Faking Us ✔️

twelve

Cassie
~

When I noticed my parents sitting not too far from Luca, I knew I had to rip the Band-Aid off. I had to introduce him as my boyfriend. They were shocked, just as much as he was. I smiled more into his neck when I wrapped my arms around him. The smell of his cologne was inviting.

"It's really nice to meet you, Luca." Dad said, giving him a firm handshake. He smiled at him and then noticed the welcoming smile on my mom's face. "It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Harlow," he replied.

"Please, call me Patrick."

I instantly walked over to Mom from the curiosity on her face. She asked me if he was Annie and Greg's boy and I nodded with sincerity. We haven't talked about his parents just yet, but the entire school knows what happened.

"Such a shame," she said, eyeing Dad and him. "Seems like such a sweet kid."

I swallowed hard before looking their way again, then when he smiled at me, I smiled back. "Yes, he is."

Mom touched my arm. "What happened with Marcus, sweetie? I didn't know you were even friends with him."

Her words toward Luca upset me more than asking about my ex-boyfriend. We've always been friends. Or so I thought.

"We were actually good friends in middle school, you just don't remember."

She nods. "Well, what happened?"

I didn't respond to her when they stepped toward us. I mentally thanked him for interrupting our conversation.

"Would you like to join us for dinner, Luca?" Mom asked. My eyes darted toward him, and he noticed the look on my face. I was basically telling him no.

"Uh, actually... we were going to study at my house if that's okay?"

Dad glanced at me. "Biology?"

I nodded. "Yes, I need the help."

He wants to say more but doesn't push it. "Of course. Text me when you're on your way home."

I hugged them goodbye and followed Luca to his truck. He opened the door for me, and my heart fluttered. Marcus never did that.

"Thank you," I managed to say before he closed the door and stepped around to the driver seat. When he started the ignition and left the parking lot, I cleared my throat. "But you didn't have to do that."

I could see him draw his eyebrows together.

"Do what?"

"Open the door for me."

He looked at me and grinned, just barely. "I know."

The drive wasn't long, maybe ten, fifteen minutes. We pulled into a nice, secluded neighborhood and his house was near the dead end. It was a small, brick home with blue shutters.

"Honey, how was the game?" an older lady with light gray hair and tortoise glasses spoke as we walked through the front door.

She was sitting in a dark leather recliner before meeting us in the kitchen. It was very small, probably the size of my bathroom. But it was definitely inviting. Bright yellow colors accented the entire room.