My thoughts drift back to Jason. If he truly is some undercover sleuth trying to figure out my family secrets, he must know that inviting me to his school is an epically bad idea. I could literally go up to any student in his grade and point at him and be like: See that guy over there? What’s his last name? If I asked enough people I’m sure someone would know.
Then again, there’s a chance that’s not the case. At school, people know me as Matt Thomas. It’s the name Luke and Dad go by when in the real world, too. Thomas. Our civilian name.
It’s boring and blends into a crowd.
If Matt Miller enrolled into a school, I’m sure the cops would keep an eye on him.
Matt Thomas, though?
Nobody cares about him. Same with Luke Thomas, and the rest of my family. Other Millers have different fake names, so if they get caught, they won’t be able to find everyone. This level of stealth allows us to have another life. Some of my relatives have day jobs, and their coworkers would have no idea they’re near a member of a powerful crime family.
Anyway.
If Jason is a Donovan, then maybe their family uses the same trick.
But still. If he cares about keeping his last name a secret from me, then inviting me to the dance is a bad idea.
Maybe I just want to keep my one friend, even though I know it was probably all a lie.
It’s just … what would I be doing tonight if it weren’t for him? I’d probably just be staying at home, watching stuff on the internet. Which I like, obviously … but it’s nice to do stuff other than that and school. He feels like my ticket to all these new things. And I don’t think I’m confident enough to be one of those people who goes out and does things alone.
Like to the movies.
It’d be so nice to have a friend to see movies with. Going alone makes me way too anxious, like everyone is judging me. I’m also so scared of running into someone from school, and them knowing I saw a movie by myself.
I can’t give up on this. I just can’t.
I check myself out in the mirror. I need a haircut, as my hair is looking especially shaggy right now. I smooth down a wonky bit in the back and then preen the front bit that hangs over my forehead. I’m not going to say bangs, because that’s so not what they are.
“You’re dressed up,” says Luke, making me jump. He leans against my doorframe and smiles at me.
My door is half open, my thoughts have been spiraling so much I didn’t notice.
“Looks good, but what are you up to?”
“Nothing.”
“So you’re just going to hang out in your room in a suit?”
“Ugh, fine. You know that girl I was texting?”
“Yeah?”
“She asked me to a dance.”
“Holy shit!” he says. “That’s a definite sign.”
“Of what?”
“That she’s serious. For some reason she wants your sorry ass as a boyfriend. Are you okay with that, because that’s where whatever this is is heading? Trust me.”
I shake my head. “It’s a friend thing.”
This is new territory. Us, talking about my dating life. Not that I had one before. Plus, I’m not sure how much he actually knows about this stuff and how much is just bravado. For all of Luke’s ways, he’s never actually had a girlfriend. He’s had plenty, and I mean plenty, of hookups, sure, but nothing serious or long-term. I’ve always assumed he doesn’t want that.
But right now I sort of get a vibe from him. He seems jealous.
“A dance is a big deal, man,” he says. “Even you must know that.”
“I already said, it’s just a friend thing. She doesn’t … you know. See me like that. At least I don’t think she does.”
“Oh,” he says. “But it’s more for you?”
I mean. I guess it is. I can’t stop thinking about him. I’m not sure that’s a normal friend thing.
“I dunno.”
“Dude, you’re a Miller. Don’t forget that. Just be brave and go for it.”
“That’s hard, though. I think I might be in the friend zone.”
“I know. But trust me, it’s worth it. You’ve got this. Anyone would be lucky to get with you. We own this city, remember? Just don’t say that to her. Trust me, it doesn’t go down well. And don’t say friend zone again, it’s a pathetic, sexist concept.”
I mean, agreed.
“Thanks. My pep is officially rallied.”
“Good. But, hey, you’re being careful, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Given the scheme and everything, are you sure it’s a good idea to be hanging out with her?”
“Are you going to stop hanging out with girls?”
He chuckles. “Touché. Last thing, then I’ll go. This is going to be awkward, but, do you need condoms?”
He’s right.
It’s so incredibly awkward.
“I have some. Thanks, though.”
That’s actually true. When I turned fourteen Dad bought me a box and explained that he doesn’t expect me to need them, but he said I should use them if the situation ever came up. He’s given me a new box every year, usually around my birthday.
It feels like the one good bit of parenting he’s ever done.
“Cool,” he says. “Take some just in case, and if you get lucky, you better use one. I don’t care what she says, or how much you don’t want to, you use one, okay? Trust me, you don’t want the stress.”
“Noted.”
“And, hey,” he says, smiling proudly, “have a good time tonight, you little Romeo.”
I start blushing, and not just because of the condom talk.
Me, a Romeo? Since when?
But maybe it’s not so out of place.
Plus, I love this. Normally I’m the one who stays at home when Luke goes out.
“Thanks.”
For the first time, I wish I wasn’t lying to him.
* * *
Jason was right when he said the theme of the dance was bad.
