Faking It (Losing It, #2)(31)

He caught it easily, and then leaned back against the closed door, staring at me. The guy was straight out of a preppy GAP catalogue.

And I liked it.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked. “I can make an excuse.”

There was no way my parents would accept an excuse. My mother was like an octopus, and he was pretty damn wrapped up in her tentacles already. But his sincerity made something pinch in my throat, and I had to look away from him again. How did he always know exactly what to say?

Supernatural. Had to be.

“Max, it’s not worth it. Lying just puts off the inevitable. Sooner or later, they’re going to have to accept you the way you are.” fingernails scrapemostowI wondered if I laughed bitterly. “Well, they’ve gone this long without accepting it. I’m sure they could squeeze in another twenty-two years.”

I heard the floorboards creak as he walked toward me.

“Max . . .”

I sat up and swung my feet over the other side of the bed, so that my back was to him. I’d already spilled enough of my secrets today. I wasn’t doing it again. And I needed to get this all under control before I snapped.

“It’s fine. We’ll just finish out dinner, and then it will be over. I’ll tell them in a week or two that we broke up. They’ll get over it.”

Doubtful. Something told me I’d hear about Cade as the “one that got away” for the rest of my life.

He said, “Just tell them I chose fantasy football over you. Your dad seems like the kind of guy that would buy that.”

“How flattering.”

He laughed, “You know I’d always choose you over football, Max.”

I looked at him over my shoulder and asked, “Are you sure you’re from Texas?”

He smiled and said, “Truce?”

I nodded.

He threw the pillow he was holding, and it nailed me right in the face.

“Now, a truce.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Stalker.”

“Liar.”

“Jerk.”

“Loving girlfriend.”

“You suck at insults.”

“You cringed when I said loving, so it counts.”

“Golden Boy.”

“Angry Girl.”

I smiled, feeling a lot less angry. He was good at that.

We returned to the living room, and though dessert was painful, it wasn’t excruciating. Cade chatted with my parents, so I didn’t have to. Cade was also exceptionally good at keeping them on innocuous topics that wouldn’t erupt into the arguments that normally typified our holiday dinners.

He was exactly what our family had been missing . . . well, since Alexandria’s accident. She was the good one, the one who always knew what to say and how to act. She was the ingredient that made our family work, and she was gone. Having Cade here made it easier to remember her withoht smile. I re





19

Cade

The rest of the night went quickly, and before I knew it, we were saying good-bye. Mrs. Miller hugged me tightly, and Mr. Miller shook my hand.

“Say we’ll see you again soon, Cade. Christmas?”

I looked at Max, and she shrugged and said, “Sure, we’ll talk about it.”

We’d be “broken up” before then. I wondered how she would actually do it. She should make me the bad guy, that way she wouldn’t get any flack over it.

“Have a safe flight tomorrow,” I told them. Mrs. Miller hugged me again, almost like she was assuring herself I was real. Then they walked down the stairs and left. I closed the door and took in Max’s apartment. Her mother had insisted on leaving behind all the dishes she’d bought, along with some pillows, an afghan, the Christmas tree, and who knows what else.

It wasn’t empty anymore, but it was still lifeless because it wasn’t Max.

“Well, Angry Girl . . .”

“We survived,” she said.

I wasn’t ready to leave, but I didn’t have another excuse to stay.

I had one more reason to keep us together, but I was pretty damn certain it was a bad idea. When I’d agreed to do all of this, she’d promised me a date.

It had seemed harmless before—an innocent attraction. I had thought it would get my mind off of Bliss, and it had. I had thought of it like a date with a safety net, because we both knew it wouldn’t go anywhere.

But I didn’t know that anymore. Well, maybe my mind did, but the rest of me didn’t. Any date between us now wouldn’t be harmless, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be simple.

So as much as I wanted to, I didn’t mention the date.

She said, “Thanks for putting up with all of this. After what I’ve put you through, I probably fingernails scrape sit">FINDING ITshould have paid you. You could have put it on your résumé—expert boyfriend.”

“Hey, I got some pretty great food out of it. I think that’s enough for most guys.”

“Food and sex,” she said.

Cue awkward silence. Her cheeks flushed prettily, and I let the silence go on for a little longer, just because I liked seeing her out of her element.

Finally, she threw her hands up, exasperated, and said, “What? It’s the truth! Are you implying that you don’t think about sex constantly, Golden Boy?”