All About You

Ten

I t’s dark by the time I settle on a decision.

Marlon is sitting outside by himself on the garden chair swing, scrolling through his phone, a single bitten puto balances on his thighs.

Jaslene, if you want to back out, do it now, the intelligent voice in me says, but the one driven by insanity screams at me to keep going.

There are so many ways this could go wrong, the worst one being that Marlon could just laugh in my face and tell everyone. Even so, just one possibility of this terrible plan going right overrides my anxiety.

I’m pushing open the sliding door before I can find one last reason to throw the idea away.

Marlon doesn’t even seem to notice as I saunter up to him, his attention rigid on his screen.

God, here goes nothing.

I exhale every possible ounce of negative energy and delude myself into a bubble of zen. Then, I dive in.

“Hey Marlon,” I begin, straining my tone to appear sweet. I want to cringe at how I sound.

He looks up, surprised.

“Oh, you,” he says, brows perking up.

I don’t ask if I can join, and just plop down right beside him. The action makes the garden chair swing a little, and we both awkwardly stumble backwards, our hands reaching for the arm chairs to steady us.

Well, isn’t this just the greatest start?

“Well thanks for the turbulence,” he murmurs slyly and I bite back the urge to retort. Baby steps.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask, leaning back and mustering the best smile I could for him.

He doesn’t turn his head, but I can see his eyes move toward me.

“Swinging on this chair, on my phone.”

I’ll throw that phone away right now.

“What are you looking at on your phone?”’

At that, he lowers the device abruptly, turning to me. His brows are narrow, expression tiptoeing between confusion and scepticism.

“So, are you just obsessed with invading my privacy now? First the train, now this -”

Oh my gosh , this is going to be impossible.

I’m about to get up, declaring a failure to this plan, until movement through the kitchen window in front of us, just diagonal from where Marlon and I are, catches my peripheral vision. My gaze flickers in its direction.

It’s Mum and Tita Regina.

They’re observing us through the window. Mum’s eyes meet my own and upon realising I see them, they rapidly scramble, swivelling their bodies away. I could almost laugh.

Our Mum’s are actual teenagers trapped in 40-year-old bodies.

It hits me then. The confirmation that this could actually work.

They’re so gullible, willing to believe any little crumb when it comes to Marlon and I. Even something as stupid, as impossible, as fake-dating.

I turn back to Marlon, and drink in his appearance.

Sure, his curls are…nice. His lashes are long too, and his cheeks could be seen as objectively cute, I guess. He’s not… bad looking after all.

I could pretend to love him, I think.

I hope .

He catches my gaze just as he lifts his puto to his lips.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks, sarcastically.

As much as I’d love to knock the puto from his hands, I smile instead, and through my teeth, I say, “Pretend to say something funny.”

He perks an eyebrow.

“Heh?”

A spit of puto jumps from his lips. Ugh.

Pocketing my disgust, I laugh loudly, hitting his arm. The impact makes him drop the rest of his puto and we both watch as it bounces off the edge of the garden chair, falling to the floor in a pathetic splat.

Shooting me a glare, he exclaims, “What the hell?” at the same time I say, “Marlon, you're hilarious!”

At this he freezes. His eyes fall on me, scrutinising me as though I’m an alien. Which isn’t so far from how I feel.

“What are you doing…?” he questions, tone sliding over the words cautiously.

“Just play along, please. I promise this is the last thing I want to do,” I push the words through the sweetest smile I could bear.

His expression dances between amusement and uncertainty.

“What are our Mum’s doing?” I ask, breaking the unbearably awkward silence.

“What?”

“In the kitchen window. What are they doing? But don’t make it obvious you’re looking. And smile .”

Smoothly, Marlon reaches up to scratch his ear, glancing subtly toward the kitchen window, before resting his gaze back on mine.

“They’re giggling.”

“Good.”

He turns his attention back to the puto on the ground, and his bottom lip juts out. I roll my eyes.

“Get another one inside you sulk, there’s plenty.”

