Fake Dating My Best Friend's Younger Brother

The alarm wouldn’t stop ringing.

I stretched out a hand to shut it up but ended up knocking it to the floor. Groaning, I rolled off the bed and finally silenced the damn thing. Every part of me begged to crawl back under the blanket, but I forced myself up — I couldn’t be late today.

My parents were coming home after three months away on a business trip. I’d even skipped school to pick them up from the airport.

I dragged myself into the bathroom, took a long shower, then stood in front of the mirror working on my hair and makeup. Having parents who run their own business sounds glamorous, but it’s exhausting when they’re never around. Especially Mom.

At least she promised to take a month off to spend time with me. A proper bonding. The thought made me smile as I brushed mascara over my lashes and smoothed on lipstick.

People always said I looked like her — same plump lips, same brown hair and eyes. I could finally see it now. My dress clung to my body like a second skin, shaping my narrow waist and— well, that part Asher always called his favorite.

His face flashed through my mind and I couldn’t help smiling wider. Captain of the football team, charming, always bringing flowers, planning endless dates.

Speaking of flowers, maybe I should buy some for my parents—

No, they’d be tired. Better to order something fancy for dinner instead.

I grabbed my purse and shut the door behind me, resisting the urge to glance at the parking lot. One of those moments I wished I’d learned to drive. Instead, I’d had to rent a car and driver.

My phone buzzed. The car rental company. I swiped to answer.

“Good morning. Please, am I speaking to Miss Catherine Young?” a polite male voice asked.

“Yes, that’s me. Where are you?” I glanced around, spotting a black SUV pulling in. “I see you.” I waved and stepped off the porch.

“Hi,” I greeted as I slid into the passenger seat. “You know where we’re going, right?”

The elderly driver smiled. “Of course, young lady. Buckle up.”

It would take about half an hour to the airport. I pulled out my phone to distract myself. Still no text from Asher. Probably busy in class. I hovered over the call button but scrolled past.

Halfway through the ride, my phone lit up — Dad.

Shoot. They’d landed already.

“Sir, please, can you go a bit faster? My parents have arrived.”

“Okay, miss.” He pressed down on the gas as I picked up the call.

“Dad! Just give me ten minutes, I’m almost—"

He cut me off with a cough.

“Dad? Are you even listening? Don’t take a ride, I’m almost there—”

“Listen up, Peach,” he said in that calm businesslike tone that always made my stomach tighten. “Something urgent came up. We had to cancel our flight. We won’t be coming back this month.”

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. The phone slipped from my fingers and landed on the seat.

“Peach? Cat? Catherine?”

I picked it up with shaking hands — and turned it off.

“Driver,” I said quietly, staring out the window, “please take me back home. My parents… won’t be coming anymore.”

What was I expecting? For them to change? To suddenly put me above their never-ending business deals?

This has been normal for as long as I can remember. So why does it still hurt this much?

I wipe my face and whisper to myself, “You’re turning eighteen soon, Catherine. Don’t cry like a kid.”

The car rolls through the familiar streets, and I just pray for it to reach home quickly. When we finally pull up, I thank the driver and step out, shoulders heavy with disappointment.

Mom and Dad can buy a new house and live over there for all I care. If they won’t show up, then maybe I should stop waiting. Block their numbers, block the hope, block everything.

It’s already eleven a.m. School ends by two. I should’ve just gone to class instead of playing the “good daughter” no one ever appreciates.

Asher always finds a way to make me smile, though. Maybe hearing his voice will fix my mood.

I turn my phone back on — and immediately, Mom’s name flashes across the screen. I almost decline it, but something in me answers.

“Mom.”

“Oh, my Polar Bear!” Her voice is soft, guilty. “I know you’re mad at your dad and me, but we’re doing this for you, for your future. We’ll be back next month, I swear—”

I pull a drink from the fridge, the cold can pressing against my palm. “Stop making promises you can’t keep, Mom. I’ll be fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Look,” she rushes in, “I’ll wire you some money. Go shopping for bags, new clothes, take your friends with you. Spoil yourself, sweetheart.”

“Whatever, Mom.”

“Stay safe—and no bringing boys home. And please, if you ever want to, you know… do the deed, use prot—”

I end the call before she finishes. Trying to play mom now? Funny.

A credit alert pops up on my screen. I roll my eyes at the ridiculous amount. She really meant “shopping.” Probably expects me to take the whole cheer squad.

I scroll through my recent calls and tap Asher’s name. Just hearing his voice always fixes things. But it goes straight to voicemail.

He’s probably busy with practice. Still, he doesn’t have training today. I try again—same result.

He’ll call when school’s out. He always does.

I order lunch, scroll through a romance series online, and lose track of time. After an hour, I try again—and this time, he picks up.

“Asher,” I pout, “I’ve been calling you! I miss you.”

He chuckles, that low warm sound that makes my chest feel lighter. “Miss you more, babe. But you should spend time with your parents, okay?”

I sigh, frustration spilling out. “They didn’t board the flight, Asher. They left me hanging. Again.”

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“I will be,” I say softly. “Just… come over after school. I don’t want to be alone today.”

He’s quiet.

“Asher?”

“Cathy… I’m sorry. I have to help my mom with grocery shopping. She’s making dinner for some guests tonight.”

I bite my lip. “Really?”

He exhales. “Are you mad?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Of course not. It’s your mom. It’s fine.”

“Look, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I trust you.”

But the moment I hang up, the silence in the house feels heavier than before.