Read Online The Trouble with Faking by Rachel Morgan - Free Book Online Page B

up. “What are you talking about?”
    “Andi.” He smiles. “I’m just joking.”
    “Oh, terrific. You get to insult me and then wave it off as a joke. I should try that.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Noah, you look like the kind of guy who might steal my car. Oh, wait, sorry. That was a joke.”
    Noah blinks, then frowns. “You look at me and you see a criminal ?”
    “Oh, COME ON. You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”
    “I could take it if it actually was a joke,” Noah says, standing up. “The difference is, you’re not joking.”
    “How do you know I’m—”
    “Because you’re angry,” he says simply. He opens the door. “I’ll see you around, Andi.” The door swings shut behind him.
    I deflate against the cushions, trying to convince myself that I have nothing to feel bad about and wondering why I let this guy get to me so easily in the first place.

 
    I bend over, line up the cue stick with the white ball, slowly pull the cue stick back, and bring it forwards fast. The white ball flies across the table, misses the striped ball I was aiming for, hits one of the solid balls, and sinks it. It’s the first ball I’ve successfully sunk. If only it were mine.
    “Thanks, Andi,” my opponent says.
    “Okay, it’s official. I suck at this.” I’m at the George, a room below ground level at Smuts used mainly for relaxing, watching TV¸ and playing pool or table tennis. It’s a little bit like an underground pub—at least, what I imagine an underground pub to look like, since I’ve never been in one.
    I arrived as the first eight-ball game kicked off. Damien beat Yashen, then Noah beat Damien, and then Damien decided I should have a turn. I told him I suck, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I looked around for an opponent who might also be terrible at pool, and my eyes landed on Mike sitting on a couch in front of the TV watching rugby. Mike, the guy I’m supposed to like.
    “Hey, Mike,” I called. “Do you play?”
    “Oh, not really. I’m kinda useless at pool.”
    “Perfect,” I said. “Me too.”
    Twenty minutes later, it turns out there’s only one useless pool player in this room, and it isn’t Mike. “Here.” I hold my cue stick out to Damien. “This is your game now. My pool-playing days are over.”
    “I guess I should kiss my winning streak goodbye then,” Mike says with a good-natured grin as Damien steps up to the table.
    “Not necessarily,” I tell him. “You’re actually pretty good.”
    “Okay, Damien.” Mike does a series of exaggerated arm stretches. “Bring it on. Let’s do this.”
    I laugh, and Damien gives me a raised-eyebrow look that most likely means, This is the guy you like?
    I shrug and smile back at him, intending for my expression to say something like, The heart wants what the heart wants.
    I take a few steps back and lean against the bar so I can watch them from a comfortable distance. After a minute or so, Noah leaves the group of guys watching rugby and wanders over to my side. I can’t think why he’d be interested in my company after our last disastrous conversation. Perhaps he’s come over to get back at me for calling him a criminal.
    “Well, isn’t this awkward?” he whispers to me. “The guy you’re pretending to date and the guy you’re pretending to like—facing off over a pool table.”
    I ignore him. It’s better than throwing verbal punches.
    “I’m actually here because I thought I should apologise,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.
    “Oh.” I certainly wasn’t expecting that.
    “I was provoking you,” he continues, “so I shouldn’t have been surprised when you retaliated. I just didn’t realise you’d come up with a jab that hit so close to home. It took me by surprise.”
    I look at him. “Are you telling me you are a criminal?”
    He laughs. “No. I’m telling you it’s not the first time I’ve been accused of being one.”
    “Oh. Well, it was the first time