Lessons in Faking (Hall Beck University #1)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

I regretted asking, as soon as his lips had split into a wide, victorious grin.

“If you wanted to take me out this badly, you could’ve just asked, Pressley.”

“Can you… not ?” I muttered, suppressing a groan. “If I wanted to go out with you, I’d be going out with you.”

A challenging smile deepened the dimple in his cheek that I’d only discovered today. Despite the self-assured grin, his mouth remained closed. Just how I usually liked it. Though, in this situation, some feedback would’ve been appreciated.

“So.” Still awaiting an answer, I brought us back on track. “What do you—?”

“Yes.” It was almost like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough now. The amusement on his face disappeared—dimples vanished, leaving only a hint of the earlier grin behind when his eyes fixed on mine.

“Yes?” My mouth closed, brow creasing, anxious at the gunshot of an answer.

The corner of his mouth tipped up when he repeated himself. “Yes.”

I’d expected to do some digging. Some groveling I was willing to do, to strike a deal with him. A You’ll-do-this-for-me-and-I’ll-do-that - for-you kind of thing. What I didn’t expect was a “yes”. Quick and precise, no bullshit. I wasn’t used to it from McCarthy.

I studied him curiously, a hint of confusion in my features. With his head turned to me, arms propped on the backrest of the bench and both brows raised as he waited for my next words, you couldn’t guess I’d just asked him to be my boyfriend.

A fake one, yes. But a boyfriend nonetheless.

The breeze had his brown hair in constant motion, indifference lacing every part of him now: posture relaxed, face straight. A yawn escaped his lips.

It was too easy.

“What?” His head tilted slightly, and now he was fighting hard to suppress another smile. “I said yes.”

“I heard that.” I snickered halfheartedly. More so, I was focused on finding something in his demeanor that revealed the lie. Or I was stalling for time until he’d break into a fit of laughter because I’d actually believed him. Neither happened. “Why?”

“ Why? ” he repeated. My uneasiness only seemed to make his amusement grow. “Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I cooed. “Maybe because it means you’ll have to actually spend time with me. And you don’t particularly like me.”

Poor Princess Pressley. Can’t believe someone wouldn’t be thrilled to spend time with her.

McCarthy shrugged, eyes shifting. “I don’t particularly like your brother any more.” He mocked my choice of words.

“And you want nothing in return,” I stated, still wary. “God knows you wouldn’t do me a favor if your life depended on it, McCarthy. So what’s the catch?”

He stretched beside me. With his arms in the air and long legs extended—he was the picture of tranquility. His eyes fell on me when they opened. “I’m getting everything I want, Pressley.”

And for some unknown reason, he looked genuine.

My brow rose in suspicion nevertheless. “What would that be?”

There had to be a catch here somewhere, right?

McCarthy sighed. “Let’s see—” He pretended to think over his answer for a moment, his words laced with irony. “A beautiful girlfriend on my arm when I walk around campus—” He immediately cut himself off as amusement glimmered on his face. “I’m sure people won’t mind the horrible attitude, unfunny jokes. Right?”

“Because you’re such a comedian,” I spat back, ignoring the beautiful and latching onto what I knew him for: the insult. “Just say no, and I can find someone else.” I was bluffing. There wasn’t anyone on this planet my brother would like to see me with less. But McCarthy didn’t need to know that.

“I said yes,” he reminded. “I’m sure you remember?”

“You’re not acting like that’s your final answer,” I said. I shook my head quickly. “So, I’d rather skip the back and forth and move on to you saying no, like you will anyway.”

“So little faith,” he mused. “I’m saying yes, let me be your fake boyfriend , Pressley.” His voice took on a fake pleading tone when he intertwined his hands in front of his chest. “Do you want me to beg? Is that what you want?” He pretended to get on his knees. Of course, he never would.

“So you’re serious?” I deadpanned. Not a hint of humor on display.

“Dead.”

“And you want nothing in return?”

McCarthy thought for a moment. “ Fine ,” he conceded. “Even if seeing your brother lose his mind is enough for me, if you want me to want something in return…” He eyed me just to make sure I realized how ridiculous it sounded. “Let’s just say you’ll owe me. A favor for a favor.”

Can’t complain now.

“All right.” But something about the calm demeanor, the lightning answer felt… off . I couldn’t shake the feeling. “And you’re sure you know what you’re—?”

“Getting into?” he cut me off impatiently, and I nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m sure I want to see you be my girlfriend, and I’m sure I want to see your brother when he realizes even more. Is that enough of an honest answer?” His brows rose to make a point. “This seems like an incredibly easy way to do so. So yes, I’m in. It was your idea. What are you so hesitant about?”

“Your ability to be a convincing boyfriend.” It slipped out. And I didn’t regret it.

“I can be a very convincing boyfriend,” he rebutted.

I snorted humorously. “You don’t even date.”

“I go on plenty of dates.” His nose scrunched defensively.

“Yeah, but you don’t date , do you?” Please don’t ask me how I knew that . “Like, the same person, multiple times. After she slept with you?”

I didn’t really mean to be as caught up on the subject of his dating history as I was. Girls just talked: when they were in the library, when they were getting ready to go out, when they were drunk in bathrooms. And if you stayed to listen, you could hear their conversations through the closed doors quite easily.

Why couldn’t he just agree with me so that I wouldn’t have to drive this point home so hard? He knew I was right.

McCarthy’s lips broke into a smirk, and I wished the ground opened up beneath me, before he had even opened his mouth. “Is this a frequent topic in the Pressley household?” he asked curiously, smiling. “My relationships? Dates? Say, do you have a file of every girl I’ve been with?”

“Can’t really blame Henry after Paula.” I shrugged quickly, shifting my eyes to study the brick wall behind us. “Besides,” I added in an amused drawl. “That file would be thin, only proving my point.” I dared a glance toward him.

