The Trouble with Faking

by Rachel Morgan

  I pick up my phone from my tray and type a message.

  Andi: Going to Kirstenbosch to watch Lumo Fox this afternoon. Want to come? You can get a ticket there.

  Damien: A few of my friends are actually going, so that’ll be cool. I’ll see you there.

  ***

  The parking lot at Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden is packed. I climb out of Kimmy’s car along with Carmen and Georgia, and the four of us join the crowd slowly making its way through the gardens to the concert lawn. I’ve got a blanket tucked under each arm, and Georgia’s carrying a basket of food.

  The concert lawn is more than half full already. We find a space as close to the stage as we can get, lay our blankets out, and sit down. I check my phone for messages from Damien and find that he’s already here. Makes sense, I suppose. We had to wait far too long for Kimmy to finish her makeup.

  “I’m going to find Damien,” I tell the others, standing up and smoothing out my dress. My phone rings, and Damien’s picture comes up. “Hey, I’m coming to find you,” I say to him.

  “I saw you stand up,” he says. “Come up the hill towards the tree on your right. I’m wearing a green T-shirt.”

  “Oh, I see you.” I wave at him and end the call. I move quickly up the hill, stepping carefully between groups of people, trying not to stand on anyone’s blankets or fingers. When I reach him, he pulls me into a hug and brushes a kiss against my ear. It sends tingles through me, and I wonder yet again if I’m about to make a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him to end our pretend relationship. Maybe I should instead tell him the complete truth, that I can’t figure out how I feel about him anymore, and maybe we should test out a real relationship by going on a date.

  “You look really pretty,” Damien says.

  “Thanks.” My vintage dress has a light blue denim top with short puff sleeves, a wide brown belt, and a multi-layered, flared skirt made from soft, cream fabric. It’s the kind of dress that makes me want to spin in circles.

  “You can’t go anywhere without pinning something to your clothes, can you?” he adds, smiling at my Certified Book Hoarder pin badge.

  “Well, you know, I do kinda have a pin badge addiction. And a cushion addiction,” I add, smiling at the thought of Noah on my floor being ‘attacked’ by cushions.

  “And a book addiction. And possibly a YouTube addiction.”

  “Perhaps I have an addictive personality. I should stay away from alcohol and drugs.”

  “Yeah,” Damien says, laughing. “Tell Livi to give up on trying to get you to drink wine.”

  I smile. “Anyway. Um, do you want to go for a walk quickly? I want to talk to you about something.”

  “Yes, of course.” He puts an arm around me and leads me away from the stage towards the top of the concert lawn. “Have you seen the Tree Canopy Walkway?”

  “No, I haven’t been here before.”

  “Cool, let’s go there. It shouldn’t be too busy now with the concert starting soon.”

  “You said ‘canopy,’ right? Does that mean it’s high? You know how I feel about heights.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s a wide walkway.” He runs a hand comfortingly up and down my arm. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Oh, can you keep my phone for me? I didn’t bring a bag, and I don’t have any pockets.” My phone pings as I’m about to hand it over to Damien.

  Noah: Found a new outfit for you ;)

  Seconds later, a picture arrives of a girl wearing a dress made of pieced-together comic book pages. I laugh as I zoom in to get a better look, knowing immediately that this has to be my next project.

  Andi: Careful. You joke, but I look at that and think, ‘Awesome! Challenge accepted!’

  Noah: Who says I’m joking? You could rock the comic book look.

  Andi: Then it’s settled. Next time I see you, we’ll be ripping pages out of comic books!

  Noah: Andi, how sacrilegious of you.

  “You coming?”

  I look up and find Damien giving me a questioning look. “Yes, sorry.” I hand him my phone, still chuckling at Noah’s last message.

  It isn’t far to the Tree Canopy Walkway, and we keep the conversation light until we get there, discussing our lectures and friends and the latest weird comments I’ve received on YouTube. He doesn’t mention how it’s going with Marie, and I don’t say anything about Mike.

