Page 101 of The Fake Out

After Ali’s last prank, he’d surely do any number of things. The next day, he’d stormed into the library—face purple with rage—and had demanded I put an end to these antics. When I’d explained that I wasn’t responsible for them, he’d only grabbed at his hair with both fists and stormed right back out.

I heard later it had taken him half the day and several emails announcing he was a cucumber before he’d realized what was happening. Then another three days to find someone who could fix it. He’d also insisted a security camera be placed outside his office door, and he’d sent a certified letter to Ali demanding she put a stop to it all or she’d be looking at criminal charges.

The next day, he’d received a package; in it was a t-shirt with a giant cucumber on it.

Horace shoved a cookie in his mouth and spoke around it. “Now what are we going to do?”

“Good grief, Horace.” Mrs. Katz glared at him. “Were you raised by animals?”

He replied by stuffing yet another cookie in his mouth.

“Like I told you, my son knows a guy,” Abel cut in.

“No,” I said.

“I have an idea,” a voice from behind me said.

“Oh, Aidan, I forgot you were still here,” I said. He’d asked to stay to work on homework. “Please tell us your idea.”

“What about all those businesses who are giving you free stuff? The flowers and cake and all that.” He pointed to the two fresh floral bouquets sitting atop the circulation desk. “Maybe they’d be willing to donate?”

Mrs. Katz slapped a hand on the table she was sitting at. “Sir, that is an excellent idea.”

We immediately got to work composing a list of businesses and the committee assigned each member a few to contact.

“This is good,” Mrs. Katz said when we’d finished. “But we still need something better than good. We need it to be big, huge, monumental.”

That is when Chris walked into the library. Like he’d heard the call and he was ready to answer.

His eyes found mine immediately, warm and twinkling, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. I watched him as he navigated the obstacle course of tables and bookshelves, a flutter beginning in my stomach. That flutter had been taking up entirely too much space lately, and only when Chris was around. It was concerning. But my concern didn’t stop my smile growing wider with each step he took.

“Like him?” Horace asked.

No one answered him, and it was then I realized the entirety of the room had their eyes on us. When he reached me, Chris didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me so tight my feet left the floor, forcing me to wrap my arms around his neck.

Someone sighed.

When he set me down, he kept one hand at my waist and the other moved a strand of my hair from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. Then he kissed me. It was soft and quick, a brushing of lips. But still, when he pulled back, my eyes opened slowly, reluctantly.

“Hi,” I said, my voice breathless.

“Hi.”

“Oh, my,” Sarah said, her voice dreamy. “Reminds me of my Will. First thing he did when he entered the room was kiss me hello.”

“Thought I’d come over a little early in case the meeting let out sooner than you expected,” Chris said.

I frowned, my head such a jumbled mess I had no idea what he was talking about.

“For dinner, remember?” With a smirk, he tapped my nose. “We had plans.”

“Oh. Right. Yes, um, yes. We’re just finishing up here.”

He found a seat at the same table as Horace, nodding a hello to him. “Don’t rush on my account.”

“As I was saying,” Mrs. Katz said. “We do need something big to draw a crowd. Something”—she stood and began to pace—“that no one would expect from a little library in the middle of nowhere.” At this, she stopped in front of Chris and smiled down at him, hands laced behind her back.

Horace slapped a hand on the table. “Like a meet-and-greet with a famous football player?”