Lessons in Faking (Hall Beck University #1)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

It was past eleven when I woke the next day, tempted to stay in bed, forget that yesterday’s breakdown happened—forget that McCarthy had been there to see—and fall right back asleep, until this cursed day would pass.

But only for a second.

Maybe I didn’t want to be rude, after how kind and welcoming McCarthy’s family had been yesterday. Maybe I didn’t want to seem like a spoiled brat who took it all for granted. Waking up this late probably made me seem like one, regardless. Either way, my decision had absolutely nothing to do with Dylan McCarthy Williams, how I wanted to see him again or that I wanted to show him I was fine after last night.

No. Nothing at all.

Instead of the usual baggy-T-shirt-sweatpants combination I had dubbed my Thanksgiving attire, I put effort into how I looked today: first time that happened in seven years. A white collar peeked out from beneath my beige sweater, tucked into a brown plaid skirt, that seemed much shorter than I remembered, now that I’d be wearing it in front of McCarthy’s family.

I should’ve gotten them something—anything—to show my gratitude.

Why do I care so much about what they thought of me?

Apparently for the same reason I’d showered and done my hair, put a single wave in my curtain bangs, and let the rest of the brown layers fall down my back. I sighed at my reflection in the mirror, green eyes behind round glasses staring back at me.

Maybe I should have brought my contacts with me. Then again, my reasoning was solid. I predicted tears on Thanksgiving with the same probability as rain in London. It was why I’d opted against makeup today, too.

Downstairs, I walked in on McCarthy at the dinner table, playing Monopoly with his sisters. The pained expression on his face spoke for itself, but the few notes of cash laid out in front of him delivered the final realization. He was losing.

I’d never seen him lose anything.

It was his turn, brows drawn together slightly, concentrating enough that I could go unnoticed. “I have enough to buy this—” he thought out loud, letting the rest of us be part of his process. His finger tapped one of the two dark blue streets. “But then I’m literally left with ten dollars.” His groan rang through the room. My lips quirked as I watched.

“What can I say? Capitalism’s a bitch, little brother.” Denise hummed in amusement.

Dakota kicked his leg under the table impatiently, her eyes rolling. “Just buy the damn thing, Dylan. You’re holding up the entire game.”

“Fuck off,” he shot back halfheartedly, though he put the notes in the bank regardless, searching for the right card in the stack and placing a house on his field.

“ You fuck off.”

I made my way toward the five of them, and McCarthy was no longer too occupied to notice me. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he drawled in amusement, eyes flickering back and forth between me and the board as he gestured to the chair beside him. “We’ve been up waiting for you to emerge from your coma since eight this morning. Even waited with breakfast.”

The smile on my face fell.

I wasn’t sure whether to snap at him for making them wait, or apologize to everyone for having to wait. I opted for avoiding eye contact and saying nothing as I sat down.

“Oh, come on, Dylan,” Diana snickered, hair cut short in a way that screamed ‘no-bullshit’; the same way her voice did now. “Don’t be a dick—you’ve been up for an hour, tops.” Before she even finished her sentence, my head swiveled in McCarthy’s direction, eyes twitching into a glare. His grin was wide, amusement etching into his features.

“Time is relative.” The wink that accompanied his words made me huff in disbelief. McCarthy mouthed a Sorry . Noticing my glare, an amused pout formed on his lips. “Old habits die hard,” he rasped, head tilting with the hum of his voice.

“Seems like it.” My grin was as wide as I could fake it. I spoke lowly enough not to distract his sisters, watching Delilah’s next move. By the look of it, she was in the lead, and I took the opportunity of their collective focus.

“Never took you for a risk-taker,” I noted casually, nodding at the property he’d bought as if I hadn’t just placed my hand on his thigh, and as if it weren’t trailing along the muscles underneath his grey sweats.

He tensed under my touch, jaw rigid and his eyes glued to my hand, following every single movement of it warily. He cleared his throat, glanced around the table. The grin on my face deepened, daring to inch my touch higher, higher—until he trapped my hand underneath his. It was double the size of mine, and forced me to stay in place, pressing it into his leg.

“Have some mercy on me, Athalia,” he muttered under his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered sweetly, eyes batting open to meet his. When I stood up to circle behind his chair, he exhaled sharply the moment my hand fell from his leg. He wasn’t nearly as rigid once I placed them on his shoulders. “Old habits die hard,” I whispered from behind him.

His head fell back playfully as he tried his best to look at me. I raised my brows. “I’ll be helping your mom. Good luck, risk- taker.” With one last nod in the direction of the gameboard, I strolled into the kitchen.

By three o’clock I felt bad enough to ask where the nearest grocery store open on a holiday was. I really should’ve stopped for chocolate or wine or flowers on the way here. Shown some gratitude. Wasn’t that what this stupid day was about in the first place?

