Trade Me (Cyclone #1)(22)

“Smile,” Blake’s dad says to me. “You pass the test.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” I put on a brilliant smile. “Do you really mean it? Do you mean that you, the one, the only, the incomparable Adam Reynolds, has deigned to recognize me as a human being? My life is changed forever.”

Mr. Reynolds’s expression goes completely blank. “Why is she being sarcastic, Blake?”

“Why is he talking to you like I’m not here, Blake?”

Mr. Reynolds turns to me. “Fine. Why are you being sarcastic?”

“You don’t get to test me,” I tell him. “You’re not my teacher. You don’t get to act like you’re the only one with a choice, and I have to be grateful if you accept me. I don’t have any illusions about me and Blake. Fitting our lives together is like trying to finish a thousand-piece puzzle with Lego bricks. But you know what? Bullshit like this is what’s going to break us up. You had a test, too. You could have treated me like a human being. You failed.”

Blake reaches out and twines his fingers with mine.

For a moment, I feel all the emotion that I’ve just expressed. I feel that we’re hopeless, that there is an unbridgeable gulf between us. I look at our hands, laced together on my lap. I look over at his wide, blue eyes, and I ask myself how our relationship can possibly survive.

Then I remember that we don’t actually have a relationship. He held my hand for the first time this afternoon. This doesn’t exist. It’s just a reminder of why I need to be careful.

“Dad?” Blake says in a low voice. “What is the one thing I asked you to do at this lunch?”

There’s a long pause. “You told me not to be a dick to Tina.”

“I told you not to be a dick to Tina.” His hand squeezes mine. “For one, she’ll hand you your ass, and she won’t be nice about it. But there’s something more important than that.”

He’s talking to his father, but his fingers play with mine, whispering that there is something there. That he cares. I know it’s an illusion, but still…

“I don’t like it when people hurt Tina,” he says. “I keep trying to convince her that she’s wrong, that nothing will break us up.” His hand exerts a subtle pressure on mine. “But you know what? I let you hurt her. If this was a test for any of us, it was a test for me, and I f*cked it up. It won’t happen again.”

There is a long moment. I don’t even understand why he’s standing up for me in front of his father. In another handful of months, the truth will come out. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not someone he cares about. I am only after his money.

But for a second, the lie seems real. Blake’s eyes blaze. His hand holds mine. I can actually believe that he cares about me, that he’s willing to stand up to his father for me. It’s like Romeo and Juliet.

The version of Romeo and Juliet where the Montagues have nothing and the Capulets can crush them all without thinking, that is. The version where Juliet dies alone in the tomb from a drug overdose and Romeo says, “Oh, shit, I knew I was forgetting something, but I was trying to figure out how to get out of paying ordinary income tax.”

His father’s face becomes solemn. He looks between us. “This is serious.” He reaches for his water glass and frowns at it. “Fuck. Is it too early to drink?” As if in answer to his own question, he grimaces and takes a swallow of water.

“It’s very serious,” Blake assures him. “This is how serious it is: I want her on the Fernanda prototype list.”

His father chokes and spatters water all over the table. For a second, he coughs heavily.

Then—“Hands,” Mr. Reynolds snarls, which makes no sense to me.

Blake brings our intertwined hands up, and sets them on the table.

“No dice,” his father says. “You know the rule. Your girl gets on the prototype list when your ring is on her finger. I don’t see a ring.”

What the f*ck? That, that was not something Blake mentioned to me.

“We’re not in the same place yet,” Blake says calmly. “But if it’s up to me, you will. One day.”

I know he’s lying, but even so, he could convince me if I was stupid enough to let him do it. I yank my hand from his. He reaches over and takes it back calmly, as if he’s making a statement.

“You know what?” I tell him. “Same holds true for you as for your dad. You don’t get to announce that you’re…you’re…” I choke on the words. Marrying me. The concept is completely ridiculous. We don’t even know each other. And even though he’s acting, even though I know this isn’t real, I don’t even know why he’s doing this. “You don’t get to announce that without talking to me about it.”

He looks me square in the eyes. “It’s a statement of intent.”

Fuck. I can feel a tension winding in me, curling tighter and tighter.

“I got her out to meet you under false pretenses,” Blake says. “She doesn’t know how serious I am. In fact, I bet she doesn’t believe me now. She’s coming up with a reason why I’d say this to you.”

True. I have to keep reminding myself of that reason. He wants to do the swap; he thinks I should have the prototypes. Ergo, he must pretend to be serious about me.