by Emery Lee
There’s a little bit of tension in the air between us, but I’m not sure how to get rid of it. It’s been a little while since we’ve seen each other, and I still don’t know why he was avoiding me, and then there’s this lingering thought hanging over my head after reading those Diary messages. If people really care more about my relationship with Drew than the meet cutes, the Diary won’t stand a chance if he ends our fake relationship.
I take a step closer to him, but my hands are shaking and I accidentally bump into him. I jerk away, opting to cross my arms instead, but Drew doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, I thought we could start with yoga and then move on to weight sets.”
I cringe but try to cover it up. I’m grateful he wanted to go out today at all, and the last thing I want to do is offend him by insulting his date plans. “Um, I’m not really into physical activity—”
He laughs, draping an arm around my shoulders. “I’m kidding. I figured we could do a little photo shoot for the Diary.”
My eyes widen at that, my heart speeding up, the tension shattering around us. I’ve never done a photo shoot, and honestly, there are barely any pictures of me anywhere because I’ve always been the only friend in the group who knows how to so much as hold a camera. But this place really is gorgeous, and the sun’s at just the right height, and I love the idea of doing some couple shots. And Drew’s flashing me a smile like maybe he completely forgot our relationship is fake and maybe he actually has feelings for me, and all the awkwardness from before was just in my head.
Drew gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and starts motioning me toward the stage. “Let’s start here.”
“Did you bring a camera?” I ask.
He chuckles. “We’ll just use my phone.”
So we spend the next hour working out poses and taking pictures. He stops a random tourist and asks them to get a few shots of us together, and then we switch, me trying to figure out how to navigate a not-iPhone as he flexes and makes goofy faces at the camera.
Once we’re done, I start scrolling through the pictures to find my favorites. The couple shots are really cute, and I send all of them to myself so I can use them for the Diary. My personal shots are a bit less impressive. The light’s off and my nose looks kind of big in most of them, like Drew didn’t actually look before shooting the shots, but at least the red rocks are mostly visible. I really can’t expect him to be good at everything. It’s actually kind of endearing that my photos suck, like he was so caught up in the moment of being with me he couldn’t focus on getting the shots right.
“Okay, are you ready for part two?”
I look up at Drew, who’s smiling at me.
“Part two?”
“Hell yeah,” he says. “I’d never get you up this early if I only had one thing planned.”
I pass his phone back to him, and he calls us a ride. I don’t actually know where we’re going until we step out of the car and Drew says, “As someone new to the city, you really have to take in the view.”
“The view?”
“Yup. You’ll see what I mean once we get to the top. It’s a whole experience.”
I look up at the road that seems to be snaking its way up the mountain. “Are we driving?”
Drew laughs, taking my hand and leading me toward a hiking trail. Oh hell no.
“You really have to walk it if you want the full experience.”
“But I’m in skinny jeans.”
He laughs again. “You’ll be fine, Noah. Do it for the Diary. Don’t you think our fans will want to see pictures of us against the city skyline?”
And I sigh because as much as I hate walking or anything else that can be considered “exercise,” and even though I’ve told him that I’m not much for outdoor activities, it could be a cute shot for the Diary, and I really can’t complain when he’s putting so much effort into keeping it afloat.
But I think he overestimates me because maybe a half mile in, I already feel like my legs are being burned off. He starts talking about how it’s such a nice day out, and like, sure, you know, if you’re having a picnic or going to the beach. This is a whole new level of torture.
I’m not sure how long it takes for us to get to the top, but literally everyone passes us—the white couple with a baby in one of those chest carriers, the group of teenagers lugging massive book bags, the young kid with his hundred-year-old grandmother.
“I’m gonna have to get you out more often,” Drew says when we reach the top, and I’m half a breath from keeling over and becoming one with the cement. I just smile and nod through my battle against my lungs as they struggle to get the fuck away from me.
“Next time, might I suggest a hot spring?”
Drew laughs, but he’s already steering me toward the edge before I can catch my breath. I understand why he wanted to come here, though. The view really is spectacular—all of Denver, the mountains, it’s the real deal. But holy shit, there’re black spots in my vision, and I gasp, “Do you have water?”
He shakes his head. “We can get some after we go back down.”
Back down?
“Let’s get a picture,” he says, pulling out his phone. “We can just do a selfie if you want.”
I nod, but what I want is a gallon of water and my bed. And maybe a massage because my legs are going to be in pain for the next month.
He drapes his arms around me and puts on the selfie cam, and I wince. I look like I’ve just gotten spat out of a tornado.
He smiles. “Say cheese!”
“More like please, as in, please don’t take a picture of me looking like a mixed bride of Frankenstein.”
Drew laughs again and snaps the picture. He slips his phone back into his pocket and says, “I think you look cute.”
I roll my eyes. “No, you don’t. Literally no one thinks I look cute right now.”
He smiles. “Relax, Noah. Not everything has to go on the Diary. It’s just to remember this day, you know?”