Nothing could stop me from getting to that store.

Nothing but my turned-off phone. Because there was no way in hell I’d turn it on today. The thought of accidentally stumbling across an article or a rogue condolence text—that was a little late for the actual date, but perfectly timed to make me spiral—was enough to tighten the knot in my stomach.

So leaving my phone off was a no-brainer.

I’d planned on quickly sneaking out the door without anyone noticing, then coming back with a nice wine or other goodies to make it seem like I had them with me all along. But with my phone temporarily out of order, googling the nearest store and using maps to get there wasn’t an option. Unfortunately, that only left me with one other: a tall, brunet boy I didn’t think I hated anymore.

“Can I use your phone?”

“For what?”

“Just need to check something real quick.” My eyes darted through the living room, taking in the way we all sat pressed together on one of the white couches, facing the TV. My voice lowered once more, and I was still following the football game on the screen, hoping that I didn’t look suspicious when I whispered, “And take it somewhere. Won’t be longer than half an hour.” Right? “I think.”

Curiosity curled the corner of his lip, the lopsided grin revealing his dimple. “ You think? ” he mocked. “And what is it you need to check, princess?” He bumped my shoulder with his. We were sitting close enough that he didn’t have to move much for that at all.

“Just—” I shrugged. “Something.”

“No.” He sounded way too satisfied whenever those words came out of his mouth. Today was no different.

A groan slipped past my lips, and unfortunately the sound wasn’t as low as our whispers had been. Every head in the room turned my way—including Rose’s, who had been sleeping peacefully on Denise’s lap.

Synchronized.

I saw McCarthy’s triumphant smile in my mind without having to turn.

“ Dylan ,” his mother whispered harshly before I could even begin to apologize. Her tone adapted that naturally ironic note that always lingered in McCarthy’s, too. “For the love of God, stop annoying your girlfriend . Please.”

My head snapped in his direction at the word, trying my best not to make the confused, prompting, please explain- look on my face too obvious to the rest of them. I was about to spiral into another one of my short-circuiting moments, seconds away from rambling that: no , I wasn’t actually his girlfriend and that, yes , he must’ve lied to you about it.

It sounded crazier when I put it like that.

“ Mom ,” Dakota playfully whined from the other side of the couch. I’d never been more grateful to hear someone else’s voice. Truly. She shot her mother a scolding look. “She’s not his girlfriend. I’ve told you that a million times already.”

“Well, he’s treating her like one. What am I supposed to think?” She threw her hands up in confusion. I was just glad the attention was on their bickering, and not on me anymore. The fact they were arguing about my potential relationship status with their son/brother didn’t matter. Did it?

“I told you it’s—”

“Yes, yes.” Natalie waved her off. “It’s complicated, confusing. I don’t know what’s complicated about the way he looks at—”

“ All right ,” McCarthy snapped, clearing his throat to steer my attention away. He hurried me up and away from the couch, Diana and Dakota immediately scooting over to sprawl across the previously occupied space. The latter was still arguing with her mother, though McCarthy pushed me out of the room before I could pick up any more of their words.

“You need to learn to use your inside voice, Pressley,” he muttered from behind me, coming to a halt in the hallway a few seconds later. “Now, what do you need my phone for?”

Turning around with a scowl on my face, it faltered when he already held the unlocked device out to me. A prompting look played in his features.

The next grocery store open on Thanksgiving was a good twenty-minute drive away. Which was how I’d ended up back in McCarthy’s Jeep, forced to accept his ride.

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know?” I huffed, grabbing a cart as we entered the store. He immediately took it from me, and I’d be an idiot to complain. “You should be spending time with your family.” I glanced up at him, startled to find his gaze steadily on me already. McCarthy’s head tilted, a single brow rising.

“Oh,” he quipped. “So you know how to drive a manual?”

He knew I didn’t. I could see it in the smirk growing on his lips, and the glint in his eyes.

“No.” I shrugged the statement off, though it earned me a hearty chuckle from him anyway. As I tried my best to ignore it, my focus shifted on the task at hand. “Is there anything else your mom still needs? For dinner?”

“Hop in,” he said, completely ignoring my original question.

At this point, I was convinced the only reason he’d come along was to make this more difficult for me. My head swiveled in his direction in annoyance, a low huff accompanying the motion when I realized he’d stopped a few steps behind me, his brows waggling with the rocking motion of the cart, nodding toward it with a cheeky smile on his lips. “ Go on . Don’t be a wuss, Pressley.”

My brow furrowed. “I can’t just—” I gestured into the cart, gaze jumping back and forth between it and him, then through the store.

