Fake It ‘Til You Break It
: Chapter 7

“Demi,” Miranda, my school dance coach, calls. “Get lower on the second count, your booty needs to be an inch from your ankles. You’re the most flexible person in here, don’t go half ass on me.” She claps and moves to the next group.

My friend Ava looks at me sticking her tongue out as she rolls her eyes making me laugh.

Miranda is a stickler for perfection, but it’s good. It’s what I want, so I like when she calls me out if I’m being lazy. Today, though, I’m so exhausted I almost wish she wouldn’t.

Thankfully, it’s only a forty-five-minute practice we squeeze in a few days a week before school begins, and it passes quickly.

I rinse in the showers and get ready as fast as I can and then meet Carley and the girls in the parking lot.

Krista hands me an iced coffee the second I approach.

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

“Yep.” Krista spins back to her car, pulling out a stack of lanyards with keycards hanging from the ends, little shot glasses clipped on as well, and waves them around.

“My dad brought these home last night!” she squeals. “I added the shot glasses, obviously, but check it out! We’ll have separate rooms, each of ours is adjoining so we can open the middle doors if we want, but Trent is totally sleeping in mine, so that door will not be opened often.” She gives a Cheshire Cat grin. “Unless someone wants to see what I’ve taught him—”

“Okay, enough of that.” I laugh. “Keep your door locked, please.”

“And maybe leave your TV on,” Macy suggests, making me laugh harder.

Krista glares at her a second but then laughs with us. “Yeah, maybe I should. I’ll be drinking so, things could get a little extra, but anyway, jerks, we’re all set to head out first thing in the morning! I’ll hand the cards out there as people start arriving, but ours and a couple others are in a separate baggy with our names on them.”

“Sounds good.” I nod, I assume she explained all this to the girls last night.

“What time did your mom show?” Carley asks me.

I consider lying, but in case someone saw and mentions it, I admit, “She didn’t. Nico actually drove me home.”

“Say what?” Macy slides up, ready for some gossip.

“Literally a ride, practically silent.”

“It’s happening!” she sing-songs, but I walk away, leaving them there laughing.

“Bye, assholes. See you at lunch.”

When I woke up this morning, having accidentally fallen asleep the night before, I expected a text from Alex to be waiting for me on my phone, but there wasn’t one.

Turned out, while I fell asleep, he changed his mind.

I walk into leadership expecting him to talk to me about last night, but we end up working on different projects, so the chance never comes, and the day quickly rolls on from there.

In chemistry, Mr. Brando passes out a quick, three question pop quiz the second we walk in. It only takes five minutes of class time and then we’re off for another ‘bonding session’, this time in the library.

Nico, of course, moves quicker than me and is around the corner before I’m even fully out of the classroom, which would have been perfect if Alex hung back, but he made it down the hall before me, too.

Now I’m left with no choice but to search for Nico and sit wherever he chose.

I walk through the double doors of the large, brick building, my footsteps slowing when I spot Sandra sitting on the edge of the check-out desk, Alex leaning against it right beside her.

Her eyes lift as I attempt to sneak by, and she smiles brightly. “Hey, Demi. Welcome.” She waves.

Alex glances over his shoulder smiling as well, so I give a tight grin back and I hurry past.

Does Alex know she’s fucking Nico?

Or wait, was fucking Nico if I correctly interpreted his quick and unexplained ‘I’m not’ last night.

And, really? All I get is a smile after he said he was coming over last night?

Whatever.

I shake off the irritation. It was last minute, so not really a big deal, but he should at least say something.

I make my way past the computers, and then the study group areas, and even the darker, more deserted parts of the library I’d expect him to be, but he’s nowhere to be found.

When I come back around the opposite side, Alex and Evan are getting seated and I have to walk straight past them.

Alex’s head lifts and he falters slightly, but then stands and turns to me.

“Hey.” He grins.

My eyes instantly snap to the black rim of his left one and narrow.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

He gives a light chuckle. “Name of the game.”

