The Faker Rulebook

by Crow, Baylin

  "Thanks," I replied, playing along. It was clear he'd just been exercising and then unexpectedly had been ambushed by my mother. The scent of salty sweat clung to his skin and clothes.

  "You don't sound too excited." He lifted one dark brow.

  "You try having a freaking home birthday party at twelve." I rolled my eyes.

  He only shrugged. "It’s not so bad. So, what are we doing?"

  Was he joking? "You don't have to stay."

  "Want me to leave?" He frowned.

  Did I? My mom might just cry, and the idea of hanging out with Rook didn't sound terrible. "I didn't say that. But I don't want you to feel like you have to."

  "I showed up, didn't I?" he replied with a shrug. "So, wanna toss a ball around?"

  "Only if you want me to show up at school on Monday with a black eye." I scowled. "I thought you didn't like football anyway."

  His smile widened, eyes creasing at the sides. "Did your mom plan activities or something?"

  "No, thank God." A small mercy that I greedily accepted. "You play any games?"

  "Basketball." He scanned our driveway. "But I don't see a hoop."

  I already knew that but decided to keep that particular detail to myself. "I meant video games."

  "Oh, sure." He shrugged. "Sometimes when I go to Jake's."

  Though I’d never spoken to him, I knew Jake was part of the popular crowd Rook hung out with at school.

  "I have a PlayStation," I said. If I could get him to hang out for thirty minutes, my mom would be satisfied, and then he could pretend like he never stopped by.

  "Sounds good." He kicked off the porch, forcing the swing back before sending us swooping forward. "So why didn't anyone else show up?"

  I shrugged and lied, figuring it was fine because he'd lied first. "No idea. Are we playing or what?"

  "Only if you don’t mind losing." His grin was smug—a cocky twist of his lips that I imagined falling right off his face when he realized I was the superior player. Rook may have had one up on me in sports, but we were about to enter my playground.

  "Sorry, Rook. But you don't stand a chance."

  His eyes sharpened as he pressed his feet to the ground, stopping the swing so quickly the force nearly sent me toppling off. He stood and cracked his knuckles. "Oh, it's on, Noah Stephens. Challenge accepted."

  I rolled my eyes. “Your funeral.”

  The determined set of Rook's jaw was so similar to the one he adopted when it came to basketball and his competitive nature took over. I recognized it from furtively watching him practice when I stayed after school for tutoring with Mrs. Bradshaw.

  When I stood, he followed as I opened the rattling screen door. I hesitated before stepping inside.

  Our house wasn't much to look at. Most of our furniture had been left behind at the two-story brick home we'd moved from into the small three-bedroom built in the seventies with paneled sides. Now, our living room held a second-hand couch gifted by my grandparents and a weathered coffee-and-end-table set that wobbled on uneven legs. The short carpet showed well-worn paths and the kitchen appliances, visible due to the open floorplan, were so dated they'd taken on a yellow hue. It didn't help that my mom had decided on a yellow color scheme to brighten up the place. I tried to hold back a wave of self-consciousness, wondering how it would look from his point of view. And then I felt horrible because my mom was doing the best she could and some kids didn't have homes at all.

  Rook tapped me on the shoulder from behind me. "You're sort of blocking the door. What's up?"

  I glanced over my shoulder. "My house…isn't that great."

  His brow furrowed. "So? Neither is mine."

  My brows rose in surprise. "Really?"

  He scoffed, the sound raspy in my ears. "Dude, I live one street over. It's not exactly a fancy neighborhood."

  How did I not know that? The idea of Rook living so close made me wonder if he'd be back after today. He was here now and that was all that mattered, even if it was only because he felt guilty for forgetting my party.

  "Okay." I finally conceded and entered the house, shrugging out of my coat and hanging it on the hook mounted next to the door.

  My mom glanced at us from the kitchen, tossing us a quick grin before curling over the book she was reading at the dining table.