“Why not?” My attention was back on him. “It’s empty. And even if it wasn’t, you don’t know anybody here. They don’t know you.” The challenging undertone in his voice got me. “Now get in the cart.”

My annoyed sigh wasn’t at all genuine. Because for some reason, I wanted to get in that cart. And although uncomfortable, as soon as he began wheeling me around like his ninety-year-old wife who was unable to walk with her old age, I enjoyed it.

“All right,” I announced, turning back to meet his eyes with a childlike smile. “What can I get your parents, then?”

He hummed while considering, his eyes flicking through the store as he thought. “You know.” He nodded as if agreeing with his own idea, reassuring himself. “Mom’s always been fond of those little chocolate things.”

“Very specific, thank you .”

He rolled his eyes before they searched the aisles for the Chocolate sign. “You won’t know them.” He shook his head lightly, a teasing smile on his lips when he looked back at me. “They’re kind of—” He leaned closer with a secretive expression on his face, like he was about to share the nuclear codes with me. “Cheap.” A gasp followed his whisper, and he couldn’t help but laugh at his own joke.

“Oh no! My credit card is not designed for purchases under ten dollars.” Pretend worry filled my drawling voice, and he snorted from behind me. “Whatever will we do now?” As I turned around to face him, my head tilted with an eye roll.

“You’re annoying.” The way he said it was… kind. His voice soft and amused and like he’d never thought a bad thing about me in his life. Closing my eyes to keep my smile from tearing my face in half, I turned back around as he rolled me toward the little chocolate things his mother loved.

“So?” came his voice from behind, watching me reach for the box he had pointed out— twelve cranberry chocolates inside; very fitting for the occasion. “Do you know them?” The humor in his voice was obvious.

My eyes narrowed, turning to shoot him a glare I didn’t at all mean. “No,” I spat halfheartedly. “But I could have known them.”

“They don’t sell these at Whole Foods,” he snickered. “The chances are slim.”

“I barely shop at Whole Foods!”

“Because the next one is fifty miles away.” A laugh accompanied his words. One I couldn’t help but enjoy, no matter how hard I tried not to.

“You know me way too well, McCarthy.” I threw an obligatory glance over my shoulder as the cart was set in motion again. “How is that?”

“Reading people is one of my many talents.” I could tell that lying wasn’t one of those talents. But I let it go.

Twisting the box of chocolates in my hands absentmindedly, I asked, “What can we get your dad?”

“Nothing at all, if it’s up to me.” McCarthy tried to hide the truth behind his words with a joking tone, though in the past month it had become a lot easier to spot.

Throwing another glance over my shoulder, his hands flew up in mocked defense. “I’m just saying,” he huffed. “He’ll be there for dinner, then disappear in his office after the table has been cleared. For all I know, he hasn’t even noticed that you’re here.”

I turned in the cart completely to face him, considering the shift in his attitude. “You never mention him,” I started carefully, and McCarthy shrugged again, inspecting the aisles we passed, instead of looking at me.

“Well,” he sighed. Shrugged again. “Nothing worthy of mentioning. He’s basically as absent as yours—” He caught himself a little too late, wide eyes jumping to me in a startle at his own words.

“I’m so sorry—” It shot out of him, and he clearly felt bad enough to ramble on. “It’s just, he’s been basically absent, since he realized I’m more capable of kicking a ball than throwing one. He tries to pay for shit, I guess, but—not that that’s equal to your—You—” His head fell back. “I’m really sorry.”

Nerves played in his eyes when he looked back at me, and somehow I didn’t care much at all about what had slipped out. I liked how he spoke about my parents so casually, even if he’d mentioned what I was trying hard to forget.

“So he’d rather have you play football?” McCarthy’s brow creased as I ignored his apology, instead finding myself far more interested in the relationship between him and his father.

“Or work in a bank,” he said hesitantly, shrugging again. “Anyway.” His eyes roamed the aisles again as we approached the register. “No need to get him anything.”

“All right,” I conceded, not wanting to push it. “But how else will I get your entire family to love me?”

McCarthy considered me for a long moment, his brown eyes flickering across my seated state, hair in that messy middle part of his. He huffed, then his lip quirked up the slightest bit. “Don’t you worry,” he said. “You’re well on your way to be invited back for Christmas—and Easter, for all I can tell.”

I snorted in amusement, turning back to the front of the cart, which he was still using to push me through the store. “I really like them,” I noted. “Your family, I mean.”

“Good.” I could hear the smile on his face. “Because it’s all Athalia this , Athalia that —I wouldn’t know how to break the news if you didn’t.” The heaviness in the air was gone, and it was obvious he didn’t want to shuffle back to the topic that had been the cause of it in the first place.

I chuckled, finding the thought objectively sweet. “Just like you, then.”

Silence.

“No doubt about it.”