Except you didn’t play yesterday.

“Looks like it hurts.”

“It didn’t.” His response is quick and sharp, to the point where I’m almost positive he took it as an insult, but he quickly shakes it off.

“Hey, so sorry about last night,” he apologizes, though his tone doesn’t quite back up his words.

I don’t say anything right away, assuming an explanation will follow, but when he simply stands there, I shake my head. “Oh, you’re fine. I fell asleep as soon as I got home, so I’d have missed you anyway, but I better go. I need to replace Nico.”

Alex laughs lightly, glancing behind him quickly. “How is it being Nico’s partner?”

“Pretty uneventful,” I say.

“Really?” He eyes me, almost unbelieving.

He expected a different answer?

“So you guys don’t get along, then?” he coaxes.

Is that what I’d call it? I don’t think so…

“He’s not much for talking is all, so it’s a little hard sometimes.”

Alex nods. “Yeah, that sucks. Well hey, the reason I called last night was to ask a question about our assignment, but I figured it out so…” He nods again.

I blanch a moment and consider reminding him we didn’t have an assignment, but I’m not about to make this more awkward than it already is.

“No worry,” I tell him, and I can’t get away quick enough.

Once I’m back in the middle of the study area, I pause, still not spotting my flyaway partner.

Right when I’m about to give up and take a damn seat, a flash of his unruly hair catches my eye.

Nico holds his fingers to his lips, a deep frown etched across his forehead, and tips his chin, calling me to him.

I glance back at the front desk.

Clearly Sandra is the TA this period and I don’t see anyone else around, so I slip into the long, empty hallway he’s hiding in.

Nico pushes open a custodial door, and motions for me to go, but when I glare, shaking my head, he grabs my hand and pulls me through with him, letting the door close behind us as he steps ahead.

“Where does this lead?” I whisper, climbing the stairs.

“Roof. Obviously.”

I roll my eyes at his back.

Obviously.

He opens the door at the top of the stairwell, grabbing a brick laying just outside, and uses it to help prop it open.

I step out, glancing around as I walk toward the edge, and lean over slightly to look down.

Instantly, large, strong hands replace my hips, and I’m jerked back.

I inhale sharply, meeting Nico’s barren eyes over my shoulder.

Being on the taller side, I’m surprised by how small I still seem against him.

Maybe it’s the way he has me barricaded between his wide shoulders that has me feeling delicate.

His dark gaze is displeased, but a concealed sentiment lines his brow. “Don’t be dumb,” he finally grinds out.

“I wasn’t gonna fall.”

“Nobody means to fall when they fall. It’s called an accident.”

I stare, my eyes lowering to Nico’s bruise.

Wait.

Both Nico and Alex have fresh markings on their faces?

“What happened to your eye?”

He glares down his nose, but his fingers twitch against my hips. “Don’t worry about it.”

Right. We’re not friends, why would he tell me?

“You can let go of me now, pretty sure I’m no longer at risk of plummeting to my death.”

In no kind of hurry, he loosens his grip, his hands dropping to his sides as he steps away, nodding for me to follow him to the other side.

We round the air conditioning units to the opposite end of the building where there’re crates stacked up. They’re raised maybe three feet high, and a solid ten feet from the ledge, a few lawn chairs that look like they might have been nailed down on top of those allowing you to see over the side without being anywhere near it.

It’s a perfect view of the entire football field, and right at the fifty.

It’s not super close, maybe a hundred yards away, but I’d bet, at night, when the lights are on, it’s still a really clear view.

Right now, we can see people running the track during their PE hour.

“This is awesome,” I say more to myself than him.

When I go to turn around, a high stool pushed against the brick building at the other end catches my attention.

I take the few steps off the platforms, and walk over, grabbing onto the back of the seat and look out. My forehead puckers immediately, and I swing my gaze to Nico who is standing where I left him, observing me with open, yet somehow still unreadable eyes.

