Faking It

Chapter 33: Tasting Menu Truth or Dare

A kind of calm settled over us for the next week. Flashes of the real Theo pierced through his facade more often than they had before, and all his PDA was getting less and less annoying. He started texting me goodnight, and I started texting him good morning. He even helped me when I got stuck on my math homework so I didn't have to run to Gyeong-Ja or Audra for help. I didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt, either, when I put off my history chapter summaries just so he and I could work on our English papers together.

But maybe it was all just the calm before the storm. William had sent Theo the details of the reservation that Madeleine had made for Saturday night, and the week flew by far too quickly. Theo and I both battled through tough games on Saturday afternoon, and then suddenly it was evening, and he was waiting for me in the common room, dressed in a tailored blazer, immaculate dress shirt, and dark jeans. Since my wardrobe didn't exactly have many fancy-French-bistro-appropriate options, Gyeong-Ja had loaned me a navy sheath dress to match my only pair of strappy heels. But since she was a good three inches shorter than me, it hit a little high on the thigh. When Theo let out a low whistle, I flapped my hand at him to stop and hastily did up my coat, mortified that I was blushing.

"You clean up good, Emdubs," he said, offering me his arm.

I accepted it gratefully, super unaccustomed to walking in heels. "So do you, Ellerby. Nice goal today, by the way."

He grinned. "It was gorgeous, wasn't it?"

"A thing of beauty," I agreed. "And a nightmare for any defender."

He opened his car door for me. "Nah. You'd have stopped that chip and run without breaking a sweat."

I couldn't help my smile as I buckled myself in.

The bistro that Madeleine had picked was exactly as chic as I'd expected, and when Theo held the door to usher me in, I was thankful that Gyeong-Ja had vetoed my jeans and shirt combo. Dark, leather booths circled the walls, and candles warmed the ambience of the low-lit, brick-walled restaurant. William and Madeleine were already seated in a booth near the back, snuggled together and perusing the same menu.

"You ready?" Theo asked, handing our jackets over to the coat check guy.

I reached for his hand. "Ready as I'll ever be."

His fingers were tight around mine as we wove between the white tablecloths.

"Lovely restaurant pick, Mads," Theo said by way of greeting. "Very posh."

"Thanks." She beamed, while William slid out to stand up. But before he could hug either of us hello, Theo had ushered me into the booth and sat down beside me.

"So, what looks good?" he asked, lifting the leather-bound menu so we could share ours the way William and Madeleine had shared theirs.

William's pleasant smile didn't falter as he took his seat again. "The escargots are phenomenal. And so is the steak tartare."

I tried not to grimace as I read down the tasting menu. At least half the dishes were things I very much didn't want to swallow—escargots, caviar, foie gras, steak tartare—and I didn't have much of a choice if the menu's strict "Saturday night - tasting menu only" was to be believed.

"All your favorites," Theo said to William with a razor-sharp smile. "Too bad there's nothing I'd enjoy."

"He's joking," William said to Madeleine, when she opened her mouth, brows furrowed. "Though his palate is definitely less cultured than ours. Should I ask if they can make you a hamburger?"

Theo grinned and snapped the menu shut. "I'll take it well done. With curly fries."

William stared at him, unimpressed, and closed their menu, too.