“Paula?” McCarthy tilted his head, a little hesitant as he ignored the rest of my words. “Castillo?” I nodded. “What does Paula Castillo have to do with anything?”

“Oh, you know,” I muttered, sarcasm in my voice. “Just the fact she basically cheated on him. With you.” The thought was enough for the semi-permanent scowl on my face to make an appearance again. McCarthy’s unapologetically loud laugh pulled me back to reality, though. “ What? ” I snapped.

“Oh, you know.” He mirrored my words. Something must’ve still seemed incredibly funny to him. He was still laughing. “Just the fact that Paula is my friend and I’ve never touched her for longer than a hug when Henry fucked up.”

“He didn’t—” I cut myself off. I wasn’t here to defend my brother’s actions, much less understand whatever relationship he did or didn’t have. “Whatever,” I huffed instead, head shaking as I shifted my eyes.

McCarthy snickered. “Whatever indeed,” he said. “Which means I’m perfectly qualified to be your fake boyfriend, Pressley. Are you happy now?”

And really, the reality of my proposition only dawned on me now. I scrambled. “This has to be convincing, you know? It’s important that it’s convincing—”

“It will be.”

I shook my head, then straightened to signal how serious this was. “You can pretend to be a good boyfriend?” I doubled down, beginning to worry the longer I thought about it. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked in the first place. “Have you even been in a relationship before?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I can pretend to be a good boyfriend. Thank you very much.”

The fact he pointedly ignored the other question was answer enough.

“You can pretend that you think about me nonstop, that you’re totally and endlessly enthralled by me?” Again, there was an ironic exaggeration in my tone and words, and I held back a smile as he nodded once more.

“Yes.” At least he seemed convinced.

“You’re gonna have to be so in love with me, McCarthy. And if this doesn’t work, I swear to God—”

“Don’t worry,” he sighed, a fake smile graced his lips. “I’m a great actor.”

And that was that.

“A few ground rules,” I continued, brows creasing when my eyes fell back on him. Blinking, while he rummaged through his bag, I stifled a laugh when he pulled a little notebook out of it. “You’re taking notes?”

“Don’t laugh,” he scolded, trying to keep his own amusement in check. “Every agreement should be put in writing. No?”

“Spoken like a true business student,” I agreed. “We’ll do date night every Friday. I’ll pick you up from practice. Make sure Henry sees.”

His protest came quickly, eyes glued to his book. “Can’t do Friday; every Thursday?”

“What if I’m busy Thursdays?”

His head shot up, intrigued gleam in his eyes when they met mine. The corner of his lip quirked when he asked, “Are you?”

“Maybe I am.” I wasn’t. “But I’ll make it work.”

McCarthy snorted. “Thank you so much. I’ll be forever in your debt—” He stopped himself. “Oh, wait.” Smiled. “That’s you,” he corrected with a wink.

“You’re hilarious,” I deadpanned. “Thursday it is.”

Clearing my throat—to suppress my annoyance and to distract from the smirk on his lips—I went on. “We could soft launch on Monday.” Two days from now. “Talk after class, smile at each other. Go all in a few days later. Keep it up for a month or two? Until the new year, maybe?”

McCarthy scribbled furiously, nodding along to let me know he agreed. When his pen stilled, he looked up at me through thick lashes any girl would be envious of.

“All in.” He hummed. “What does that entail?”

If I was being honest, I hadn’t decided yet. Up until now, I’d managed to make it seem as though I had thought about this thoroughly before bringing the idea to him. In reality, I was making everything up as I went along, not sure what would come out of my mouth when I opened it.

“Public display of affection is a must.” I spoke as I thought. “You know, holding hands and all that.” An amused expression on his face, he willed me to go on. “So, light PDA. Nothing above that, of course. And only when Henry is around, obviously.”

“Still not quite catching on.” Casually, he twirled his pen between his fingers. Something about his eyes batting to mine, innocence in them he couldn’t have faked better, told me he wasn’t as clueless as he was pretending. Maybe he was a better actor than I’d given him credit for.

“You know.” I trailed off, brows rising.

“Let’s assume I don’t.” His shrug was sheepish. “Gotta make sure I get this as accurately to your wishes as possible, right?” He pointed to the makeshift contract in his lap.

In defeat, I sighed. “Why don’t you just put ‘No Sex’ down, then?” I shot back, already growing irritated. Maybe this really wasn’t the best idea. “Put it in capital letters, too.”

“Oh no,” McCarthy sighed dramatically. “However will I cope? After all, that was the only reason I agreed in the first place.” He pinned me with a look that said the opposite. “Now,” he said, clearing his throat. “Are there any non-obvious rules to this masterplan of yours?” He leaned back. “Or do you just like to think of a world where I can’t keep my hands off of you, Pressley?”

At the end, our Fake Dating Contract consisted of exactly seven ground rules. Beneath them, both of our signatures beamed brightly.

#1 Fake-Date-Thursdays.

#2 Delivery Period: November 1st–January 1st.

#3 No Sex.

#4 Exclusiveness is guaranteed. (Single activities to be postponed until after the duration of this agreement)

#5 Athalia Payton Pressley is obligated to support her fake boyfriend Dylan McCarthy Williams at his soccer games.

#6 Both parties involved can’t, under any circumstance, break character.

#7 Don’t fall in love with Dylan McCarthy Williams (or Athalia Payton Pressley).

Number seven was McCarthy’s addition, and after I had added my own name (and then he added parentheses around it), I was okay with it. He’d made sure to underline the Don’t and wrote it in bold, capital letters, like I needed the reminder.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” I held out my hand for him to shake.

“The pleasure’s all mine, trust me.”

His hand was twice the size of mine. It basically swallowed it whole.