Slowly, he drops into one of the seats. When his chin raises slightly, I break contact and focus forward again. I step toward the ledge, placing my hands on the edge of the brick but I don’t lean this time.

I trail every inch of the garden I helped plant my freshman year. The flowers were purposely placed in the shape of a crescent, leaving a large opening of fresh, plush grass in the center and facing the glass wall of the library, giving those inside who chose a window seat, the perfect scenery should they need a minute to breathe.

Me, though, I use it after hours.

Around four or five in the afternoon the sun is positioned against the building just right, allowing for the windows to work as mirrors.

Perfect place for a dancer to work.

It’s secluded, uninterrupted. Beautiful.

Leadership chose this side of the school for the garden because there are no classes on this side of the campus, meaning no foot traffic to destroy our hard work.

My eyes fall to the stool and then shift to Nico who is leaning carelessly in his chair, squinting my way.

Does this mean he’s watched me practice?

I head his way, settling into the seat across from him.

After a few minutes of neither of us speaking, I ask, “Are you going to Krista’s birthday thing this weekend?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?”

With a sigh, I glance across the little set up again and confirm the chairs are in fact nailed to the wood. “Did you bring this stuff up?”

He shakes his head. “Found it freshman year. I guess some teachers used to sneak up here to smoke, but I’ve been coming up for years and nothing’s touched or moved from how I leave it, so I don’t think they do anymore.” A sudden frown covers his face. “If people hear about this spot, they’ll start locking the door.”

I regard him a moment before looking off. He wouldn’t have brought me up here if he thought I’d rat him out.

“I’m not going to mess up your chill spot, Nico. I have one of my own, and I would be mad if someone ruined it for me.”

“The attic left of the theater stage.”

My head snaps his way. “How do you know that?”

He doesn’t say anything but continues staring with a deliberate emptiness.

“Did Trent tell you?”

That has him blinking hard, and slowly, he leans forward, placing his forearms on his knees as he delivers his question with an icy tone. “And how would Trent know?”

My skin prickles at the sudden shift in him.

It’s strange, his expression remains completely blank, but his eyes…

Anger?

Frustration?

Maybe.

“You know his mom and mine are friends.”

“And that means he knows where you like to go when you get pissed off or annoyed, or just want a fucking break from having to pretend you’re perfect all the time?” he spits, his word choice making it seem as if he knows and understands what goes on in my head.

He couldn’t possibly.

I ignore the sudden thickness in the air surrounding us.

“I’m far from perfect,” I defend myself, affectively changing the subject.

“I know,” he says quickly. “That’s why I said trying to be.”

I glare. “I don’t—”

“Yeah you do,” he challenges. “You’re always at school early, don’t leave until late. You have perfect grades and still do extra credit, have had perfect attendance since forever. You say hi to everyone you pass, offer to help more people than you should or even have time for.” He tilts his head. “You just smiled and waved at the chick the dude you’re hot for wants to fuck, or already has by now.”

“You make me sound like some goody-goody, praise chaser. That’s not who I am.”

“Is everything I just said not true?”

My lips form a tight line and I look away.

I’m not about to tell him I have to do well to appease my mom or that I want to just as much so I can get the hell out of my house and be able to say I did it on my own. Not that he’d care to hear it.

I keep my response simple for his arrogant, hypercritical, ass.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do well in school and being nice to other people is the right thing to do. As far as Sandra goes, she’s her own person and Alex isn’t mine,” I snap. “So, yeah. I was nice and I’ll continue to be.”

“Why?”

My eyes fly to his. “Because.”

“You think you’ll get that asshole’s attention by being nice? Tell me, D, how nice were you to him last night?” His lip practically curls.

I must give myself away, because a dark chuckle leaves Nico.

He shifts, leaning to the right more. “He didn’t show.”

When I don’t say anything, he shakes his head. “Yet you’ll still chase him, won’t you?”

What is it with this guy?

“It’s not like my entire goal is to become Alex Hammons’ girlfriend,” I bite out.

His face twists. “Isn’t it?”