And I sigh because I kind of want to collapse from exhaustion, but a part of me feels like I should be grateful. Fake date or no, he planned out this whole day for us, and here I am complaining because leg day is literally never and I didn’t think to ask what to wear before I left the apartment this morning. But if he wants to remember this day even beyond posting for the Diary’s followers, that means he genuinely enjoys spending time with me, right? That it’s not all just staged?
And maybe he’s right. I don’t have to post everything on the Diary even if that is the reason I put myself through this torture. What matters is that we’re building up our relationship according to the steps, and that’ll be important in the long run.
“Do you want to head back, or do you wanna take in the view some more?” he asks.
“Let’s look some more.” There’s no way in hell I’ll survive the return trip if I don’t get a chance to catch my breath.
I lean against him as we look out over the city skyline. He keeps his arm around me, and I’m grateful for it, both because it’s cute and because I’m pretty sure I’ll topple over without the support.
Finally, I tell him I’m good, and we head back down the mountain. My throat’s on fire by the time a driver comes to take us to our next location, and I imagine I smell terrible. One thing I miss about the days I used to carry a purse is that I never have body spray on me anymore. What I wouldn’t give for a free shower or even a little Febreze.
“I’m taking you to lunch,” Drew says, and I smile because I could use the fuel and the water, which I still haven’t had.
When we step out of the car, I’m wobbly on my feet. Drew steers me toward the restaurant, and we sit out on a little patio where I’m finally able to collapse and down two glasses of water.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod, but I feel like my whole life is on fire. I’m going home after this date to collapse for three years and never leave my closet again.
He smiles, placing a hand over mine. “I p
robably should’ve warned you about the hike.”
I laugh, brushing some sweat off my face. “It’s fine.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
I blush, turning my face away. “Sorry.”
“We can save the outdoor dates for after we get you in shape,” he says. “Honestly, I just got really excited since I haven’t seen you all week. I mean, excited to work on updates for the Diary, of course. Can’t say I didn’t miss all the attention.”
I look up at that, my mouth gaping. “Wait, really? I thought you were avoiding me.”
“I told you I was busy.”
“I know, but I thought you were just doing that thing where people say they’re busy because they’re too nice to say they don’t want to see you.”
He laughs, and it sounds lovely, and I feel all the hesitation wash away from me. Why did I backpedal? Why did I forget how lucky I am to have found Drew?
“I definitely wanted to see you,” he says. “Things have just been kind of rough at home.”
“How so?” I ask, my voice low. I don’t want him to feel like he has to answer, but if he wants to, I want him to.
He gives me a soft smile and says, “My parents are getting divorced. It’s not a big deal for me, but my brother’s nine, and he’s taking it really hard. I’ve been trying to keep his spirits up, you know?”
“I totally get it,” I say. “Let me know if I can help at all. Maybe we can take him to the movies or something.”
“I think he’d love that. Thank you.”
And I want to reach across the table to kiss him, but I know there are people around who’ll probably give us the side-eye, and really, I probably taste like sweat, which is gross. I just lean back in my seat to look at the menu. It’s fine. I can be patient. I see plenty of time for kissing in our future.
Becca
Hey, sorry, shit’s been off the rail. Call me?
After I get home, I take a shower and take a long-ass nap. I wake up just after five to a text message from Becca saying she’s finally ready to talk.
So I FaceTime her, and she’s sitting on her bed with her Yorkie, Noodles.
“Hey, stranger,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you in forever.”
She sighs, patting Noodles on the head once before setting him down. He seems to understand that FaceTime means no Noodles time, because he gives a little grunt before jumping off the bed.
“You know, there’s school, and . . .” She trails off. “Well, I started talking to this girl.”
I squeal, and she rolls her eyes. “No, really, who is she? Tell me!”
Becca sighs again and says, “I’ll tell you everything, but don’t get mad, okay?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why would I be mad?”
“It’s Gina Paris.”
I freeze, my lip curling just a little bit. So, Gina Paris is this girl from our—well, Becca’s—school, and she’s the cute, perky type with luscious flowing hair and a TV-star smile. Kinda reminds me of Maggie, minus the palate for “exotic” cuisine. Anyway, the problem is she’s also part of this group called Forward Thinkers on campus that’s all about feminism and women’s rights, which, by their definition, only includes cis women.
“Why are you talking to Gina Paris? Getting the homework?”
Becca rolls her eyes. “I knew you’d get mad.”
“Of course I’m mad!” I say. “You’re flirting with a TERF!”
“She’s not a TERF!” Becca says. “Really, she’s not. I’ve spoken to her about it. She supports trans women. She just can’t get the rest of the group on board.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Super convenient.”
Becca groans. “Whatever. Look, the point is, we aren’t talking anymore, okay? It didn’t work out, and I’ve just been really over it.”
We fall quiet, and I don’t really know what to say. I mean, I’m sorry is usually the expected response, but I’m not, really. I want Becca to be happy, but she can be happy with someone who isn’t a TERF. That seems like the obvious answer.