It’s so bad: It’s disco themed.
Seriously.
I hate it so much.
I step inside and look around the room. Oh boy.
There are psychedelic floral prints everywhere, and the teachers are all dressed up accordingly. They’re so into it I’m slightly embarrassed for them. Even the young ones, who should know better, are dressed up. There’s a young male teacher standing by an archway of golden balloons. I’m guessing he’s a PE teacher, as he’s ripped. He’s wearing a massive curly wig, pink circular sunglasses, and a fake mustache.
He’s still hot, but yeesh.
A huge banner hangs on the far wall. It reads: PANIC!
I guess it’s a reference to the band. I don’t need the sign to tell me what to do, because the gym is packed.
There are so. Many. People.
And Jason is here.
I walk farther into the gym, looking for him. There’s very little room to move, and the air is already warm in a gross, stuffy way. A guy bumps into me, then glares at me, like it was my fault.
“Sorry,” I say, then I shut my mouth.
I have no idea why I apologized, it was totally his fault.
Stupid brain.
My plan of attack is to talk to Jason and get out of here ASAP. I mean, it’s a dance, filled with strangers. So, a horror show. It doesn’t matter that the golden lights around the place look kind of magical, or that everyone is dressed up so nice, and I think I look the best I ever have.
I don’t belong here.
There’s a stall by the door, where you can buy cans of soda or bags of chips for a dollar. I walk over to the stall and buy a Coke, mostly so I’ll look busy, or like I’m someone who knows what to do at these things.
I crack it open and walk over to a section of wooden bleachers and sit down on the first row. Up the back, a straight couple is making out. Already?
I sip my Coke.
Seriously, what am I doing?
&nbs
p; I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve told Dad my suspicions about Jason and let him deal with it. If Jason finds out that I know about his plan, then he might react badly. If he really is a Donovan, and he finds out that I know, then I might be in the line of fire.
But I can’t see that happening.
I really can’t.
If he meant to hurt me, I’d know. Right?
I rub my temples. I really don’t know what I’m doing. I look up. And holy shit.
He’s here. And he looks amazing.
He’s wearing a maroon suit over a white shirt and a skinny black tie. It’s perfectly tailored to his body, and the color does wonders for his hair, making it look a richer brown than usual. I’m so here for it. He’d look right at home on a red carpet.
I walk over to him. My shoes click on the floor. Everything else blurs away.
I might be walking up to Jason Donovan.
My enemy.
Here it goes, I guess.
“Matt!” he says, smiling a gorgeous smile. His eyes light up. “Thanks so much for coming. Dude, you should never take this off, you look so handsome.”
If this is an act, he could win an Oscar.
The song changes to that one that repeats I feel love I feel love I feel love over and over again.
Good one, universe.
“No worries, I wasn’t doing anything,” I say. “And thanks, um. You look handsome, too, like, I’m sure you know that, but yeah. You do. Sorry. I’m bad at giving compliments. And receiving them, actually.”
He laughs. “You’re doing better than you think.”
Now’s the time. I need to ask him to talk.
“Er,” I say. “Listen, I…”
“What?”
I can’t get the words out. I don’t even know why.
“You okay, man?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He eyes me warily. “Well, good. So, do you want to meet my friends?”
Not really. I want to talk to him about the scheme. No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t get myself to.
“Sure.”
He leads me through the party to a spot on the dance floor. There are two girls there.
One has short black hair, shorter than mine. She’s wearing a floral dress that’s freaking cute. The other is in this über-cool green dress that contrasts really well with her warm-brown skin.
They both look amazing.
So this is them, Jason’s friends.
And they’re clearly cool.
Whelp.
Jason puts his hand on my back.
“Hey, friends,” says Jason. “This is Matt. Matt, meet Naomi and Bri.”
Naomi, the girl in the floral dress, blinks. “Is this the Matt?”
“The one and only,” says Jason, and he squeezes my shoulder. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he?”
Wait, he talked about me?
And he just called me cute? On top of calling me handsome earlier?
I don’t know how to process all this.
“I hope I don’t disappoint,” I say.
“Omigosh,” says Naomi. “Sweetie, no, you don’t at all. Look at you in your suit! You look like James Bond!”
“Shucks. You look great, too. That dress is … something else.”
She frowns, then her eyebrows narrow.
“Shit, dude,” says Bri, laughing. “You’ve got a way with words.”
Oh fuck.
“I mean that in a good way! Um. I just mean, like, it’s next-level good. Sorry. You seem really cool, so I’m nervous. Ugh. Ignore me.”
“Hey, it’s cool.” She beams. “I’m used to making boys nervous. Okay, Jase, I like him already. You can keep this one.”
He squeezes my shoulder again. “I was planning on it.”
And my heart threatens to burst out of my chest like a Xenomorph. How can a feeling like this not be real? How can he fake it?
I really wish I knew what was going on.
More than that, though. Despite everything, I want him to do what he said.