I jerk forward in my seat, pissed off.

“I like him, sure. I’d like someone to go with to all the fun senior shit this year, duh, but I don’t feel the need to have to be a bitch to harmless people to make that happen.” My brows jump. “You want to sit here and pretend to know me so well, but if you think for a second, I’m the type who will become what she thinks someone else wants in order to gain, you’re wrong. What purpose would it serve to have him if I can’t even be me?” I ask, but not for a reply. “If he doesn’t like me the way I am, oh fucking well.”

Pretty sure he might though, dick!

I don’t tell him that.

Nico glares, but yet again, there’s an unexpected change in him.

Suddenly, his eyes are less sure, of what, I can’t even pretend to understand.

In the next second the timer on my phone goes off, and I shoot from the chair, eager to get the hell out of here. “We need to go back down, there’s only ten minutes left, and Mr. Brando might start looking for us.”

He doesn’t move, his gaze dark and measuring.

Finally, he pushes to his feet, stepping toward me until he’s directly in front of me, my entire body wrapped in a shadow of his own.

He stands there, blank faced with a heavy fog of vexation surrounding him, making it hard to breathe.

Nico remains closed-lipped for a solid thirty seconds, and then finally he slips past, his chest brushing mine with carelessness as he does.

Only when the scrape of the brick across the cement replaces my ears do I realize I’m frozen where he left me.

A ragged exhale leaves me, and I clear my throat as I step through the frame, leaving him to follow.

I jolt when the door slams behind me, Nico on the opposite side.

I take my time driving home, putting a frozen casserole in the oven for dinner the minute I step inside, and then get busy with my homework.

I’ve already eaten and am finishing up my weekend assignments when the front door opens and shuts downstairs, my mom’s voice easily heard as she argues with someone on the phone.

Why is she home?

It’s just after eight when she gets here, but the knock on my door doesn’t come for another twenty minutes.

“It’s unlocked,” I call out, already dreading her entry.

My mom opens the door, glancing around the room before her eyes fall on me sitting in my window seat, surrounded by textbooks and papers.

She walks in, picks up the remote to my TV and turns it off.

“Always studying.” She links her hands in front of her.

I swear, she’s the hardest woman to please. She wants me to be Miss Socialite and the future fucking President while having no clue which she wants more.

If I didn’t get all this out of the way now, then I’d be forced to do it at the beach sometime this weekend.

“Hi to you, too,” I mock, looking back to my paper.

“Oh, stop. I saw you before school yesterday.”

Because that’s enough for us both.

She moves closer to my bookshelf, running her finger across it and frowning at the dust. “I was thinking about this party of Krista’s.”

My brain freezes mid-word and I lift my eyes to her.

She raises her chin. “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea you go.”

I set my notebook beside me, turning to face her better.

Really? She’s doing this without an audience?

“We leave in less than twelve hours and you already said I could.”

“Well, I’m rethinking my answer. I’m your mother, I’m allowed.”

“But, why?”

“For one, I didn’t realize Monday was a furlough day, giving you guys extra time off. Three days is a lot for kids to be running around unsupervised. God knows what will happen there.”

You don’t even know what goes on here!

“You know Krista’s dad is extra cautious, there will be security all over the place, and he’ll be right down the street.”

“Still.” She reaches past me, closing my curtains and cutting off the view I had of the stars. “I have concerns. It’s not like you have someone to watch and protect you.”

My face scrunches. “Is that not the purpose of security?”

“Don’t be cunning. Don’t you think it’s strange that you’re a senior, you hardly date, and you’re always home?”

I want to ask her how she would know but decide against it. “No. I don’t.”

“Well, I do. You have a pretty face, fit body, and great grades,” she sums me up with little to no passion. “You need an arm to hold on to.”

“Says the person who constantly reminds me I never want to have to depend on anyone and not to make her same mistake and get pregnant in high school.”

