, and Bea nods in agreement.

“That explains it then,” I shrug. “Jared’s the only person I’ve dated in the last decade.”

“ Is he though?” Allie asks, turning the conversation back to Cam.

Something true. Say something true. Technically, I dated a few other people in college before I met Jared. “He’s not,” I say, “but I’m going to have the munchies in about twenty minutes, so I need to order dinner right now.”

Allie begrudgingly agrees to wait for the story until after dinner is handled. But the second I’m done ordering the Thai food and we all hit the couch, she’s back at it.

“So, what the actual hell is going on between you and Cam?” she asks, pulling a blanket from the basket by the couch. “And why haven’t I heard every single detail yet?”

I’m being ridiculous now. I have to tell her Cam and I are dating. I have to tell all of them. I have to do it.

“She’s allowed some secrets,” Devon comments dryly.

“Oh, please,” Bea laughs, amused. “You’re just as indignant that Sadie hasn’t let you in on her current cohabitation situation as Allie is.”

Cam’s advice echoes in my mind: Tell the truth.

“He’s gorgeous,” I rush out. Oh, my word, Sadie. It doesn’t have to be the first true thing that comes to mind.

Bea is far less invested in whatever’s happening between Cam and me than the others, so when she asks, “Is it just a physical thing?” it’s with genuine curiosity.

“No, definitely not a physical thing.” That’s true. But is it too true? “I mean, it’s not just physical.” My cheeks flush at the thought of Cam’s sensual non-kiss.

“Yeah?” Allie snickers. “You getting your cookies eaten all the time?”

Actually, no one’s ever eaten my cookies , but I can’t admit that. The shame I feel because Jared never wanted to has always been enough to keep it to myself. But if I said it now, they’d assume Cam won’t. And I just can’t imagine Cam being the kind of man who wouldn’t—

“If it isn’t just physical,” Devon asks, ignoring Allie’s invasive question, “Does that mean you are dating him?”

Yes. The answer is yes. This whole scheme with Cam only works if I say yes. Right now. Yes.

“Mmhmm,” I nod. Chicken.

“Yay!” Allie squeals, waking Spaghetti and Dandy, who had just settled down. Both dogs wag their tails excitedly, coming over to the couch. Betty, on the other hand, continues to snore against Devon’s foot, which she found again the second we moved inside. “I love it when my friends become friends, but this is next-level dream come true. I secretly hoped this would happen.”

“You were not secret about it,” Devon says in her usual deadpan tone.

“No one told me,” I say.

“Wanted you to get there on your own,” Allie says, grinning and throwing herself across Bea’s lap to give me a tight hug.

Something else I didn’t consider—Allie loving this idea. Now I feel guilty for getting her hopes up. At some point, I’ll have to tell her—tell her what? That this was fake all along? Or do Cam and I just keep pretending forever and say we broke up at some point? My gut twists.

“And you went from being nervous about living with him to what—moving down the hall within a few days? A week?” Devon asks, nonplussed with the pile Allie’s made of the rest of us.

Truth. There’s something true that will satisfy her skepticism. There has to be.

“I want to hear this too,” Allie says, crawling back to her seat, propping both hands under her chin.

I’m grateful for the distraction the dogs provide as Spaghetti immediately ducks her head into the space Allie’s arms create and demands attention again. Taking a steadying breath, I try to remember what Cam and I practiced. “It was almost immediate,” I say. “It started that first night he moved in. I’d never really sat and had a conversation with him before then—”

“Exactly,” Devon interjects.

“ Exactly ,” Allie repeats, with the emphasis of someone who’s made a point that Allie definitely has not.

I continue with another truth. “He’s so easy to talk to—”

“So am I,” Devon cuts in.

“Not right now, you’re not,” Bea says lightly, amused. “Let her finish, for fuck’s sake.”

“Fine,” Devon huffs.

“He makes me feel safe.” A truth I didn’t realize until it came out of my mouth. “And we just make sense together.” A half-truth. We make sense as a pretend couple, but in reality, I could never love someone I was constantly in fear of losing to a motorcycle accident . He deserves someone better for him than me.

“All they needed was some time alone to get to know each other properly,” Allie picks up where I left off, filling in blanks I couldn’t have pulled off. “They’re both these delightful sweethearts. Cam has so much to give, and did you know he’s never had a girlfriend before?” Allie looks to Bea and Devon, who both shake their heads. “Women throw themselves at him constantly—”

I flinch, hoping no one notices, but Devon eyes me in a way that shows she did.

Allie continues, “I’ve seen him turn down at least a dozen, and I’ve only known him a year. He wanted someone he could have a life with, and he found her. Right here.” She reaches across Bea again to squeeze my leg. “Obviously, they make an incredible couple.”

Devon considers for a long time before asking, “And this is a good thing for you?”

“Yes,” I say, knowing it’s the right answer. But when I think about it, I realize it’s another surprising truth. I’m having a great time with Cam. “I’m really happy.”

Devon narrows her eyes, holding my stare for a long moment before nodding. “Okay, let’s watch this movie.”

Did I do it? Did I pull it off?

Bea queues up the movie, and Allie heads to the kitchen for the cookies. No one’s asking me questions anymore. I think I pulled it off. I check my phone.

