The Fake Out by Sharon M. Peterson
FORTY-FIVE
Did you just see that? (As he points in the direction he came from.)
No, see what?
I just slid into your world with a pickup line, and you never even saw it coming.
—NONIE S.M.
Three days later, Iris stomped into the library with an expression on her face that warned of danger and possible violence.
“You heard from Dad yet?” she asked by way of a greeting.
“My darling sister, it is nice to see you, too.”
She hopped up on the circulation desk and crossed her arms. “Well?”
“One, get off the desk, and two, I haven’t heard anything.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re even calling? Maybe you’re just telling me you are.”
“Really, Iris? He won’t respond and somehow, it’s my fault?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Fine. I just…”
“What?”
“The school wants to know how many tickets I need for graduation. They’re limited, or whatever.” She brushed a chunk of black hair out of her eyes impatiently. Her voice broke with her next words. “I just want to know, okay? I don’t understand why he can’t call back.”
I put my arms around her, and she allowed it. (I swore I heard angels singing.) “I’m sorry, Iris. I’ll call again. I’ll do whatever I can to get him here, okay?”
While she didn’t hug me back, she also didn’t move away. “Yeah.”
“I mean it.”
She nodded against my shoulder, and I swore I heard a sniffle. A tiny piece of my heart broke off at that sound. I rubbed her back. We were having a moment. An actual sister moment.
After a beat, Iris pulled away and discreetly swiped at her cheeks. “I have to go pee before I meet with Aidan.”
Without waiting for me to respond, she jumped off the desk and trudged to the bathroom, shoulders bent in despair. And while the situation made me ache for Iris, it made me angry, too.
I was going to kill my father for making my sister cry.
I called four times in the next two hours. The first two times went to voicemail immediately. The second two rang and rang. I didn’t leave a message until the last call.
“I’m looking for Dale Sampson. This is Mae. Look, Iris wants you to come to her graduation. I don’t know why. You’ve been a crap dad. But Iris wants you there anyway. You owe her that much. Think about your kid for once in your damn life.”
I spent the entire afternoon alternately staring at my phone and fuming at myself for staring at my phone. If he didn’t call back, it was on him. Not me, not my mother, not Iris. He was missing out on knowing us.
After I kicked everyone out at closing time, Aidan lingered and helped shut down the computers.
I wanted to go home and eat my feelings. No, take a hot bath. No, no. Eat my feelings while taking a hot bath.
Aidan slouched by the door, his expression troubled.
“You okay there?”
His head jerked. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Actually. I had a question.”
I waited.
Cheeks pink, he opened and closed his hands at his sides. He said nothing.
I waited some more until I couldn’t take it anymore. “What did you want to ask?”
He cleared his throat. “Do you know if Iris has a date to the prom?”
Now I was speechless.
Aidan and Iris?
The two did spend a lot of time together. Aside from their two tutoring sessions a week, she’d met up with him a couple of times on the weekends “to study,” which was a huge lie. I’d found the movie ticket stubs.
But I’d seen them together, Iris doing her worst while Aidan was surprisingly unaffected and uber patient. Which only annoyed Iris more.
“You don’t have to look that surprised.” His cheeks flared red. “I like her. She’s cool.”
“You two are so different.”
His smile was small. “I like that.”
“So, ah, prom?”
“I thought I’d ask her to go. You know, as a friend, or whatever. Nothing serious but, well…” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “She’s Iris and, I don’t know…”
“She is pretty terrifying.”
He huffed a laugh. “Yes, exactly.”
“She’s not so scary once you get past all the talk. She’s kind of… cuddly underneath.” It would take someone special to burrow through under all Iris’s bluster to get to that soft part of her. But she was worth it.
It was her way of protecting her heart. I did the same thing, but my methods were different. I almost felt sorry for the guy who figured out how to get past all my defenses. I’d had a lot more years to build up my layers. My heart probably had fifty-seven padlocks, maybe a booby trap—at least one involving dynamite, chain mail, and a really angry guard dog that showed up after I broke up with Peter.
What guy wanted to make all that effort?
My phone buzzed in my back pocket—a text from Chris. I fought the smile that usually came when I discovered he’d texted me. After staring at his name for a beat, I put the phone away to read later.
I gave Aidan an encouraging smile. “I think you should ask her. What’s the worst that could happen?”
He held the door open for me. “Are you kidding? She could eviscerate my heart, laugh in my face, chop me up into small pieces and mail me back to my parents.”
“Or she could say yes.” I locked the door behind us.
“Yeah, that might be the scariest thing of all.”
My phone buzzed yet again. I knew without looking it was Chris. A strange, warm feeling curled in my stomach; it wasn’t bad or good, just persistent like it was trying to tell me something. Like maybe I’d already met someone who’d managed to slice through all my armor. Maybe he was closer than anyone had ever been to capturing my heart.
I blew out a shaky breath and patted Aidan on the back. “I know exactly what you mean.”