She blinks. “Birth control is your friend, daughter. It’s why you’ve been on it since sophomore year, and there is a difference between needing someone and having someone. You should never need, but you should have what would suit you well.” She pretends to be focusing on my trophy case. “I spent some time with Clara tonight.”

Clara, being Trent’s mom.

Of course.

I shake my head, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “Don’t start with this again.”

“We don’t understand why you and Trent aren’t together, is all.”

“Because we don’t like each other.”

“Relationships don’t always begin that way, Demi.”

I gape at her. “I’m pretty sure they do.”

“Well, I think it’s time you reconsider. Spend some time with him.”

I jump to my feet. “He’s dating one of my best friends!”

“And your best friend, as you call her, is a harlot of a girl who is going nowhere in life and doesn’t deserve him. She’ll end up forced to join her parents in real estate.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if you want to gamble on the market to protect your future.”

“Her parents do well.”

“And Trent’s own an airline. Tell me how that girl is better suited for him than you?”

My mouth drops open, but nothing comes out, so I shake my head instead.

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

Krista is smart and gorgeous; she’s kind and respectful to her parents, wants to be a teacher and a mother, and doesn’t give a damn about the money her dad has. Does she enjoy spending it? Yes, but what seventeen – eighteen in days – wouldn’t when their father is willing to allow them to?

Not to mention, she was a virgin when she slept with Trent – not a harlot!

My mom is an asshole and has no room to talk.

She purses her lips. “I will let you go to this party, but I’m going to ask that maybe you and Trent take a little walk or try and get a few minutes alone.”

She’s a fucking nut.

“You don’t have to take it further, but this is your last year of school, and at some point, he’s going to leave her because he knows she’s not what he needs, and when that happens it needs to be you he thinks of, especially before you two end up at schools on opposite ends of the country.”

I move for my door, holding it open so she gets the hint I want her to leave. “I won’t, and you should stop saying things like this. All you’re going to do is make it awkward when I’m around him because I’ll feel guilty the entire time when I have no reason to. We’re friends, and if you want us to at least be that, then leave it alone.”

A sickening displeasure glares back at me as she walks my way, pausing before she exits. “Friendships should never trump futures.”

“Futures are supposed to be earned, mother, not gained by the choice of spouse.”

“Don’t judge me,” she bristles. “Your father was nothing when I met him.”

“Yeah, and neither were you.”

“If you’re not going to help yourself, Demi, I will help you.”

“Goodnight, Mom, or should I say goodbye, I assume you’re leaving again?”

She has the decency to look guilty, but only for a moment before her shoulders square. “I came to drop off my car, I’m riding with the girls to Wine Country. They’re waiting out front now.”

“Then you better go, and my day was good, thanks for asking.” I slam the door in her face and drop my head against it.

“Be smart and let me know when you get there,” she says, then her heels carry her back down the stairs and out the front.

I roll my eyes, put all my schoolwork away, and snag my phone. I make my way into the backyard, put on a freestyle playlist, and drop my phone onto a chair.

I take a few minutes to stretch, then when the song switches, I quickly shift to the center of the grass, facing the large windows.

Ne-Yo and Juicy J’s “She Knows” starts humming in my ears and my body begins to move as it pleases. Without thought or pressure.

Best feeling ever.

I dance through an entire playlist, only pausing when I’m interrupted by a phone call.

I take a quick drink of water, wiping my hands on a towel before picking it up.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Bad time?”

“No, it’s fine. I was just practicing.” I take another deep breath. “What’s up?”

“I got an alert from the bank,” he says with a short pause. “There was an overdraft on your account.”

I tense.

She did not.

I quickly walk into the house, tearing my wallet from my bag by the door.

“Demi.”

I pull back the side pocket and sure enough, my card is gone.

Damn it!

My hand falls and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t have a chance to… check the balance. I’m going out of town for Krista’s birthday tomorrow and…” I ramble off a lie, trying to cover when I wasn’t prepared.

“You’ve been spending more than normal,” he hedges, but I can’t bite.

