The Truth About Faking

objects hidden in my room.”
    I smile. Now things are really better between us. But he gets serious again.
    “I guess your dad doesn’t do that.”
    I shake my head. “I mean… I don’t think so.”
    A few seconds pass. The currents ripple by on the creek.
    “I like my dad,” I say. “But he’s very… preoccupied all the time. With the church and all. The flock.”
    He nods. “I never see my dad now. Since the divorce.”
    I scoot closer to him and take his hand. “I’m sorry.”
    He looks at me and smiles. “It’s not your fault.”
    “I know, but… I don’t know.”
    We’re quiet again, and he looks at our hands. He’s really holding mine now, and with his finger he traces a line across the back of it. It feels nice, like we’re making progress.
    “So you must’ve really liked Stephanie,” I say.
    “What? Why do you say that?”
    “I’m sorry!” I squeeze his hand. I’m an idiot! Why would I bring up Stephanie? “You just… you seemed so sad for so long after you guys broke up. I hated seeing you sad.”
    He’s quiet, thoughtful. “We dated a while, I guess.”
    We’re quiet again, and I bite my lip trying to think of a different topic. What moron brings up an ex-girlfriend on a first date?
    “Remember that day at the gym?” I ask. “Last summer after cheerleading tryouts?”
    “When you hit your head?”
    Not that part… “You helped me after I got hurt?”
    “Sure. I was really worried about you. We all were.”
    “I thought it was really cool how you made sure I was okay and carried me inside. Kind of like a hero or something.”
    “I think anybody would’ve done the same thing.”
    “Isn’t that what all the heroes say?” I lean forward to catch his eye.
    His face relaxes, and he squeezes my hand. “I’m not a hero, Harley.”
    “Well, you were very sweet. I was upset about tryouts and not making the squad, and you made me feel a lot better. I’ve always wanted to thank you for that. Somehow.”
    “You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I made you feel better.” He pauses for a beat, thinking. “And I know what it’s like to… well, to not feel good enough.”
    My eyebrows pull together. “You do?”
    He exhales. “Yeah. I mean, I suck at football, and my dad was always making me play. It was humiliating…”
    I bite my lip. I like that we’re getting to know each other better, but if we keep going down this road, I’ll never get that kiss. “Well, you helped me. And I’ve thought you were great. Ever since.”
    He smiles back. “You’re pretty great, too.”
    Bingo. I scoot even closer and look up at him. Then I slip the tip of my tongue out to moisten my bottom lip. He seems puzzled, so I glance at his mouth. Then I blink my eyes back to his. “I was thinking we might… you know.”
    His mouth kind of twitches like he’s unsure, then he leans forward and sighs before slipping his hand behind my head and pulling our mouths together. I’m so ready for electricity, but it doesn’t come. Our lips don’t part, and he just kind of holds me there as if he’s counting in his head or something. My eyebrows pull together, and I try to open my mouth. But at that movement, he releases me and leans back. I look down quickly, completely confused. A hiccup-breath moves through my chest, and for some absurd reason, I want to cry.
    “That was nice,” he says.
    I’m lucky my head’s down so he can’t see how my eyes just flew wide. There’s no way he enjoyed that.
    “You ready to head back?”
    I nod.
    We stand and walk back to the car, and I’m hoping with all my might Ricky’s gone when we get to my house, because I’m ready to run inside and cry myself to sleep.
    As we drive back, my mind scrambles for any reason I can find that makes sense. Somehow, someway, something must’ve gone wrong for our special moment to have gone so wrong. Something must’ve messed us up. I’m sure of it. He had to have been distracted. Or maybe I caught him off-guard. Or possibly he was nervous? Maybe he thought I wasn’t the kind of girl who kisses on a first date. Maybe all that parent talk interfered with his game.
    We get to my house and thankfully Ricky’s car isn’t there.
    “Let’s do this again sometime,” Trent says as I start to get out.
    I glance back at him. Does he want another chance?
    “Okay,” I smile and lean toward him. He leans forward and kisses my cheek. My cheek?
    “Right,” I say, getting back out of the car.
    His phone