Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating(47)

“If homophobia exists—”

“Yes, because …” Hani trails off, before shaking her head and standing up abruptly. Her chair scrapes loudly when she does. She doesn’t really look at any of us. “I have to go. I … didn’t do my Irish homework, so … I have to go.” With that, she grabs her bag and rushes out of class.

“What’s up with her?” Deirdre asks. “She’s been in a bad mood all day.”

Aisling asks. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

“I should talk to her,” I say, getting up too. “I’ll … make sure she’s okay … and help her with her Irish homework.”

“Is this your guys’ way of—”

“No.” I cut Aisling off before she can say anything else homophobic. I shoot her a small smile. “See you guys later.” I give them both a little wave before slipping out of the classroom.





chapter twenty-seven


hani


“CONAS ATá DO CHUID OBAIR BHAILE AG DUL?” ISHU WALKS up to me with a hesitance that is definitely not on brand for her.

I sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping you with your obair bhaile, obviously,” she says, sitting down beside me on the ground. It’s going to get her skirt dirty, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “Aren’t you cold?”

“A little,” I say.

“I would give you my jacket if I hadn’t left it in my locker,” Ishu says. “That would be like … the thing to do, right?”

This is exactly the reason why I didn’t want to talk to Ishu. Because she says stuff like this and sends my heart into a tizzy. Makes me think that there could be something going on here, reminds me that we maybe could have been something, but we obviously aren’t. And really, it’s my fault. I came up with this whole fake dating gimmick to start with.

I just sigh and scoot away from her. I dig into my bag and look for my Irish book, but of course I’ve left it in my locker. I don’t even think I have Irish after lunch, but since it’s the excuse that I used, I’ll have to stick to it. So I just take out a copy and my fóclóir. Opening up my foclóir, I begin to sift through it, like there’s a particular word I need to find.

“Your Irish homework is …?”

“Writing,” I say. “About … stuff. A timpiste. So I need to find some words. To do that. Let me focus, please.” I don’t glance at her, but I can feel her looking at me for far too long.

“Should we talk about Saturday?” Ishu finally asks. “Like … we don’t have to, but I don’t like you being mad at me.”

I put down my foclóir and glare at Ishu. “I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s convincing.” She deadpans.

“Don’t be cute!”

“I’m not being cute!” Ishu exclaims. “I’m just … I’m sorry,” she says. That word still sounds strange coming out of her lips. “I’m sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable. I just … I was just joking on Saturday and …” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t like when people joke about stuff like that,” I say. “Because … the whole thing with Aisling and Dee and … I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I want us to be friends. And I know that we’re doing this dating thing, but … we can’t … I don’t want us to make it into a joke, even if it’s not real.”

“I won’t,” Ishu says quickly. “I didn’t … I wasn’t trying to …” She seems at a loss for words. Flustered. There’s even a slight flush rising up her cheeks. If only Ishu wasn’t joking about being girlfriends. If only this weren’t a fake relationship. Then things would be a lot easier.

“Are we friends?” I interrupt her stutters.

“Yes.” Her voice is more confident than it has been this whole conversation. “Even if it pigeonholes us or whatever, we’re friends.”

I nod. “Good. And we’re … pretending to be girlfriends.”

“Yeah …” Ishu says. “And we love heterophobia.”

I have to laugh at that. “Aisling is so ridiculous sometimes.”

“She is,” Ishu smiles. “She’s …” Ishu hesitates, like she’s having to really choose her words here. Like she’s not sure how to say the next words she has to say. “What do you like about Aisling?”

That’s definitely not the question I expect.

“I don’t know. She’s … a good friend,” I say.

“In what way?”

“Um … she’s fun. I always have fun when I’m with her,” I say. “I mean … you can see why I’m friends with her. You’ve hung out with her. With them both. You like them, right?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah. They’re both … interesting.”

“Aisling definitely likes you,” I assure her. “Like … she thinks you’re cool.”

“She told you that?”

“No, but I can tell,” I say. “She sat next to you in biology. On purpose. She could have sat next to me, or on the other side of the table like she usually does.”