We Only Fake It on the Weekends

It started as a deal. A favor between old friends. It ended with me in his kitchen, wearing only his shirt, wondering how the hell I got here.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the barbecue.

Hailey’s backyard smelled like freshly cut grass and cheap beer. The same people. The same playlist Cole had been “curating” since 2019—because apparently good music didn’t expire.

AC/DC was blasting from the Bluetooth speaker when I walked through the gate.

Thunderstruck.

Of course.

I’d sat in my car for ten minutes before coming in. Texted Hailey twice that I was “almost there.” Checked my makeup in the rearview mirror. Put my phone face-down on the passenger seat. Picked it up again.

Hailey spotted me before I made it three steps into the yard. She crossed the grass in that efficient way of hers, already reading my face.

“You made it!” She pulled me into a hug—tight, real, the kind that actually meant something. “I was starting to think you’d bail.”

“I texted you I was coming.”

“You text that every time.” She pulled back, studying me. “And yet.”

Behind her, Nate was manning the grill with the kind of focus usually reserved for neurosurgeons. They’d been married two years now. House, backyard, a gas grill with four burners. The whole domestic shit, and somehow on Hailey it didn’t look boring. It looked like something she’d built on purpose.

The yard was already full—or as full as our group ever got. Cole tried to backseat-barbecue, gesturing to Nate with his beer. Ryan laughing too loud at something on his phone. Theo stood beside him, shaking his head at whatever was on the screen. I looked away before he could look up.

Melissa was holding court by the patio table with the girls, wine glass in hand, mid-story about something that had happened at her office.

“Tessa!” She spotted me and waved me over. “Come here, you have to hear this.”

I walked over. Smiled at the right moments. Laughed when everyone else laughed.

That’s the thing about our group—we weren’t really friends. We just kept showing up. Same town. Same city. Same barbecues.

Starting over at twenty-eight felt harder than pretending this was enough.

The story ended. Another one started. I half-listened, letting my gaze drift across the yard, mentally cataloging the same faces I’d known for years.

And then I saw him.

Charles.

He was standing by the cooler, talking to Nate, holding a beer like a prop in a photoshoot. Clean-cut, catalog-handsome, wearing that expression of studied casualness he’d perfected sometime around junior year of college. The kind of guy your mom would call “a catch” and your gut would call “a question mark.”

The beer in my hand got heavier.

I turned to Melissa. “You invited Charles?”

She had the decency to look slightly guilty. Slightly.

“I thought you knew.”

“How would I know? We broke up.”

“Exactly.” She lowered her voice, leaning in like she was sharing a secret. “Tessa, it’s been weeks. You need to do something. And maybe doing something is doing him, you know? Or talking things out. He misses you.”

I stared at her. Turned my glass in both hands. Once. Twice.

She wouldn’t have invited him if she knew what actually happened.

But she didn’t know. I’d never told anyone. Our group was held together with habit and proximity. Adding my drama to the mix felt like pulling a thread that would unravel the whole thing. And for what? So everyone could feel awkward? No, thank you.

“He’s a good guy,” Melissa was saying. “You two look so good together.”

Something hit me before I could placed it—cedar and synthetic musk. My stomach turned.

I used to like that smell.

“Tessa.”

His voice. Behind me.

I turned. Charles was standing there with that apologetic half-smile, the one he’d been wearing every time he saw me lately. Patient. Hopeful. Like he hadn’t done anything that bad but was ready to take the blame anyway.

“Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

I looked at Melissa. She gave me an encouraging nod and evaporated toward the drink table.

“Fine,” I said. “Talk.”

We walked to the edge of the yard, away from the music and the smoke and everyone pretending not to watch us.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Charles started. “About us.”

“Charles—”

“Just hear me out.” He put his hands in his pockets, going for earnest. “I know things ended badly. I know I hurt you. But we were good together, Tess.”

“I’m not looking to get back together.”

“I’m not asking you to. Not yet.” He paused, and something calculating flickered behind his eyes. “But Emma’s wedding is in a week. I know you don’t have a date.”

“How do you know that?”

“Melissa mentioned—”

Of course she did.

“—and I thought maybe we could go together. As friends. No pressure. Just see how it feels.”

I wanted to laugh. Friends. Like I could sit next to him for five hours and not think about what I saw. Like I could pose for pictures and make small talk and pretend my skin wasn’t crawling the whole time.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Because I trusted you. Because I saw what I saw. Because I see it every time I look at your stupid face.

“I just don’t,” I said.

He nodded. Patient. So goddamn patient, like he was humoring a child having a tantrum.

“I haven’t told them yet,” he tried again. “That we’re coming separately. You probably haven’t either, right?” A pause. That smile—the one I used to find charming. “It’ll be easier this way, Tess. For both of us.”

He smiled like he was offering me a solution. Like I just hadn’t thought hard enough. So I did the only thing I could.

“Actually, I already called Emma.”

I didn’t.

“I’m going with someone.”

I’m not.

He was trying to read me, figure out if I was bluffing. Surprise flickered across his face, then doubt.

I held his gaze. Didn’t blink.

“I have to go,” I said.

I turned and walked away before he could answer.

I needed to move.

Needed air.

Needed to not be standing in this spot for one more second.

And a second later I walked straight into a wall.

Except it wasn’t a wall.

“Whoa—” Hands caught my shoulders, steadying me before I could stumble.

I looked up.

Theo.

My hands were flat against his chest, and somehow feeling him under my palms was steady enough to ground me. He smelled like sandalwood and something warmer underneath that I didn’t have a name for but it felt peaceful somehow.

I stepped back before I could finish the thought.

“I’m fine.” My face was burning. “Sorry. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I noticed.” His mouth twitched—almost a smile. “You were running pretty fast.”

“I wasn’t running. I was walking. With purpose.”

“Uh huh.” He raised an eyebrow. “Away from Charles?”

“You saw that?”

“Hard to miss.” He took a sip of his beer. “He had the whole earnest-hands-in-pockets thing going. Very romantic comedy.”

A surprised laugh escaped me. “That’s… actually accurate.”

“The head tilt. The meaningful eye contact. I’m pretty sure he practiced in a mirror.”

“Oh my god, stop.”

“I’m just saying, if Hallmark needs a leading man—”

“I’m going to walk away now.”

“You tried that already. It went poorly.”

I shook my head, but I was smiling. Actually smiling, for the first time all day. The tightness in my chest loosened, just a little.

Suddenly the music changed. The opening riff of TNT crackled through the speakers.

We both looked toward Cole, who was doing a terrible air guitar.

Then we looked at each other.

A flicker of recognition passed between us. Memory.

“Great song,” Theo said.

“Yeah.”

“Takes you back.”

“It really does.”

I remembered his bedroom.

Us jumping on his bed until his mom yelled.

Us laughing too hard to stop.

And then him falling off, hitting the ground so hard it made a scar. You can see it even today if you know exactly where to look.

The smile faded from his face. Then from mine.

“I should get back,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward Ryan. “Make sure nothing’s on fire.”

“Right.” My voice came out strange. “Yeah.”

He nodded once. Walked away.

I watched him go, my hands still tingling where they’d pressed against his chest.

I looked down at them.

Emma’s wedding was in a week.

Apparently, so was my deadline to get a new boyfriend.