  “Here it is,” Damien says when we reach the walkway. Like a curved, wooden bridge, it starts at ground level before snaking its way through and over the trees as the ground slopes down. I grip the railing as the distance between me and the earth increases. I instruct myself to look around and not down as the walkway widens, the trees disappear behind us, and we reach a point where we can look out across the gardens.

  Beneath my feet, I feel the structure swaying ever so slightly. “Whoa,” I say, freezing in place. “You didn’t tell me this thing moves.”

  “It’s fine, Andi.” Damien smiles and takes my hand, even though we’re out of view of anyone we know, and he has no reason to keep up our pretence. “It’s supposed to move a little bit. It’s built that way.” He pulls me further along to where we can see even more. “Look at the view. Isn’t it beautiful? The mountains up there and the gardens all around us.”

  I nod. Focus on the view, Andi. Not the distance to the ground.

  Damien turns to face me. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Oh. Um …” What do I say? What do I say? “Okay.” I force myself to meet his gaze. “The truth is, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending.”

  He breathes out a relieved sigh, his face breaking into a smile. “I’m so glad you said that. I can’t pretend either. Not when all I want is for this to be real.” Then he leans closer and kisses me.

  The Official Mission:

  Get Marie to fall for Damien and Mike to fall for Andi.

  Status: Who cares?!

  Andi’s Side Mission:

  Get Damien to fall for Andi instead of Marie.

  Status: Completed!!

  I’m so startled to find Damien’s lips pressed against mine that it takes a few seconds for me to respond. Then my eyes close and my arms slip around his neck and I kiss him back, because no matter what I was about to say, THIS is what I’ve always wanted. The perfect setting, the magical moment, the guy of my dreams. I’d be INSANE not to kiss him back.

  Right?

  Damien pulls away, and he’s breathless when he says, “I can’t believe this is really happening. I was too scared to hope you might feel the same way, but you do.”

  “I … I do.” I slide my fingers between his. “I have for a long time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” I give him a shy smile. “And I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

  “The night you suggested we pretend to be in a relationship, I kept thinking it was a bad idea,” Damien says. “That it was wrong to lie to everyone and that it would end up ruining our friendship. I thought about it every day after that, and when Valentine’s Day arrived, I’d decided to tell you we shouldn’t do it. But then … I saw you.” He slips his hands out of mine and gently cups my face. “You were so beautiful. Laughing and relaxed and happy. You were radiant. It was like … seeing you for the first time. And I found myself wondering why I’d never looked at you that way before. Why I’d never thought of you as … more. So I asked you onto the dance floor that night planning to tell you just that. To ask you out for real and not as a pretence. But I chickened out. I wasn’t brave enough. I took the coward’s way out and went ahead with this plan so at least I’d get to know what it felt like to be with you, even if it wasn’t real for you.”

  “But it was,” I murmur. And is it still? The voice is quiet, whispering at the back of my mind, and before I have a chance to figure out the answer, Damien is kissing me again. So I tell myself that this is the right thing. This is what I want. This is what I’ve always wanted.

  ***
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br />   “Wow, this place is fancy,” I say to Damien as we sit down inside the restaurant. It’s Monday night, and we’re at the V&A Waterfront for our very first real date. I told Carmen and Livi as soon as I could last night that Damien and I are together for real now. Carmen didn’t seem too excited, but Livi was thrilled. She’s expecting details once our date is over.

  I take a peek inside the menu and suck in a breath. Okay. This is clearly the most expensive place I’ve ever sat down at. I assume Damien’s paying, since we’re on a date and he chose this restaurant, but I still don’t think I can comfortably order anything more than a starter. Good thing I have a small appetite.

  Damien looks around, then examines the table decor, then reads the menu. “Okay,” I say after another few moments of him not looking at me. “Can I be the one to break the ice and say that this is … a little awkward?”