“But that was a good one, Garcia,” he mumbles, a childish whine in his voice. He tilts his head toward me, narrowing his eyes, “Tell me again why I lost my perfectly good puto over whatever the hell you’re doing? Which is what, by the way?”

I open my mouth, ready to explain everything to Marlon, but the words get tangled in my mess of a brain. He shifts his head forward, prodding for me to speak.

There’s no way I could make sense of all of this right now in the middle of this engagement party.

“I - uh,” I stammer, before clearing my throat, “I’ll explain later. Just - Just trust me, please?”

This is the first time I’ve ever pleaded with Marlon.

I don’t like it. It makes me feel all…icky, but I remind myself why I’m doing it.

Marlon lingers on my face, and my cheeks begin to grow warm as humiliation floods over me. All my prior confidence drains itself from my body.

Who was I to think this could work, not when it involved stupid Marlon Salva-

“Okay,” he says, with a rigid nod. “Whatever you say, Garcia.”

Wait, what? Did I hear him right?

He must have caught the surprise on my face, because he lifts a brow.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I mean, I didn’t think you’d agree so easily. Especially with me.”

“Well, you’d definitely never do this in a million years if you didn’t have a desperately good reason why. So for now, I trust you, but you owe me the biggest explanation.”

I nod slowly, uncertain of what to say. Honestly, his compliance is the last thing I thought would happen. Gratefulness settles on me like snow.

“Uh, well, thank you.”

I lift my hands, but pause. If we were friends, I’d reach forward and pat his arm or something, but we’re not, so I pull my hands back and wring them together unnaturally. Marlon notices this and rolls his eyes at my awkwardness.

“Whatever. You owe me, remember that. I’m also throwing in some food with that, so you owe me an explanation and food.”

Leave it to Marlon to ruin a decent moment. With that, he gets up from the chair making it swing again, and I rock back and forth with it as he goes back inside.

Maybe this could actually work.

For the first time in what feels like ever, Marlon Salvador makes me smile.

Later on, after most of the guests had already trickled out and it was just my family left to assist in the clean up, Ria creeps up on me. I’m in the middle of grabbing a serving of palabok into the takeaway container, when her head pops up beside my shoulder.

“I saw you with Marlon earlier.”

Her voice startles me, and I flinch a little, my shoulder hitting her chin. She pulls back, rubbing her jaw.

“You scared me!” I exclaim. At least none of the palabok flew from my container. I place it down, and glance around, ensuring our parents aren't near. They must be chatting with Tita Bea and Jonathan elsewhere in the house.

When I turn back to Ria, I say, “Marlon and I are going to fake date.”

Ria’s expression glitches for a moment, opening her mouth once, before closing it. Then, she opens it again, “You’re kidding me!”

I wince a little at her raised voice, and motion for her to keep it down. Her eyes are wide now, looking at me as though I was out of my mind. Sums up how I feel.

“What do you mean you’re going to fake date him?” she asks, quieter this time.

“Exactly that,” I respond, because how else do I put it? “You know, the whole deal. We’re going to pretend we’re dating. Like Lara Jean and Peter, Simon and Daphne but definitely minus the whole falling in love part, obviously.”

I shudder at the thought.

Ria is still looking at me like I’m an alien.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, swatting at her arm, “You gave me the idea.”

She throws her arms up, exasperated.

“When on Earth did I tell you to fake date Marlon.”

“The other night! After we came home from Lolo and Lola’s house! You said I had to think of something to trick the family, to, you know, make them stop trying to set up Marlon and I somehow…”

Ria’s head tilts, recalling the conversation. That’s when her eyebrows perk up.

“ Ate… it wasn’t an idea, that was a joke .”

Heat creeps up my neck, my stomach churning as Ria’s words settle over me.

Earlier before, when I’d come back in from outside, Mum had asked me what Marlon and I were talking about. I simply told her we were just catching up. I tried to pass it off as if there were more to it, to imply that something was going on behind the scenes.

Mum definitely bought it, because I caught the glint in her eye, and her lips stretched into a grin so wide it was nearly infectious.