  Without hesitation, Rook followed me down the hall. At least the house was clean and smelled fresh. My room was small like the rest of our house and only had space for my twin-sized bed and a dresser that were much nicer than the other furniture since we'd brought them with us when we moved.

  Rook plopped down in the beanbag chair, making himself comfortable.

  "What do you want to play?" I asked.

  He tilted his head as he considered it. "You have NBA Jam?"

  I snorted. "Do I look like someone who owns that?"

  His gaze raked me over, likely taking in the fact that I was short and scrawny with braces just before he chuckled, a sound I was beginning to appreciate. "Fine, put whatever in."

  My gaming system was stacked on top of the boxy TV centered on my dresser. Cracking open a case, I retrieved my favorite game and popped it into the console. I snatched the pair of controllers from beside the system and passed Rook one before settling on my bed.

  When the screen loaded, revealing Ridge Racer, I glanced at him, already sensing my victory.

  He gave me a smug smile. "You're still going to get beat."

  It was my turn to flash him a cocky grin as I settled against my pillows. "You wish."

  His eyes narrowed in challenge. "Guess we'll see." The game was slow to load, and Rook took the opportunity to interrogate me. "So, you just moved here what, a week ago?"

  "Yep." The p popped on my lips.

  Rook cocked his head. “What’s your story?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why’d you move to Blakefield of all places?”

  I swallowed hard and my chest tightened as my smile faded. “Uh, my parents got a divorce, and my mom’s family lives here.”

  He studied me silently and must have sensed my discomfort because he switched the topic.

  "We have science together," he said as if I didn't already know, and a wave of relief washed over me.

  "We do?" I feigned surprise. He glared at me until I grinned. "I know, dork. You gave me my book the first day."

  "Just checking your memory." He glanced back at the screen where it appeared the game was stuck at ninety-eight percent loaded. A glitch that got on my nerves.

  With a sigh, I got up, restarted the stupid thing and then plopped back down on my bed.

  He apparently wasn't done with the inquisition. "Who are you hanging out with?"

  "No one." I shrugged and hoped he'd drop that line of questioning too. He didn't.

  Instead, he frowned. "Why not?"

  "I thought we were playing Ridge Racer, not twenty questions." The last thing I wanted to do was get into my family drama. He held his hands up just as the game finally cooperated and opened the home screen. "Let's do this."

  Rook chuckled. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

  "Don't be mad when you have to admit defeat," I retorted while struggling to contain a matching laugh. My room seemed to warm with Rook's presence. It was the most comforting feeling I'd had in weeks. I soaked it in, already dreading when he'd leave. It would likely be the last time I held his attention.

  After ten straight losses, Rook finally conceded that he stood no chance.

  "Dude, is this game rigged?" He didn't appear upset and a teasing grin stretched his lips.

  "Pfft." I smiled back. "That's all skill."

  When my mom came in bearing a large three-meat pizza, we gorged on the entire thing before switching games where he managed to win once. A fact he gloated over until the next round when I made a comeback.

  By the time he stood to leave, I was surprised at the time glowing red on the clock. It was late, and Rook had stayed for hours.

  "I gotta go. My dad
's probably already looking for me and is going to be mad. He thought I'd…" His lips clamped shut, hiding whatever he was going to say. But I already knew. His parents had no idea he'd be out so late, because Rook hadn't planned to attend my "party".

  "Why didn't you just call him?" I wondered aloud.

  Rook shrugged as he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "I didn't want him to make me come home."

  Warmth filled my chest as I propped up on my elbows and looked up at him. "You won't get in trouble?"

  "Maybe. I'm not worried about it though. The worst they'll do is ground me." Rook sounded so casual about it that I believed him, which confused me.

  He'd chosen to hang out with me even though he might get in trouble? Why?

  I scooted off the bed and pushed from the firm mattress to my feet. Quietly, we made our way back to the front of the house, bypassing my mom's bedroom. Her light was on, door slightly ajar. She sat curled in bed, still reading and didn't so much as look up when we passed by.

