The Fake Boyfriend Experiment (5 page)

Val touched my green stud in reverence. “Wow. That is so sweet.”

I grinned, already feeling a little better. My friends were seeing me right now, not looking past me. “See? I’m not a loser.”

Delilah was still looking skeptical. “What does Rafe think of it?”

Rafe again. Could she not drop the subject? “It was his idea.” Well, it probably would be, right? I mean, he seemed like a belly button ring kind of guy.

Val sat back in the chair. “It looks good. Did it hurt?”

“Not at all,” I lied.

Erin sighed. “I’m so jealous. I thought you were having the worst summer, and you were off with some boyfriend getting a belly button ring.”

Relief rushed through me at the genuine look of envy on her face. She had no idea as to the truth, and that was the way it was going to stay, until I could fix my life and actually have something worthwhile to talk about. I pulled my shirt back down as Mrs. Griffiths walked into the room and ordered us to our seats. As I slid into my seat next to Erin, she slipped me a note.
Do you really have a boyfriend?

I wrote back one word.
Yes!!!!!!

Are you going to invite him to the semi-formal?

Excitement leapt through me at the thought. What if Rafe was my date? How awesome would that be? Then I thought of his tattoos and Angel and I shuddered. How could I invite Rafe? No way. I could never do it.
He can’t come.

Then who are you going to the semi with?

My mind raced to come up with a believable excuse. I chewed on my pen for a few seconds, then wrote,
I don’t think I’ll go. It might upset him if I went with someone else.
Yeah, that was why I was going to stay home. Because of my devoted boyfriend. Hah.

Erin snorted and Mrs. Griffiths glared in our direction. We both huddled over our books and it was a few moments before Erin slid the note back toward me. I checked out Mrs. Griffiths, then pulled the note onto my book.
Come with us to practice today and pick out a guy. Rafe can get over himself.

I almost grinned. I had a feeling Rafe
did
need to get over himself.

But there was no way I could go to Inverness today. Miss Jespersen would be waiting for me at three o’clock at Mueller-Fordham. With my audition less than three weeks away, I had lessons almost every day. My fingers curled around my textbook at the thought of heading back into that torture chamber.

Erin slid me another note.
So? Are you coming to Inverness today or what? You have to quadruple date with us to the semi.

Longing washed over me. If Val, Delilah and Erin all went to the semi and I stayed home, it would make me even more of an outsider. And I so wanted to go. Like, really, really,
really
badly. My belly button ring wouldn’t save me again.

I drummed my pen on my desk and thought about how I could swing getting over to Inverness so I could get a date for the semi. On Thursdays, my mom worked late. Since she couldn’t take me to Mueller-Fordham, I always took the bus home and practiced on my own.

No one would know if I went to Inverness instead, as long as I got home before my mom.

Excitement trilled through me at the thought of how much trouble I would be in if anyone found out. There was something compelling about the thought of bailing on practice, knowing it was so illegal.
I’ll try to make it on Thursday.

Erin read my note and gave me the thumbs up.

God, I wanted to go so badly. But did I really have the guts to blow off practice?

I didn’t.

Did I?

Chris waved at me in the middle of his singing, and I grinned back. Angel smiled at me, but the other guitar player ignored me, too into his music to look up. Some of my tension eased. Yeah, okay, see? These guys thought I was cool.

The keyboard started up, and I immediately looked over to see who was in my spot. It was a girl with gloriously long black hair, perfect cheekbones, and a willowy body that made her look like a ballet dancer. She was frowning in concentration, and still stumbling over the music. Holy cow. I was much better than she was. Like
so
much better. And that made me feel so much happier, like maybe I wasn’t some zit in the world of piano playing. Screw Crusty. She was wrong. I wasn’t worthless.

The more I listened to the band, the madder I became that I had let Crusty make me feel so bad about myself.

Miss Jespersen came up behind me and wrapped her fingers around my arm, but I yanked free before she could get a grip. “I’m done,” I told her.

“You’re finished when I say you’re finished,” she whispered, like it was some secret threat too horrible to be overheard by Rafe and his friends.

I turned around to face her. “You don’t own me.”

Her eyes widened in what looked like genuine confusion, but I knew she had to be faking it. Miss Jespersen was too evil to ever be confused. “I’m not trying to own you, Lily. I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me? Seriously? How? By torturing me? I’ve had it with how you treat me and I’m so sick of the piano!” At my words, Crusty’s face darkened. I realized the band had stopped playing and everyone was listening.

Involuntarily, I checked out Rafe. He was watching us, but I couldn’t read his face at all.

“Lily! Stop flirting with Rafe this instant.”