Cam: Hope that wasn’t too much.

Me: You were great. They’re thrilled.

Cam: All of them?

Me: Okay, Allie is thrilled. Bea is intrigued, and I doubt Devon’s on board yet.

Cam: Sounds like a perfect start. Told you you’d be amazing.

Me: Did you? I feel like I would’ve remembered being told I’m about to be amazing.

Cam: If I didn’t, I should have.

“Is that Cam?” Allie giggles, overjoyed about us in a way I should’ve seen coming . “See if he’ll send you a gym selfie with Luke.”

Devon curls her lip. “Eww.”

“Don’t be such a downer,” Bea giggles, pressing play on The Shining .

“Wouldn’t Luke do that for you?” I ask Allie.

“I mean, yeah,” Allie answers, “But he’d be cranky about it. Your thing with Cam is fresh—plus he actually likes taking selfies.”

If we were really dating, would I still be this embarrassed about asking him for this ? Probably. But she has a point, and I don’t want to do anything that would make it seem like we’re not dating.

Me: You can tell me to fuck off if you want, but any chance we could get a selfie of you and Luke?

Me: Please know, I’m cringing as hard as possible.

Me: Allie’s request.

Me: I’m so sorry. Please ignore this.

“He’s not writing me back,” I say.

“Probably because he knows you’re supposed to be watching a movie,” Devon says, smoothing Dandy’s fur.

“Give him half a second,” Allie says.

And that’s all it takes before my phone buzzes with his reply.

The picture is a classic flash-photo-in-a-gym-mirror , featuring an overly flexed Cam with a not-paying-attention Luke in the background. It’s completely ridiculous.

My stifled laugh draws my friends closer, and Allie and Bea burst into laughter when I turn the phone their way. Devon doesn’t look, but she gives us an indulgent smile as she holds Dandy close to her stomach and reaches for the remote. Cam’s next photo shows up while Allie and Bea are still looking over my shoulder.

This one’s a proper selfie, with one of his lean, tattooed arms extending toward the camera. His smile is more subdued than the usual too-wide grin—more of a sensual smirk. His blue-green eyes seem to be looking directly at me, and the harsh gym lighting reflects the droplets of sweat on his collarbones in an unreasonably appealing way. Good ness .

“Aww, Luke’s not even in that one,” Allie pouts.

My phone buzzes again, and I clutch it back, eager to see what it is without anyone else interfering.

Cam: Don’t pretend these aren’t for you.

“Is that a dick pic?” Allie asks. “Is that why you’re hiding it and blushing?”

“No!” I squeal, mortified. “He’s not taking dick pics at the gym. He’s not a creep.”

“But he is taking them?” she teases, waggling her brows.

“What are you getting at?” Bea asks, arching a brow. “It sounds like you want to see her boyfriend’s dick.”

My boyfriend . I blame the flutter in my stomach on excitement over our ruse working.

“No, of course not,” Allie answers. “I just want to make sure Sadie’s getting the full benefit of dating Cam. Besides, I’ve already seen it. We all have.”

“What do you mean, we’ve all seen it ?” I ask, slightly horrified.

“In his old video,” Allie says.

“You couldn’t actually see it,” I say. “There was a smiley face covering everything.”

Allie’s mouth drops open. “Do not even sit there and tell me you’ve never seen the other version of that video.”

“What other version?” I ask, though I have a sinking feeling I know exactly what she means.

“You clearly never looked hard enough. It’s out there,” she says, smirking at me. “But if you want to see it now, just ask Cam. I’m sure he has the original footage.”

I gasp. “I am not asking him that.”

“You’re right,” Allie says, and for a brief moment, I think she’s being reasonable. But then she adds, “You deserve fresh dick pics. Special just for you.”

“You must be the only woman on the planet who thinks receiving a dick pic is a good thing,” I respond.

“Obviously, I’m not talking about unsolicited dick pics,” Allie laughs.

“Wait a minute,” Devon joins in. “Are you soliciting dick pics?”

“Yeah,” Allie says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Are you not ?”

Devon blinks at her, before saying, “No.”

“You’re missing out.” Allie shrugs. “It’s like long-distance foreplay.”

“You two work on either side of a glass wall and live together,” Devon says. “You’re never more than fifteen feet apart. You don’t need long-distance foreplay.”

Allie smirks. “We find opportunities.”

Bea shrugs as her lips curl into an amused smirk.

“Oh, my word. We are not talking about this.” I bury my face in my hands.

“No, we are not. We’re watching a movie,” Devon says, pressing play again.

I try to focus on the opening scene, but all I can think about now is Cam’s dick. It’s a problem. A big problem. Well, maybe not that big. Probably. Whatever. My preoccupation is a big problem. He’s not really my boyfriend. He’s just my friend. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this.

Once it seems like no one else is paying attention to me or my phone, I text him back.

Me: Thanks for sending those. Allie is the most embarrassing person I know.

He responds immediately.

Cam: Cute how you keep saying they’re for Allie.

Me: They are!

Cam: Uh huh.

Me: At least she’s finally shut up about dick pics.

Me: Which I am not asking for!

Cam: You sure?

Me: Cameron! I am not asking you to send me pictures of your junk!

Cam: Your loss.