They Called My Fake Date Boring, So I Kept Him novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Boring Date
Cora hands back Gavin's laminated apology, moves the SORRY tape to his feet and chooses Miles as her event date in front of three cameras. Asked to name what annoys him about her, Miles answers far too honestly.
Gavin Tate had laminated my apology.
The cream card was printed on both sides and sealed in plastic.
His name appeared four times, and mine appeared once.
"Read it slowly," he told me. "Keep it warm."
I turned the card over.
The last line asked everyone to respect his privacy.
We stood in a hotel courtyard, ten minutes before the press line for our film opened.
Three cameras were already aimed at the spot where I was supposed to be sorry.
Someone had marked it on the stone with tape that said SORRY.
The strip beside it said GAVIN.
Behind the barrier, forty fans in matching white shirts held up identical signs.
The signs said WE FORGIVE YOU CORA.
They still had the creases from the box.
Three weeks earlier, Gavin had left his girlfriend, and a rumor said the reason was me.
I had never dated him.
We had only shared a film, a call sheet and a producer.
The card's first line said I regretted that our friendship had forced him to make a painful choice.
"You ended it," I told him. "Nobody forced you."
"I'd like you to say the painful part."
Gavin straightened the cuff of his vivid blue suit.
"People need closure, Cora, and the fans are already on board."
"They've forgiven me for something I didn't do."
"That's the generous part," he said. "You're the only one behind."
I crouched and peeled the SORRY off the stone.
"Cora," Gavin said, in his television voice.
I pressed the tape down in front of his shoes.
"That's where it goes," I said.
The cameras now had a clear shot of a man standing behind the word SORRY.
I held out the card.
"You know the breakup best. Say it yourself."
He took it before he had decided to.
The only apology I owed was to Ruth, an actress I'd worked with, for a joke I had actually told.
Our producer, Wesley Haskett, hurried over with a fistful of index cards, his glasses crooked.
He looked at the tape, the card and the cameras, and chose the cards.
"We're trying a little rivalry," he said. "Nothing cruel. A competitive edge."
Behind him, Miles Arden stood reading the badge on his lanyard.
It said MILES ADORE.
"That's optimistic," Miles said.
I laughed before I remembered I was meant to look sorry.
"They've made you more interesting," Gavin told him.
"I was hoping for accurate," Miles said.
"A rivalry needs a shape," Wesley said. "Gavin's the star, Cora's the problem, and Miles can be..."
"The dependable option," Gavin offered. "He's very good at boring."
Miles put the badge in the pocket of his gray cardigan.
Among the hard suits, the cardigan looked like the only comfortable decision.
"Cora's coming to the event with me tomorrow," Miles said.
Everybody looked at me.
He looked too, and waited for my answer instead of supplying one.
We hadn't discussed it, which made it the first thing all week Gavin hadn't printed.
"I am," I said.
"This can work," Wesley said, recovering. "Two co-stars, some tension, a little mystery."
"Do we need to be mysterious?" Miles asked. "I can manage dinner."
Wesley closed his eyes.
I wanted to know whether Miles had offered out of pity.
Years ago, he had watched Gavin joke about me at a dinner and said nothing.
A soft cardigan didn't erase that.
The interviewer waved us to our chairs.
Gavin sat in the middle before anyone assigned seats.
Wesley moved the name cards to match him, and they came out crooked.
My phone buzzed as I sat down.
Sadie, my oldest friend, wrote comedy and hadn't had a booking in months.
She had texted: Don't read it out loud.
Under that: Friday at eight, my aunt is coming.
Under that: The producer from the old show still hasn't written back, so I'm free any night.
I typed: He's slow. Friday, I promise.
The interviewer asked about the film, and Gavin gave a polished answer about trust.
Then she turned to Miles. "We hear there's a rivalry. What annoys you most about Cora?"
Behind her, Wesley held up a card that said HER EGO.
"She reads the whole menu before she orders," he said.
"Is that annoying?" the interviewer asked.
"It's thorough," Miles said. "I'd say it's the opposite."
Wesley flipped his card toward the lens and pointed at it.
Miles read it aloud. "I'm told she has an ego."
"Does she?" the interviewer asked.
"She asked the sound man his name before she asked for water," Miles said.
One of the forty signs went down.
She tried me next. "Cora, what annoys you about Miles?"
I had prepared three answers, and every one of them was a lie I could survive.
"He tells the truth when it's inconvenient," I said.
"That's the annoying part?" the interviewer asked.
"It's very inconvenient," I said, and Miles smiled at his knees.
The interviewer turned back to him. "Is there anyone you'd especially like to work with again?"
"Cora," Miles said.
He said it before I could arrange a modest face.
"Why?" she asked.
Miles looked at me instead of the nearest camera.
"She listens when somebody else is funny," he said. "I'd like more time with her."
The fans fell quiet, and Wesley lowered every card he was holding.
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