I have to live with the woman, deal with her more often, which means if I’m lying to someone it unfortunately has to be him.

“I know, there’s just been so much happening around here lately. I can drive into the city next weekend, and work it off?” I offer.

My dad’s law firm is in downtown San Jose, a solid hour or more in traffic from where I am in Santa Cruz. He commuted back and forth for a long time but ended up buying a place closer a couple years ago.

He’s quiet for a moment, and I almost think he’s going to call me out on what he must know is a lie. He sees the statements and where the card is being used.

“No, honey,” he says quietly, the disappointment, maybe a little guilt, too, easily heard. “You don’t have to do that, but thank you for offering. Maybe be a little more conscious of your spending is all, you know, if you can.”

He totally knows it’s her.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Sorry again, Dad.”

“It’s all right. Will you check in with me over the weekend while you’re gone?”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you,” I tell him. “Bye.”

I hang up and drop my head back, sighing at the ceiling before glaring at my wallet.

She said she came home to drop off her car.

Bullshit.

I can’t wait until I’m away at college and she’s forced to reevaluate or fall flat on her ass.

Tossing my wallet back in my bag, I grab a blue Gatorade from the fridge, a blanket off the back of the couch, and go outside to lay on the large lounger. I pull the soft fleece over my legs, slip my hoodie on, and allow the music to play quietly beside me while I stare at the stars.

It’s well past midnight, my mind having only begun to clear of my own family issues, when the hushed argument of another’s floats over the fence.

“I’m not gonna allow this shit from you anymore,” Nico hisses.

Cold words from someone else follows. “And how does a punk kid like you plan to stop it?”

Mr. Sykes?

I haven’t seen him in years.

“I’m not a fuckin’ kid anymore, and I won’t stand here and watch you or your new wife destroy her all over again.”

Oh shit, the rumors are true. He did leave them and remarry.

“You think you could stop me if you tried?” A loud, clearly intoxicated laugh echoes. “Your mom will never let me go. She begs to see my face. When was the last time your ma’s even looked at you?”

“You wouldn’t know.” Nico’s voice is a deep rumble that has the hairs on my neck standing. “You keep her so doped up on pills she doesn’t even know what day it is half the time.”

Shit.

I reach for my earbuds, knowing I’ve already heard more than I should have.

“Get the fuck—”

Music fills my ears, cutting Nico’s words off.

It takes a few songs for my muscles to ease, and I close my eyes, letting the chilled September night’s air waft over my face.

Minutes later, my music stops.

I blindly reach for my phone, but when my hand replaces an empty space, my eyes pop open.

I jump.

Nico stands tall, his shadow wide and looming, my phone locked tight in his grip.

He glares, jaw clenched, beads of sweat covering his forehead. “You record that?”

My brows jump. “No.” I point to my phone and he tears his gaze from mine, forcing them to the screen. “Just music. I plugged in as soon as—”

“As soon as what?” he snaps. “Soon as it got too heavy for your textbook world?”

I prepare to argue, but the longer I look at him, I decide against it.

He’s stressed. Tense.

Tired?

My eyes fall to his shirt – torn at the sleeve and stretched at the collar – before moving right back to his.

His face hardens and he cuts his glare to the fence.

“Wanna talk?” I ask when maybe I shouldn’t.

He scoffs, shaking his head, still not looking back at me. “I give you one ride home, so you don’t have to walk in the fucking dark, and suddenly you assume I want to talk to you.”

I eye him and his nostrils flare.

He said after his games he doesn’t like talking. Maybe it’s the same with all intense situations for him?

“Good, I’m glad you’re not up for it.” I lift a shoulder and his gaze slowly slides sideways, back to mine as I scoot over on the double lounger, then lay back, gazing up at the sky once again. “You’re an asshole, and I don’t want to talk to you, either.”

He stands there, the heat of his heavy stare burning into the side of my face for a minute or two before a heavy scoff leaves him.

Nico drops beside me.

We lay there in the dark, staring at the stars.

Not talking.