The Art of Pretending

Colette

"I don't know," I say, my legs sprawled out in front of me as I lean against the lockers.

"Please?" Caleb Anderson, my boyfriend since freshman year, asks, taking hold of my hands. Bringing one of them up to his mouth, he kisses the back of my hand.

"Caleb," I say, swiftly pulling my hands away. "I don't want to be embarrassed. Not again."

"You won't!" he insists, his voice almost whiny. "Not this time. I promise."

"You promise?"

"I do," he nods, extending his pinky finger toward me. "Pinky promise."

I raise a brow, staring questioningly at his finger. When I glance up and see the urgency glazed across his warm brown eyes, I accept defeat.

"Hm," I acknowledge, intertwining my finger with his. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

"Thank you," he sighs in relief, shaking my hand up and down, before turning around and practically running toward the direction of his teammates. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, yeah," I call out to him. "I mean it this time, Caleb! If I'm going to this stupid party I don't want to be left alone again!"

"You got it!"

As Caleb disappears down the hallway, I exhale sharply. The usual end-of-the-day chatter buzzes through the hallways as I drop my head back and close my eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?" a familiar voice drawls.

I don't need to open my eyes to know that it's Noah Callahan, his voice laced with amusement.

Blinking my eyes open and squinting from the artificial lighting, I settle on his figure in front of me. Wearing a black hoodie and a pair of baggy, light wash jeans, silver chains hanging from his neck, he stares down at me with his usual cocky demeanor.

For years, Noah Callahan has been a persistent and annoyingly present figure in my life. Having befriended my brother, Caelan, as a child, I've lost count of the amount of back-and-forths we've shared and dinners he's spent at my house over the years.

"Don't you have groupies to attend to?" I ask, eyeing him up and down. "Golden boy duties, and all."

"Figured I'd take a break," he says, his smile unbearably obnoxious yet undeniably attractive at the same time. "Don't you enjoy my company?"

"Quite the opposite, actually," I remark.

He gasps, dramatically clutching at his chest in mock-devastation. "Ouch. You wound me, Adams."

I roll my eyes, pushing myself from the lockers before staring up at him. My legs are long and yet he still towers over me.

"Surely you have better places to be," I say, adjusting the strap on my backpack. "Where's your ever-devoted girlfriend? Maybe your poor, fragile ego won't get wounded there."

He chuckles, strands of his sun kissed, golden brown hair falling against his forehead. Turning around, I begin to walk toward the front doors of the school.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway is my first indication that he's following me, the smell of cedar wood and faint vanilla the second.

"Are you stalking me, Callahan?" I tease as he falls into step beside me.

"Only if you want me to," he taunts, pushing the door and stepping in front of me to hold it open with his body. When I step outside, feeling the slight summer breeze weave through my hair, Noah nods back toward where Caleb disappeared. "Where's loverboy running off to in such a rush?"

I scoff. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Not really," he says, car keys in hand as he extends his arm and unlocks the doors to his car. Smiling, he turns around to face me. "I just want to know what had you looking so worked up back there."

"I was thinking about you," I reply, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"I'm flattered," he says. "Careful, Adams, or I might think you're flirting with me."

"Keep dreaming, golden boy!" I call over my shoulder. 

"Hey!" he calls out. "Will I be seeing you at the party tonight?"

"Unfortunately!" I call back, walking away from him and toward the direction of my house.

On days like these, when the weather is warm and the breeze is cool, I walk home. Luckily for me, my house is a short walking distance to and from my school—Maple Valley. Luckily for my family—who has witnessed firsthand how horrendous my driving skills are—I enjoy the time alone.

The quiet is nice. No Caleb with his stupid backhanded apologies, no annoyingly perfect Noah and his equally obnoxious girlfriend, and no Caelan, who lacks the decency to talk to his poor sister alone at a party. Just me and my overwhelming thoughts.

As my house, same as it always is, falls into view, I take my last breath of spring and car exhaust before pushing my house key into the key hole and twisting it.

Like clockwork, I am greeted with deafening barks and slobbered kisses from my dog, Cooper, as I walk through the front door.

Untying my scuffed up converse, I kick them off my feet and neatly place them on the shoe rack before heading to the kitchen where Mac Miller is playing softly from the speakers.

Standing behind the kitchen island, nodding his head to the mellow rhythm, is Caelan. His head is ducked slightly toward a bowl of salad in his hands, and from this angle, his black hair falls just enough to momentarily shield his dark brown eyes.

"You're home early," he says, swallowing down a mouthful of salad. "I figured you'd be over at Caleb's before the game."

I sigh, dropping my backpack onto the floor and plopping onto the stool across from him.

"Caleb's out with some of your hotshot teammates," I spit out. "I'm meeting up with him at the party later tonight."

"You're going to that?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you said last time was the last time after he practically ignored you the whole night?"

"Oh please," I scoff. "Like you were any better. You saw me standing there all alone and didn't even try to talk to me!"

"Colette," he says, placing his bowl of salad on the kitchen island, his expression softening with guilt. "I honestly had no idea you were alone that night. I would've talked to you—or atleast offered you a ride home. I'm sorry." He pauses, his tone slightly firmer. "Plus, if it's any consolation, Noah and I set him straight at practice."

"Hm," I say, tilting my head to the side. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

He nods his head, shoveling another forkful of salad into his mouth. I've never had a problem with accepting apologies—especially when they're genuine. Even a half-hearted apology is better than silence. Or bitterness.

I stay quiet as the music hums and Caelan leans against the counter.

I don't know why I continue to give Caleb the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe it's because I'm still waiting for him to see me the way I see him.

Or, maybe it's because, deep down, I still think I deserve less.

Either way, he's never had to chase me.

And maybe that's the problem.

Maybe I made it too easy to forget I was ever worth fighting for.