  He smiles and reaches across the table for my hand. “It is a little. It’s still so new for me to feel this way about you. For so long you’ve been like … well, I won’t say sister, because that definitely would be weird, but you’ve been like family. Someone who’s always just there. Someone I’ve taken for granted. And now I think of you as so much more. For weeks I’ve been dreaming of taking you out on a real date, and now it’s here and I just want it to be perfect.”

  Weeks? I almost laugh and tell him I’ve been dreaming of this for years, but that might freak him out a little.

  “That’s why I picked this place,” Damien continues. “My parents have been here before and they said the food is fantastic. And the view of the harbour and mountains is amazing. If we run out of things to talk about, we can at least talk about that.”

  I laugh. “Let’s hope we don’t get to the point where we have nothing to discuss but the view.”

  When the well-dressed waiter returns, Damien orders a tempura prawn starter and a beef fillet main—with a fancy name I can’t remember—while I decide on a salad that’s neither too boring nor too expensive.

  “Are you sure that’s enough for you?” Damien asks.

  “You know I don’t eat a lot,” I say, then smile as I remember Noah telling his mom and aunt about my enormous appetite and the supposedly gigantic slice of cake I ate.

  “I know, that’s probably why you’re looking so thin.”

  “Oh my goodness.” I roll my eyes. “Now you sound like my mother. And, just like my mother, you probably don’t know that I keep a stock of food in my cupboard at res so I can survive all those long nights of studying. Trust me, I’ve been eating plenty.”

  “Good to hear.” He reaches for my hand again and runs his thumb back and forth over my skin. It’s weird—because it’s him—but nice. “How are things with your mom? I mean, I know you don’t like to talk about her,” he adds quickly, “and if it’s going to ruin our dinner, then don’t worry, we can move on. I just thought I should—”

  “It’s fine, you can ask. Things are actually much better. Noah yelled at me about a whole lot of stuff the other night, which turned out to be quite helpful.” Except for the part about Damien being the wrong guy for me. That part wasn’t so helpful.

  Damien frowns. “He yelled at you? I’m so sorry, that sounds horrible. He’s been a bit—”

  “No, no, don’t worry. It was good for me. He said all this stuff about people not being perfect and how everyone will end up hurting someone they love at some point, not because they mean to, but because they’re human. I couldn’t get my mom out of my head after that, so I finally spoke to her about everything.”

  “That’s great, Andi. But it’s sad that Noah had to paint such a negative picture of humanity. I hope you know that I won’t ever do anything to hurt you.”

  “Oh, I know, I know. He wasn’t trying to be negative, he was just saying that no one’s perfect, you know?”

  “I know. That doesn’t mean we can’t try, though. We should all be striving for perfection.”

  I nod automatically, already preparing to point out to Noah that I’m not the only one dreaming of a perfect future, but I feel a frown forming as I replay Damien’s words in my head. “Wait. Really? Do you really think perfection is what everyone should be working towards? What about … happiness, or—”

  “Yes, happiness is good too.” Damien smiles at me, but his hand slides away from mine. At first I wonder if I’ve said something wrong, but then I realise he moved because our waiter is here with the starter. As he walks away, Damien pushes the flowery centrepiece aside and moves the plate of tempura prawns to the middle of the table. “Here, this is for both of us.”

  “Oh, I don’t eat prawns.”

  “Really?” Damien looks confused. “Since when?”

  “Um … forever?”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. It’s so weird that I don’t know that about you.”

  “I know,” I say with a chuckle. “It feels as though we should know everything about each other, having been friends for so long, but I’m sure there are lots of random things that simply never came up.”

  “Like prawns, apparently.”

  “Yeah, like prawns.” I laugh to show Damien it’s no big deal to me because he seems a little upset by this discovery. “Oh, you know what I heard some girls talking about earlier?” I ask, picking the first subject change that comes to mind. “The Smuts formal.” I give him a sideways smile. “Apparently it isn’t too far away. These girls were wondering if anyone would invite them.”