This will work. It has to.

“Look, Mum and Tita Regina bought into it,” I inform her. I pick up the take away container again, and continue to fill it with palabok. “I want them to think we’re dating, so when we stage a break up, they’ll realise we actually aren’t good for each other. We tried, we didn’t work, and that’s the end of Marlon and Jaslene forever and ever.”

A crackling sound resounds as I push the takeaway lid onto the container. Ria juts her hip out, and from her stare, I can tell she still isn’t wholly convinced.

“Do you really think Mum and Tita Regina would fall for it? That they wouldn’t, I don’t know, suspect something is up?”

I tilt my head, as if to say, really ?

“Trust me, with how Mum and Tita Reg were acting when they saw Marlon and I on the garden chair, they’d absolutely never suspect anything.”

“And Marlon is just going to agree with you? Aren’t you scared he’s just going to change his mind just as quickly as he agreed today? Remember that this is the boy you’ve practically hated your whole life…”

Strangely enough, Marlon is the least of my worries.

This would benefit him too, if not even more. I knew he and Christine had broken up half a year ago, and there were whispers that part of the reason why was because she was feeling insecure on how our families had wanted Marlon and I together instead. This would help Marlon on his next conquest, or if he wanted to try again with Christine.

I relay all this to Ria, who nods along slowly. The cogs in her brain must finally be turning.

“So how long are you guys going to do this for?”

Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Really, I hadn’t thought of many things that I should’ve before I sprung the idea on Marlon spontaneously. A headache begins to form between my eyes. I lower the takeaway container and sigh, rubbing the space between my brows.

“I haven’t … thought about it yet. Look, I’m going to talk to Marlon about it first. Work things out with him, and update you with it all. I promise.”

Ria seems pleased with that. Sister privileges, and all.

“Okay, but you better tell me straight away,” she demands.

I shoot her a look, as if to say duh .

That’s when Ria turns her phone to me, and a video of her favourite BTS member plays on screen.

“Anyways, look at this hot edit of Jimin I found.”

Almost as quickly as the topic was brought up, Ria has already moved on and for that I was glad.

I get the message on Instagram, just as I settle into bed. I have to double take on who it’s from, because Marlon and I have never texted each other before, from what I remember, so seeing his name pop up is a little shocking to my system.

Wow, Marlon replies fast, like within seconds. How fast is this guy at typing? Is he a chronic phone user, so much so that he’s mastered the art of rapid typing, ors something?

I quash down these thoughts quickly. If I want to make this work, I’ve got to stop thinking negatively toward Marlon. Or at least, less than before. It’s hard to stop a habit that’s been built over the years.

My bedroom door opens and I glance up. Mum saunters in, her eyes on my phone, curious.

“Who are you chatting with?” she asks, bending down to plant a kiss on my forehead. I inhale deeply.

“Marlon,” I respond, slowly. Almost instantly, her shoulders perk up.

“Marlon?”

“Yes, we’re um - we’re actually planning to hang out this week,” I continue, the words dripping from my lips before I know what I’m saying.

“Oh! What for?”

“Just,” I begin, trying to think of a believable response. I settle with, “for fun.”

Mum just stares at me, a twinkle in her eyes. Without a word, she leans back, her lips twitching.

“Oh, I see.”

She caresses my hair, lingering beside me for a second.

“Is something happening with the both of you, Lene? I know we joke a lot about the both of you, but…”

I wonder if she’ll finish her sentence, saying that all the jokes were just what they were. Just jokes. Even if so, I know there’ll always be that in between.

“We’ll see,” I simply say, hoping that the small smile on my face appears shy.

Mum holds my gaze a moment, before nodding, and planting one more kiss, on my hair this time.

If there was a way I could reach through the screen and strangle Marlon… Ugh , now I’m craving Japanese. I’ll give him this win, just this once.

At that, I lock my phone and place it on my bedside table.

There’s really no backing out now, and I just pray that it will all work out, that I will have the patience to deal with Marlon, for however long this will take.