  Once we stepped into the shadows onto the creaky porch, I stuffed my hands in the pocket of my pants and shivered from the brisk wind. I cleared my throat. "Thanks for pretending."

  He froze halfway through lifting his hood over his head, dropping it back down. "What do you mean?"

  "That you came for the party," I whispered in case my mom had come out of her room.

  "Noah, what are you…" He studied my face, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. "How did you know?"

  I grinned. "For one, you didn't bring a present."

  A crooked smile appeared on his lips. "I was sorta hoping you'd be cool with an IOU. But honestly, I don't remember being invited."

  My shoulders shook in silent laughter I hadn't known I was even capable of anymore. "Because I didn't invite anyone."

  His brows shot up. "Why?"

  I shrugged. "Because I don't know anyone."

  He cocked his head, studying me again. "At lunch on Monday, you sit with me."

  I couldn't do that. Rook was always surrounded by the popular kids, and that just wasn’t me. "I'm good."

  "You will. Or I'll pull you in your chair from that empty table you seem to like so much over to mine," he threatened while crossing his arms over his chest.

  I was surprised he'd noticed where I sat. The idea of Rook dragging me across the cafeteria as the entire student body watched wasn't a pleasant visual. "Maybe."

  His lips tugged into that lopsided smile again. "It wasn't a question. Later, Noah."

  "Yeah," was all I managed as realization set in. Rook really wanted to be my friend.

  He stepped back under the porch light that made his bronzed cheekbones glow—a shade I would later learn was inherited from his father's family who had traveled from Spain several generations back. It had been diluted because of his mother's Scottish roots.

  Rook drew his hood over his head, shadowing the eyes I would end up calling dirty whiskey. And he flashed one last grin I would eventually crave.

  He would switch seats in science, claiming the empty one next to me, ignoring the curious glances from his other friends.

  I'd learn everything there was to know about Rook Oliveira—the boy who had come into my life when I needed someone the most.

  He’d become my best friend and drag me out of my shell.

  And then I'd fall in love with him and do everything in my power to make sure he never found out.

  I watched with a small grin as he went back down the road from the way he came.

  * * *

  ROOK

  As my feet pounded the pavement at a quick pace toward my house, I couldn't stop thinking about Noah and how he hadn't invited anyone to his party.

  Of course I'd noticed him on his first day of school. When I'd given him the textbook, I'd noticed the almost eerie frost blue color of his eyes.

  From day one, he'd chosen an empty table at lunch, opting to sit alone while surrounded by the scent of burnt hamburgers and enough noise echoing off the walls to keep my ears ringing.

  He'd spent the majority of the time staring down at the sandwich he’d brought from home. I'd been tempted to invite him over, but he had a leave-me-alone vibe practically oozing from his pores. But after spending hours hanging out with him, I couldn't let him sit alone.

  Whatever I'd thought about Noah Stephens had gone down the drain the second he'd made the comment that I could leave. I hadn't wanted to. I was curious about him and ended up having the most relaxing night I'd had in a long while. I loved basketball. It was my life. But a break from conditioning had been welcome.

  Noah was different than my other friends. He was genuine and in obvious pain he wasn't ready to talk about. I found myself wanting to soothe it, though I didn't know how or why.

  My house came into view, and I groaned at the shadowy, mammoth-sized figure of my father standing just inside the glass door. I slowed as I approached, noting the crossed arms over his chest.

  He swung the door open. "Where have you been?"

  Panting from running so hard, I explained, "Just one street over, hanging out with a friend."

  "You can't just run off and do whatever you want, Rook. When we say ten o'clock, we mean it." His lips firmed.

  "Sorry. I lost track of time." It wasn't a lie, but he didn't appear to believe me.

  "You're grounded for a week." He sounded both mad and relieved.

  I'd expected the punishment, so I simply nodded as he stepped aside, allowing me to scoot around him to escape the cold. "Okay."

  His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. "Just okay?"

  "I understand and will tell you next time," I promised.

