My maturity has taken a real nosedive tonight. She’s all dolled up in a bright green dress that pushes said boobs up, and from this angle I can see right down into her cleavage. I don’t do that though (this time) because that’s a crappy way to treat a friend doing you a solid. Instead, I mentally recite all the bones in the hand.
I’m not too busy distracting myself to notice the way people react as soon as she says we’re engaged, though. Especially the women, but even the men, get these happy smiles and want to hear more about how we got together. People love engaged couples and they especially love us, it seems. I pause my recital of bones to listen to her retell the story of how we first met. It’s at least in part based on truth. I remember that day well.
“I was moving into the apartment next door and he swooped in to help me carry my boxes upstairs.”
It was one box, but if she wants to remember it like I carried twenty, then who am I to correct her?
I find myself grinning and wrapping my arm around her waist as she rests her head on my shoulder. I know we’re not really engaged, but Reagan is a damn good actress which makes it harder than you’d think to play along without forgetting.
Hell, when Dr. Dove, a professor in the physics department, asks to see Reagan’s ring, I want to kick myself for not buying her a rock the size of my fist. Then I remember, we’re not actually engaged.
Real shame. She’s the kind of girl who deserves big diamonds and opportunities to show them off.
As the hours pass and we finish talking to everyone, I start to relax again. I’m usually better under pressure than this, but I’ve got a lot on the line.
“Wow, I don’t know how you do it,” I say when we finally get a second by ourselves.
“Do what?”
“Keep up the charade like that. You’re incredible. They all bought it. Every single one of them. Even Professor Hammond looked like he was happy for us, and I happen to know he just went through a nasty divorce.”
“It was nothing.” She crosses her arms at her waist, then drops them and stands straighter. “Anyone else we need to talk to?”
“I don’t think so.” I do a final scan of the room and loosen my tie. “Ready to get out of here?”
She nods.
Once we’re in the Jeep, I lean back in the seat and blow out a breath. “That was intense. I’m sorry I put you through that. Holy uncomfortable situation, am I right? I owe you big, and I promise I’ll never ask you to do anything like that again.”
We lock eyes. I can’t read her expression, but I can tell she’s dropped the act now. Little disappointing, I gotta say. When someone looks at you like you’re everything, it sucks when they stop.
“Do you want to grab dinner or something? It’s still early.”
“No thanks. I’m pretty tired.” She stares out the window as I pull away from the restaurant. She’s gotta be exhausted. I am, and I was barely doing any of the work.
We’re both quiet as we head back. Tonight was a lot to process. I got to see a side of Reagan I’ve never seen before. She was so… perfect. She said the perfect things at just the right time. She’s smart and funny, and obviously observant. She could recall snippets of my life, interests, family, like she was an integral part of my life.
Sure, we’ve been friends and neighbors for two years but I’m not even sure Rhett could have done better. No one was looking to trip us up on our lie, but if they had been, they wouldn’t have been able to. Well, as long as they only spoke to her. She was flawless. And I’m not too proud to admit that I wasn’t a lot of help. She carried us to victory for sure.
Reagan walks ahead of me up the stairs toward our apartments.
“I’m sorry for tonight,” she says, breaking her silence.
“What? Why? Those professors ate it up. You were great. They loved you.” I raise a hand to touch her arm and then shove it into my pocket. You’re not engaged; you’re just friends.
“Yeah, they did, but you looked like you were going to faint for most of the past two hours,” she states simply and opens her door.
I chuckle quietly. It was real close there for a bit while my whole future flashed before my eyes.
She steps inside. “I’ll see you later. Night, Adam.”
I slip into my apartment and practically flop onto the couch.
I’m exhausted, but the adrenaline of the night is still pumping.
“How’d it go?” Rhett asks from the kitchen. He’s drinking orange juice straight from the container and staring into the fridge.
“Great, I think. I don’t know. It was weird.”
“Weird? Weird how?”
I’m hesitant to tell him about me and Reagan pretending to be engaged. Rhett’s my best friend, I know he’s always got my back, but I guess I don’t want to admit that I had to stoop to that level. I’m not proud of it. In fact, I’ve already decided I need to tell Dr. Salco the truth. That’s not going to be a fun conversation.
I wave him off. “Want to grab food somewhere or go on a run?”
“A run?” He lifts a brow.
“I need to do something besides sit here. I’m all amped up.”
Smiling, he says, “It really must’ve been a weird night.”
“You should have seen Reagan charming my professors. If she were up for the scholarship, they would have given it to her tonight and then probably thrown her a parade. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Rhett grins at me. “You like her.”
“What? No.” I dismiss the idea not because it’s so crazy that I’d be into her, but the fact that it took Reagan pretending to be my fiancée to get her to open up to me. That tells me how much of a chance I stand at there being anything between us but friendship. “I’m thankful though. I think I have a good shot at the scholarship if I don’t blow the speech.”
“Maybe you can get Reagan to do that for you too,” he jokes.
I stand. I really do have way too much energy to sit around. “Let’s go for a run through campus. Remember that old trail behind the dorms we ran freshmen year?”
Rhett grins. “That’s a killer night run trail. You think it’s still the same?”
“Only one way to find out.” I head to my room and change quickly, come back out with my shoes in hand.
“I can’t,” he says when I find him still in the kitchen. “I promised Carrie I’d call her again before she goes to bed. It’s getting late there.”
“Can’t you just text her and tell her you’ll talk in the morning?”
I can tell by his expression that’s not happening. Rhett’s girlfriend Carrie lives in Nebraska. They’ve dated since high school and have been doing long-distance all of college. This isn’t the first time he’s had to bow out of something to call her.
I get that it’s important they communicate, but it’s six or seven times a day that he has to talk to her. If it seemed like he wanted to, I guess it wouldn’t bother me so much, but it feels like it’s out of obligation.
And I’ve heard their good night conversations. They last all of two minutes. Which means he’s blowing off our run for a conversation that could be done through text. I don’t get it.