Straight-Faced

eventful

It was around 1 PM, I had to meet my fake girlfriend in around twenty minutes, and I still had yet to get out of bed.

"Cameron. Wake up."

I tried to ignore the annoying voice by feeling around blindly for my covers and pulling them over my head.

"Babe. You're being difficult."

"Go away," I mumbled.

I heard a loud sigh, and suddenly, my comforter was yanked away. I felt breathing on the side of my face as the voice said, "Cameron. Get. Up."

I opened my eyes to see Luke's face hovering inches above mine.

"Morning," I said.

"Cameron, you need to- whoa!"

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tightly. "I'm staying here, and you're staying with me."

"Um, no, I don't think so." Luke wiggled out of my grasp and got out of my bed. "You're like the nightmare that I have to face after I wake up. Come on, you have to go get ready."

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and feigned confusion. "Why? What am I getting ready for?"

"You're impossible," Luke announced. "I'm never sleeping over again."

He left my room, and I stayed right where I was for a few minutes before rolling out of bed.

Luke was waiting for me when I stumbled into the bathroom. He watched creepily as I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and frowned at my bedhead in the mirror. He grinned from ear to ear and bounced on his toes as I ran my hair gel-coated fingers through my hair.

"You should not be this excited about handing me over to a girl," I commented as I washed my hands. "What if she's just like Tiff?"

"She won't be, and this is going to turn out great," Luke said happily. "Call me after you're done?"

I eyed him suspiciously. "Okay. Sure."

Luke patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, everything'll be fine." He paused. "Promise me something, though."

"Maybe," I said. "Turn around, I need to get dressed."

Luke looked away and covered his eyes. "You should tell her the truth."

I pulled a plain white t-shirt over my head. "The truth about what? How I pour milk into a bowl before cereal? Just kidding, what kind of person would do that?"

"Uh, no, try again." I could imagine him rolling his eyes.

I stepped into my jeans. "I like pineapple on pizza?"

"Gross. No. You should tell her that you're gay."

I stopped fumbling with the zipper on my pants. "Excuse me? Are you trying to get me killed? My manager-"

"Doesn't have to know that she knows," Luke interrupted. He turned around and buttoned up my jeans for me. "Tell her. If she doesn't take it well, you can tell Pissyfart that there's no way you two get along well enough to do this. If she does take it well, it'll make fake-dating a whole lot less awkward."

"Did you just call my manager Pissyfart?"

Luke huffed and put his hands on my shoulders. "You missed the point."

"Okay, okay. I'm not trying to think egotistically, but what if she's my biggest fan, and I disappoint her?"

Luke sighed. "You worry too much." He kissed me, but when I leaned in to kiss back, he stepped away. "You have to go. I think I'm gonna head out too, so I don't have to be alone in your house with your parents."