  Damien stops chewing and stares at me with a thoughtful expression.

  Crap. I’m talking without thinking again. “I mean, not that you should feel any pressure to ask me to go with you. That’s not why I mentioned it. I was just … ugh. Now I’m really making this awkward.”

  “No, no, that’s not it. I just hadn’t thought about it yet. Of course we’ll go together. You’re my girlfriend, Andi. For real now.”

  Girlfriend. I expect to feel a thrill rushing through me when he says that, but my insides don’t give me the reaction I was hoping for. Perhaps, since Damien’s been referring to me as his girlfriend for weeks now, I’ve become used to it. Even though it wasn’t real until now.

  I clap my hands together and add in a small squeal in an attempt to get my body to respond with the appropriate level of excitement. “It will be so much fun. I’ve already got this fantastic idea for a dress that’s a little alternative. I was going to keep it for the Fuller formal later in the year, but since the Smuts one is first, I can do it then. You’re gonna love it. It’ll be totally different from the standard formal dress all the other girls will be wearing.”

  “Awesome,” Damien says, dipping a prawn into the tiny bowl of sauce on the side of the plate. “Not too different, though, I hope. I know you always add something quirky and interesting to your outfits—it’s one of the things I love about you—but, you know, it’s a formal, so you still want to look nice.”

  “Of course it will look nice. Have I ever crafted an outfit that doesn’t look nice?”

  He smiles and shakes his head, but now I’m wondering what he really thinks of my creative wardrobe choices. “Are you sure you don’t want to taste this?” he asks, gesturing to the last prawn on the plate. “It’s delicious.”

  “Um, yes. I mean, yes, I’m sure.” I fiddle with the pin badge attached to the collar of my brown and white polka-dot dress and wonder if Damien finds it strange. It’s a plain circle with the words Coffee Junkie written in brown loopy text. I thought it was cute, but maybe to Damien it doesn’t count as ‘nice,’ especially since we’re out at a fancy restaurant.

  Before I can get too concerned about the matter, Damien asks how my classes are going. Discussion of our studies keeps us busy until our main meals arrive. Then we talk about his plans for the future—which include getting a master’s—the friends we used to know at school, the book I’m currently reading, his parents’ vegan diet, the roomful of weed-smoking Smuts guys he found when he was on duty last week, and the noisy renovations taking place on the floor above
the building he has most of his lectures in. It’s nice. It’s comfortable. It’s … a little boring.

  Dammit. Noah was right.

  We make out in Damien’s car in the Smuts parking lot. The city lights sparkle in the background, cheesy love songs play on the radio, and my heart rate rises as Damien’s lips move against mine, our tongues entwine, and his fingers slide through my hair.

  This is right. This is perfect. This is definitely not boring. Noah was definitely wrong.

  UGH! So why am I not burning up with fiery passion? Why am I wondering who the ping on my phone two minutes ago was from? Why, for freak’s sake, am I thinking about Noah instead of the guy I’m currently kissing—his best friend?

  Damien’s hand travels slowly up my leg, pulling my skirt up with it, and I decide it’s time to stop this. I put my hand on top of his, halting his progress, and pull away from the kiss. He chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s take this slowly.”

  I reach for the door handle, then stop. “Damien, is this … the right thing? You and me?” I dare to meet his gaze and find him looking momentarily confused.

  “Yes, of course.” He lifts my hand and kisses it. “I think you’re just feeling weird because we’ve been friends for so long. You’ll get used to us being together soon.”

  “I … okay.” Maybe I will. Or maybe I need a day or two to properly think about this. “I, uh, have some work I haven’t finished for tomorrow yet. Do you mind if we call it a night?”

  “No, not at all, I was about to suggest the same thing.” He gets out his side of the car.

  Wow, my sarcastic inner voice—a voice that sounds suspiciously like Noah’s—whispers to me. Don’t let that passion sweep the two of you away.

  Back in my room, I flop onto my bed with my phone and discover that the message just now was from Livi.