  My dad stood silently behind me as I headed for my room.

  The punishment was worth it. I couldn't have known how much weight was behind that thought at the time. But I'd eventually discover Noah's love of silent films and his dreams to create independent films. I'd try to hide how they bored me to death as we watched them together.

  Noah would become the most important person in my life. The one I'd do anything for.

  Three

  Rook

  Eighteen Years Old

  The boat rocked, dipping side to side as the murky waters of Lake Prosper lapped at the hull in a steady thump. The sun blazed high in the sky, leaving me sun-drunk and limp as it warmed my skin.

  "I could stay out here all day," I mumbled lazily from where Noah and I lay across from each other on the taupe, vinyl-covered benches at the front of the boat.

  While everyone was out messing around on rented jet skis skating over the waves caused by the strong breeze, we'd stayed behind.

  It was two weeks after graduation, and we'd tagged along with a group of friends to spend the day on Jake's family's Tri-Toon.

  The sound of the jet skis zipping by and the churning water left in their wake created a constant buzz that pulled me further into a fuzzy state between wakefulness and sleep.

  "I never want to move," Noah agreed with a husky voice.

  With effort, I opened my eyes and tilted my head toward Noah, who dozed with one arm draped across his chest and the other dangling at his side.

  He'd changed so much over the last six years.

  Noah was almost as tall as my six-two frame and had packed on lean muscle, most of which was visible since he was only dressed in red board shorts—nothing like the short, skinny kid I'd met in seventh grade.

  His features had sharpened with a bone structure that could have been passed down from a Greek God. I eyed his strong cheekbones, straight nose, golden blonde hair that glowed in the summer sun and a toned body beneath his skin that had taken on a healthy tan as it always did this time of year. Ice blue irises were hidden behind his closed eyelids, and his full lips were slightly parted.

  Noah had the appearance of an athlete, but the truth was he hated playing ball with me because he was lucky to hit the damn backboard before it rebounded with a jarring thud. The thought brought a goofy grin to my face.

  Loo
ks aside, he was still my Noah. The same boy I'd taken an immediate liking to and who sucked at sports.

  "You lazy fucks going to stay up here all day?" A deep voice tinged with annoyance broke through the peaceful moment, startling me. I hadn't heard anyone climb back onboard.

  My gaze landed on Jake who stood next to the wheel, dripping water from his cinnamon colored hair and army-green board shorts. I nodded. "I've considered it."

  Noah's drowsy chuckle brought another grin to my lips.

  "You two don't need to spend every second together." Jake scowled. "Shit’s weird."

  He was being dramatic, of course. Noah and I had a life apart from each other. Sometimes.

  Still, I shrugged, giving zero fucks what Jake or anyone else thought. In my free time I liked being around Noah and the easy way we'd always clicked.

  "You're weird," I retorted smartly. In my defense, I was groggy as hell.

  "Whatever." His attention briefly flicked to Noah and then back to me. "We're heading out soon. Barbecue at my place. You're coming, right?"

  I noticed Jake didn't include Noah in the invitation, which came as no surprise. He never did, though he had to know by now I wouldn't ditch my best friend even if I wanted to—which I didn't.

  Jake had never taken to Noah, but I had to give him a small measure of credit. He'd never outright said it at least. If anything, they were politely impartial to each other.

  To be fair, Jake had been my closest friend when we were kids. But even before I'd met Noah, we'd drifted apart with my focus shifting to basketball and his to football.

  When Noah and I headed off to college in a few months, I honestly didn't know if I'd keep in touch with Jake. We hadn't been close in a long time.

  I shook off the thought. "I doubt it. I may just sleep for the rest of the day." The idea brought on a yawn, and I tipped my head back to catch more of the strong rays on my cheeks.

  "Lame," Jake taunted before he walked off with heavier steps than necessary.

  "You know he's not a fan of mine." Noah’s comment frustrated me. It wasn't a question, but I still wanted to refute it. I couldn’t. Maybe we shouldn’t have joined the trip.