04

WHEN MOM COMES home, I'm still thinking about Chase Rhodes. Sadly.

I wonder if I was too harsh on him. I mean, I still wouldn't accept—no matter the circumstances. Getting involved with Chase is the last thing I need right now.

My mind is focused on one thing and one thing only: finishing this impossible essay.

It has to be. I can't afford anything else. No matter what, I have to keep my fixation on it.

I can't get distracted now. Especially when I'm so close to getting what I've worked on since forever.

"Hey, honey," mom greets, and I smile at her in return. She sets her bag down on the counter and just when I think she'll leave me alone for tonight, her eyes catch sight of my laptop screen and she sighs.

I don't look up, I already know what I'll see. Disappointment, worry, irritation—the works.

I'm used to it all by now, having seen it all. And not just from her, from Dad too. Although at least Dad makes an effort to hide it.

"You're still working on that, Lila?" She asks, a distasteful notch to her voice. I slowly glance up at her.

"I can't just not do my college essay, Mom," I remind her for what feels like the millionth time. She shakes her head quickly.

"No, I know, but do you ever take a break?" she says, brushing my cheek with her hand. I turn my face away from her hand like it's scalding.

"I don't know, Mom, why don't you ask my stack of homework that question and get back to me," I grit out, fully aware that her shoulders have dropped.

"I'm sorry, Lila, it's just—" she sighs. "You know I worry. I don't want you wasting your teenage years because you're scared you won't make it into one college."

I clench my jaw. I guess we're doing this.

I remember the first time Mom, Dad, and I had this same conversation. It always started with the fact that I was throwing away my childhood and jumping too far into adulthood. And it always ended with a slammed door, a hurt heart, and a disappointed remark.

It was always my heart that hurt afterward. I wished and wished that my parents could see my plan through my perspective. See that I wasn't wasting my childhood just because I wanted my future to be assured.

But they never did. They were convinced I was growing up too fast too quick. I guess things never change.

"I'm not wasting my teenage years. I will have plenty of time do other things when I've graduated," that's the plan anyway. It always has been. Focus on school, then get distracted.

"And how long will that be, honey?" she raises a brow, challenging me. "You've been focusing on your education for so long I don't think I've ever even seen you go on a date!"

I close my laptop with harshly, and turn toward her. "That's not true," I say, recalling my date with Adam Hendricks in sixth grade. "I went out with Adam Hendricks to the movies remember?"

She rolls her eyes, "Middle school does not count and you know it."

She's right. It's an unspoken fact that dating in middle school counts for nothing.

I blow out a breath and her face softens as she rests her hands on my shoulders. I really want to move them. "Look, I am so grateful to have a daughter that takes her education seriously," she must see the disbelief on my face because she shakes her head. "I am. But I don't want you to lose this time, Lila, I need you to be a kid."

I want to tell her I don't care what she needs. That I wish what she needed was what I needed. But I've learned not to be stupid enough to do that.

My brows dip in frustration, weighing heavily on me. "I am being a kid! I—" I lift my chin and meet her eyes. My next words stumble out before I can even think about it. "I've been...seeing someone, actually. A boy."

Oh god. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Mom rears her face back, "You have?"

I swallow quickly and nod my head. "Yes," I hope she doesn't hear the frailty in my voice. "I have."

I wish you could reach into the air and grab the words you regret saying, because I would be snatching everything that just came out of my mouth.

She drops her hands and leans her hip against the counter, her face practically beaming down at me. "Since when?"

My eyes widen and I stumble over my words as I stand from my seat too. "Not that long—it's new—very new—maybe a couple of weeks, or... something."

I really need to shut up.

But I can't seem to. My mouth just keeps spewing more and more as my mom's face grows happier and happier with the lies I'm single-handedly feeding her.

"When can I meet him?" She says, her voice filled with excitement. I haven't seen her this ecstatic since she painted the fence purple and watched Ms. Hollendale lose her shit.

"Oh, you know," I laugh lightly. "It's pretty new so..."

She nods in understanding, "You're right—but when it comes time, make sure to tell him he can come over any time! Well, not any time—but...oh!" Her eyes light up animatedly and she squeals clutching my head to her chest in a brutal hug.

"My daughter has a boyfriend!" She laughs, and I struggle to do the same.

What have I just done? I'm asking myself the same question even after my mom leaves to go grocery shopping and I'm all alone, staring at my laptop screen questioning the last hour.

My pasta is sitting cold next to me, but I'm too anxious to even look at it. I haven't eaten since lunch today, and judging with the my mind is running five million miles a minute, I think that'll be all the food in me for the rest of the night.

Frantic questions run through my head. What happens when she asks to meet him? Or asks for his name? Or his parents' name? Or his dog's name? What happens when she realizes there is no boyfriend at all and I've disappointed her yet again?

I don't know what I'm going to do, but one thing is abundantly clear—I cannot let her find out I lied.

I don't want to see the hurt on her face when she realizes I lied about having a boyfriend. And there's no way I can take it back—not unless I build a time machine and travel to an hour ago to slap a hand over my stupid mouth.

I snatch my laptop, biting my lip as I hit the search bar and type in where to find a fake boyfriend. It's pathetic, I know. But I don't really have any other options, do I?

An ad for male escorts pops up and I furrow my brows, clicking out of the page. I don't ever want to look at that again.

I drum my fingers along the cool top of my laptop and somehow, my mind draws back to Chase. I immediately shake my head, just because he drove me home doesn't mean I owe him anything...right?

He isn't expecting me to repay him in some way, is he? That definitely isn't why he asked for my help and said he would do anything—wait.

I run my tongue along my teeth and think back to what Chase had said to me in the library. He'd been pacing by me for nearly ten minutes and when he'd finally gotten the courage to come up to me, he did not talk about what I thought he would.

I need your help.

I need you to help me get half of what you accomplished.

I'll do anything.

He had said that, hadn't he? Would he...no. That would be asking too much, wouldn't it? I could just tell my mom we weren't meant for each other and she'd get over it. But did I want to lie to her even more?

I put my head into my hands and groan loudly. This is such a mess. If only I could have just shut up, I wouldn't be going on google looking for fake boyfriends! Or considering the idea of tutoring Chase Rhodes in exchange of him fake dating me...

It's a bad plan. I won't do it. Nope.

I run a hand through my hair and sit up on my bed, opening my laptop once more, but it's no use. There's a zero possibility of me getting any of this written.

The rest of the night is spent questioning what the hell I'm going to do all the way until I fall asleep with a permanent frown on my face, and the reminder to speak to Chase Rhodes.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

At least that's what I tell myself.