“Drew took me on an interesting date today,” I say.
Becca looks at me like she’s about to hang up. Then she says, “Where’d he take you?”
So I recount everything she missed, finally ending with all the stuff from earlier from Red Rocks to my near blackout over lunch.
Finally, Becca says, “So are you guys a thing yet?”
“We’re not not a thing.”
Becca scoffs, but there might be a little bit of a smirk on her face, like she’s just a little bit happy that she’s not the only one who’s still single.
So I almost feel bad saying, “Things are going great,” because I know it must feel shitty knowing that I’m building an amazing relationship when hers didn’t work out. But I also hope she’ll at least be happy for me, and maybe some of that happiness will help her forget about Gina Paris forever. “I mean, we’re technically still fake boyfriends, but he’s definitely into me. We’ve worked past the Hesitation and are well into the Tether, and then I’m sure we’ll finalize everything.”
Becca rolls her eyes, but it’s a better gesture than hanging up. “Yeah, okay. Don’t you think these categories are a little ridiculous?”
“No, not at all,” I say, and really, they’re great. Not only are they the perfect rubric for the Diary, but they’re all working, like I was gifted some divine inspiration as I jotted them down. It’s the perfect way for me to guide us into a secure, lasting relationship.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of exploitative to try to trick him into falling in love with you using his love of the Diary?”
Which, wow, okay, rude. It’s not like I found some random guy off the street and told him he had to fall in love with me. The Diary is me. It’s all of my inner desires and hopes and dreams. Drew was the one who suggested the fake date in the first place, and if he really didn’t want to go along with it, he could stop at any time.
And I know I’m glaring as I say, “Believe me, Drew’s into me. I’m not exploiting anything, just helping him see more clearly.”
“I think you just need to make sure you’re actually into him, not just using him to mark off checkpoints on your pegboard.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?” I snap.
“It means there’s a difference between being into someone because you think they’re right for you and being into someone because you know they’re wrong for you and you would rather set yourself up for failure than have to face the work of a real relationship. And frankly, none of your Diary ‘romances’ have ever felt like anything you really wanted to commit to, and Drew is no different.”
A heavy silence hangs between us as I fight down the urge to say something I’ll regret.
“I’m into him,” I say, but quite frankly, I’m about done with this conversation. I know things aren’t going great for Becca right now, but I didn’t think she’d take it out on me.
“Then I’m happy for you,” she says, but she really doesn’t sound happy at all. She sounds jealous, and maybe just a little bit vindictive, like she won’t be satisfied until she knows I’m miserable too.
Step 7: The Tether
It’s the moment where you form a connection that’s impossible to break, the moment that changes you forever.
Inbox (1,047)
Anonymous asked: Hey, Noah! I noticed you haven’t really been answering messages like you used to. You’re probably busy having the cutest relationship ever with Drew! When you get the chance, can you update us on how things are going and maybe post some more couple pictures? Thanks!
By the time I get to work on Monday, the place is already swarming with kids and their parents. It looks like they’re all lining up to get signed in and take their safety pamphlets or whatever.
I mostly just slept all weekend because I was bone tired, and as predicted, literally everything hurts. Even now, I’m half hobbling my way toward the rec center because ev
ery step feels like death, and my usual posture feels like a miserable contortion. The good news was that Drew’s death trap of a date got a lot of traction, and people spent all weekend congratulating me and raving about how great I am.
“On your left.”
I nearly jump out of my skin as I whirl around to find Devin walking up behind me.
“What the fuck, man?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I was just warning you I was here.”
God, I hate when people sneak up on me.
He’s got another coffee holder, two Grande Starbucks cups in it. He pulls one out and passes it to me. “Vanilla latte.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need you buying me coffee,” I say, which is true because not only does it feel exploitative to let him drop five bucks on coffee for me every morning, but if I’m going to make this thing with Drew a real thing, it feels weird letting another guy buy me coffee.
“I have a buy-one-get-one special,” he says. “Just take it.”
Which, I mean, if it’s free . . .
I grab the cup and sip from it, the warmth and sweetness washing over me. It takes all my strength to not vocally moan as we make our way into the rec center, Devin holding the door open for me.
“Hope you’re excited,” he says. “Today’s the day everything happens!”
“You mean, the day we get to start babysitting?”
He laughs, but I really wasn’t joking. “I know you’re only here because you need to get paid, but the kids are really sweet. I think you’ll like them.”
Probably not, considering I hate kids, but I nod anyway because I don’t want him to report me.
The rec center’s way busier than I’ve seen it. It looks like some of the onslaught of kids and parents have spilled over into here, but the kids look smaller, or maybe their parents are just taller than the parents outside. . . .
“We should greet some of the parents,” Devin says, but his voice wavers and he looks a little green.
I take a step away from him to avoid a repeat of last week. “Why?”
“Because they’ll want to meet the people overseeing their kids.”
