The Truth About Faking

soft noise comes from my throat, and he pulls me closer. My fingers clutch the soft fabric of his shirt, and his arms are tight around my waist. But through the haze I remember this is not supposed to happen. We aren’t together anymore, and I’m supposed to be doing this with Trent tomorrow night. I step back out of his arms and turn toward the door, trying to control my breathing.
    “Wait,” Jason whispers, catching my hand. I stop. “Don’t go out with him,” he says.
    I look back. “Jason—”
    “I’m serious,” he says. “I don’t want you to go out with him.”
    His words send a pain through my chest, and my head feels dizzy. I don’t know what to say. Trent’s been my dream for so long, I don’t know how to let him go. I don’t want to. I can’t. I have to keep my date tomorrow night.
    “It’s too late,” I say. “I already told him I would. I mean, I practically asked him out.”
    “You did ask him out,” Jason says, stepping closer again. His hands are on my waist, and I can feel his breath on my cheek close to my ear. “Call him and cancel.”
    His lips are so close, I can almost kiss him again. Instead I put my hand on his chest and gently push him back.
    “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head.
    “Sure you can,” Jason smiles. He reaches up to take my hand from his chest.
    “Jason,” I sigh, trying to pull it away. But he doesn’t let go.
    “Harley.”
    “I’m tired. And my head feels… funny. I’m going to bed.”
    “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says. Then he lifts my hand and kisses it. I watch his soft lips touch my fingers, and I struggle with the urge to pull us together again.
    “I’m going out with Trent.”
    “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    I look down and nod slightly. Then I go inside and close the door. I feel like crying, but I don’t know why. I go to my room and lay on my bed. I can still feel Jason’s lips on mine and the sparkling electricity they caused. I can still feel his lips touching my fingers, and I pull my hand to my cheek. It’s wonderful… But I’m supposed to be with Trent, and these feelings I’m having right now are supposed to be saved for him. This thing that’s going on with Jason is not supposed to be happening, and I have to stop it.

Ten
     
     
    But I can’t stop Jason. The phone’s ringing when I lift my face off my pillow and look at the clock. It’s 9 a.m. and my head’s throbbing. I’m still in my cheerleading uniform. Gross. I reach around to silence my super-loud phone.
    “Morning, sunshine.” It’s him.
    “Ooh,” I moan.
    “What’s wrong? Is it the head?” I can hear him smile.
    “Why did you do that to me?”
    “Do what?”
    “Shh! You’re talking too loud,” I say, covering my eyes. “And why is it so bright in here?”
    Jason laughs. “I think somebody’s a little hung over.”
    “It’s your fault.” I roll over and pull my pillow over my head. “You’re a very bad influence.”
    “I’m coming to pick you up. Get dressed.”
    “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
    “Yes you are, and I’ll be there in an hour.”
    “Jason…” The line’s dead. I put the phone down and look at the clock. There’s no way I’m going anywhere in an hour. I can’t move. I close my eyes again.
    Next thing I know, someone’s sitting on my bed. I look up, and Jason’s in my room.
    “What are you doing in here?” I say, jumping out of the bed. “Where’s Mom?”
    “Don’t know,” he grins. “Front door was open, so I came in.”
    “Jason…”
    “Hm.” He looks me up and down and frowns.
    “What?” I frown back.
    “Still in your uniform?”
    I look down at my outfit. “Look, I’m tired. My head hurts, and I really want to go back to sleep.” I move to lie down again, but he jumps up and catches me.
    “Nope. I’m taking you to breakfast.” He pulls me back toward the door. “Hit the showers, party girl.”
    I stagger across the hall as Jason goes back to the kitchen. Once in the bathroom, I remove my uniform and turn on the shower. It’s warm, and for a while I stand under the stream with my eyes closed. Finally, after a few more minutes, I start the process. Bathe, wash hair, wash face. At last all the remnants of last night are gone. Well, all except one. And he’s waiting out in the kitchen for me to change.
    I step out of the shower and towel-dry my hair. That’ll have to do. I slip across the hall to my bedroom where I grab some old jeans and a t-shirt, but when I go