Oh, no.
Tell me she didn’t just say that.
Heat flared into my cheeks as Rafe’s expression morphed into surprise. He surreptitiously
peeked at the keyboard player, who was frowning at me.

Crusty leaned into my space, her breath like stale wind on my face. “You do not have time for boys,” she said. “Get back to the practice room. Now.”

I heard Angel snicker, and humiliation washed over me. How could Crusty embarrass me like that in front of them? Private torture was one thing, but in front of
them
? It was too much. Unforgivable. “Get away from me,” I hissed.

Then I turned and stormed outside.

I stalked out to the front porch of the gorgeous brick house that now housed the nightmare of Mueller-Fordham and sat down on the top step. My mom wasn’t due for another hour, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t moving.

I hugged my arms to my chest and dropped my forehead to my knees, preparing for Crusty to come after me. The front door squeaked and I immediately lifted my head and started humming JamieX, wiggling my shoulders with the beat. Yeah, look at me, dancing away because I didn’t care about anything.

“You okay?” Rafe asked.

Rafe? I jerked my gaze up at him in surprise. What was he doing out here? But he was definitely standing beside me, his black sneakers right next to my hip. “Yeah. Fine.” Maybe not quite fine, but pretty close, now that he was here.

He sat down next to me, so close we almost touched. Not quite, but
thisclose
. “That was kinda cool,” he said.

I slid a glance at him, but he was watching a sports car drive by. “What was cool? The car?”

He laughed softly and looked at me. His green eyes were friendly, and his smile was nice. Not mocking. “No. You telling Aunt Joyce off.”

“Oh.” A feeling of warmth flickered through me. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

He bumped his shoulder with mine. “Don’t take her personally. She’s not that bad if you know her.”

I snorted. “She’s been teaching me for three years and I’ve never seen anything good about her.” There were footsteps behind us, and I glanced back over my shoulder, expecting to see Crusty standing at the door listening, but there was no one there. I thought I saw the faint outline of her at the back of the hallway, but I wasn’t sure. Why wasn’t she racing out the door with a straight jacket to drag me back inside?

He shrugged. “My aunt can be okay.”

Uh, oh. I’d forgotten she was his aunt. I tried to recover. “I’m sure she can be, but I don’t bring it out in her. I disappoint her all the time.”

“Maybe.” Rafe fell silent, and I didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t feel like an awkward silence. It felt sort of comfortable. “You need a ride?” he asked.

I almost choked on my tongue. “What?”

“A ride. You need one? Paige had to leave early, so we’re calling it a night. Angel and Chris hate to practice without a keyboard player.”

I had to count to five just to get enough composure to sound calm when I answered him. “Yeah, a ride would be great.” My heart was racing so fast that my chest actually hurt. “I just need to run inside and call my mom...”

He set a phone in my hand, his fingers brushing against my palm. My hand was shaking as I dialed. He had a car
and
a phone
and
was giving me a ride home? I swallowed hard and managed to talk when my mom answered her phone. “Mom, it’s me. I got done early with my lesson, so Cru— Miss Jespersen’s nephew is giving me a ride home. Is that okay?”

My mom wasn’t an idiot. “Why is your lesson over early?”

“Miss Jespersen went insane and had to be carted off in an ambulance.”

“Lily,” my mom warned.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll tell you later. Gotta go. Bye.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Rafe. His fingers grazed my hand again as he took the phone, and I felt my skin tingle where he’d touched it. I was never going to wash it again.
Ever.

“Ready?” He stood up and held out his hand to pull me to my feet.

I stared at his hand. Was I really supposed to take it? Was that what he was offering? I didn’t want to look like a dork if it wasn’t, but I was pretty sure that’s what he intended. Cautiously, I lifted my hand. He grabbed it and tugged me up. For what felt like forever, we stood there. It was almost as if we were holding hands, our bodies less than a foot apart...then he let go, spun around and jumped down all the steps in one leap. “Let’s go, then.”

Yes, indeed. Let’s go!

* * *

Rafe swung into a black Jeep parked at the end of the lot. There was no top on the Jeep, just a roll bar and sunshine. “Climb in.”

Oh, wow. This was so awesome. I stepped onto the running board and pulled myself into the passenger seat, plopping down next to him. The dash and seats were all black, and there was a three inch blue and yellow peace symbol hanging from the rear view mirror. “Love the car.”

“It’s a guilt present.” He started the engine and put on his seatbelt. “Where to?”

I gave him directions as I tugged on my own seatbelt, making sure it didn’t mess up my scoop-neck white tank with the cool embroidery around the collar. I’d picked it out hoping I might run into Rafe. Point for me. “What’s a guilt present?”