The Truth About Faking

into the kitchen, Jason’s nowhere to be found.
    “Hello?” I call. “Where are you?”
    “Oh, hey,” he pokes his head in from Mom’s office.
    “What are you doing in there?”
    “Just checking out your mom’s voodoo.”
    “It’s not voodoo,” I say. “It’s herbal medicine.”
    “I know,” he laughs. “I was just thinking about that woman.”
    “Ms. Perkins,” I mutter as I walk into the room. I wonder if Mom might have any herbal cures for a hangover. Not that I could ask her, of course.
    “You ready?” he asks, checking me out.
    “Mm-hm.” My head’s still hurting, and my eyes aren’t completely open yet. Jason takes my hand and leads me out to the Passat. We climb inside, and I pull on dark sunglasses and lean back in the seat.
    “Ihop? Waffle House? Denny’s?” He calls out the names like he’s reading a list.
    “What?”
    “Where do you want to eat?”
    “You haven’t already decided?”
    “Lady’s choice.” He grins at me.
    “Jeez, Jason,” I groan, turning on my side in the seat. “Why do you do these things?”
    “What things?”
    “You get all these bright ideas and make me think you’ve got some plan, and when it comes down to it, you’re really just tossing stuff off. Just off the top of your head like that.”
    “What’s wrong with that?” He’s still smiling.
    I’m quiet for a minute. My head’s too thick to argue with him.
    “Denny’s is fine,” I say. “Moons over My Hammy.”
    He laughs. “You do know your breakfast diners!”
    “Just Denny’s. Dad went through a phase when I was little.”
    “Denny’s it is.”
    I’m starting to come around after the third coffee. The eggs and bacon on my pancake are arranged like a face smiling at me. I do not smile back.
    “And I thought you were getting the moons,” he jokes.
    “Where was my mom?” I ask.
    “Huh?”
    “When you got to the house this morning. Where was everybody?”
    “Don’t know,” he shrugs. “Front door was unlocked, so I let myself in. I didn’t see anybody but you.”
    “That’s weird.” I try to remember if Mom told me she had something today, but it’s hard. Yesterday’s so foggy. Well, except for the kissing Jason part. I glance up at him and feel a little shy.
    “I’ve gotta go,” I say.
    “Wait. I wanted to talk to you.” He reaches for my hand.
    Our conversation from last night’s also on my mind, and I still don’t feel like arguing with him.
    “About what?”
    “Tonight,” he says, sliding his fingers through mine. Even that small movement sends a fizzy wave through me.
    “Jason,” I protest, but I can’t bring myself to pull back.
    “Just listen.” I glance up at him, and his expression makes my chest feel tight. “I know we got off to a… well, a strange start. But I really like you.”
    “Jason—”
    “Just hang on.” He pauses a moment. “I really like you. And I think you really like me, too.”
    I can’t answer. I do like him, but he has to understand. I have a dream. “That’s really beside the point right now.”
    “How?” His eyebrows pull together. Another pain.
    I look back at our hands, fingers laced on the table, and try to be firm, to reason with us both.
    “You showed up here two weeks ago, and hit me with your car.” I pause, considering my words. “And now you just expect me to drop everything I was doing and pick up with you.”
    “But you want to,” he says softly.
    “I’m not like that, Jason,” I say, thinking of Shelly. Somehow the thought of her and her mom strengthens my resolve. “Maybe there is something between us, but there’s also something between me and Trent. Something important to me.”
    I pull my hand back and look at him. “And I want you to stop trying to mess that up.”
    He stares at me, but I steel myself. If this thing with Jason is real, one date with Trent won’t change it. And it’ll help me be sure about my feelings.
    He looks down. Then he takes out his wallet and drops some cash on the table.
    “Come on then,” he says taking my hand again. “Let me get you home.”
    I slip my hand away as I follow him back to the car. It’s hard, but I know I’m right. This is something I have to do. I’m not boy-crazy. I’m deliberate and thoughtful. And I plan things out. Not counting last night.
    We drive the rest of the way in silence, and when we get to my house, I open my own door before Jason has a chance to get out.
    But before I close it, he stops me. “Harley?”
    I lean