I want him to keep me.
“You boys wanna dance?” asks Bri.
Um.
No.
My answer to that question is always no.
No no no, a million times no.
But Jason nods, and suddenly I’m walking with him to the dance floor. Soon, we’re surrounded by other students, who are all dancing. Lights flash around us, and it’s just dark enough for me to feel a little anonymous.
I must say, it’s a little infectious.
Seriously, he called me cute?
Plus, Jason introduced me to his friends like I was his date.
Like he was showing me off.
Even though I know about the scheme, I want to feel nothing but this.
Seeing as I have no other option, I awkwardly join their dance. I have one dance move, which is just jumping along to the beat. Sometimes I move my arms a little. But that makes me feel weird. I’m just not good at this. A few more songs play, mainly vintage disco, and I grow increasingly uncomfortable with each one.
It’s more than the fact that I’m uncoordinated, though. And even a night like this can’t make me like disco music.
I’m dancing with Jason and his friends.
I’m acting like nothing’s changed.
But it has.
I can’t do this.
The Friend Scheme is the real reason I’m here. I’m not here to have a good time. I’m here to find out if Jason is really a Donovan.
I can’t forget that.
I need some space to think this through. Because once I bring it up, there’s no taking it back, and I will probably lose all of this. Even if it’s fake, a part of me thinks it’s better than nothing. I want to ignore it and string him along for a little while, just to keep it going.
That’s a terrible idea, though. I know it.
“Hey,” I say, sliding in close to him so he can hear me. “I need some air. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Jason frowns. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing,” I say as I start walking away. “It’s just hot in here; I’m feeling a little light-headed.”
“Do you want me to come with?”
“No, you’re good. I’ll be back in a sec.”
With that, I turn and walk away. It’s not exactly a graceful exit.
I leave the gym and walk down a hall and then take a left.
I should’ve expected this to happen. That I’d see Jason and he’d make me feel like I’m someone else. Someone cool and handsome. And I’d do anything to keep that feeling … even pretend I don’t know who he really is, and why we’re friends.
Because I know what’s going to happen.
As soon as Jason knows that I know his secret, we’ll never talk again.
I shouldn’t have given myself the chance to feel how great it could’ve been if we were different people. If I was Matt Thomas, and he was whoever he’s pretending to be.
Because I don’t even need to ask him to know, I know it in my gut.
He’s a Donovan.
We’re enemies.
I need to be strong and end it.
I find an empty stairwell and sit down, leaning my back against the wall. I’m sweaty all over and feel like throwing up.
All because of my stupid family.
I breathe in deeply a few times.
I clench my palm, then release it. Clench, release.
This is so unfair. Why can’t I just have it easy, like everyone else does?
My family is to blame. I make one friend, my first ever, and it’s considered a bad thing. This is so messed up.
I push the thoughts away and focus on breathing deeply.
When I no longer feel like the walls are closing in as much, I open Instagram on my phone, hoping it’ll be a good distraction. I mostly follow celebrities and movie fan accounts, as well as Luke. He’s posted a bathroom selfie, and in it he’s lifting his black tank up, to show off his abs.
<
br /> I roll my eyes and go past it.
I scroll for a while, liking everything. It feels so hollow, though.
It’s not as fun as hanging out with Jason is. With him … I was even starting to like dancing. If that doesn’t show how much I like being friends with him, I don’t know what will.
I look up. The hallway in front of me is totally empty.
I think for five minutes.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
And I decide.
I’m just going to leave.
I’m not going to tell him that I know. That’s too risky.
I’m also not going to tell Dad about him.
I’m going to drop him from my life. I know he’s a Donovan. At this point, I’d be shocked if he wasn’t. So this is it for us. This party was a last hurrah. And I’ve been too freaked out the whole time to actually enjoy it.
I round a corner and walk straight into someone’s chest.
I spring back. They do as well.
“Hey!” says Jason. “Watch where you’re going, shark bait.”
It’s like an instant sugar rush. He came looking for me. Nobody has ever done that before.
It’s not real, I think.
I can’t forget that.
“Sorry,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
The only sound is the faint throbbing of disco music in the distance.
He puts his hands in his pockets and looks up at me.
Are those puppy dog eyes? Aimed at me?
“I was looking for you,” he says. “Are you okay? You kind of ran away.”
“Yeah, I was just taking a breather. Loud spaces and people and stuff, they mess with me sometimes. I know it’s weird. I was on my way back.”
“It’s not weird, I totally get it. It’s an anxiety thing, right?”
I nod.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks. “We could find somewhere quiet, if you want.”
“Um, not right now. Actually, I was thinking I might go home.”
His eyebrows raise. “What?”
“Yeah, I just feel like … I dunno. I think I should go.”
I turn and jog toward the exit. I don’t like being dramatic, but I know myself. If I keep talking to him, I’ll bail on my plan. Because as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t stop noticing how good he looks in his suit.
The Friend Scheme Page 12
