Every man and his dog seems to have descended on Basingstoke’s shopping centre thanks to the torrential rain outside, meaning that it’s extra specially busy for a Saturday, yet in telling Becca about Luke I’ve come up with a canny tactic to part the crowds.
‘He said what?’ screams Becca, causing fellow shoppers around to give us a wide berth.
‘Oh, you heard me right. He wants to fake date me.’
‘Fake date you?’
‘Yep, he wants to pretend that we’re in a relationship.’
‘Why?’
‘To grow our Instagram accounts and get the attention of brands.’
Becca scoffs.
‘How on earth did he come up with that?’
‘Lara McPherson said at her talk that couples do really well on Instagram because their content is widened by the lifestyle choices they can make together. You know, they buy and renovate houses, get married and have babies.’
Becca opens her mouth so wide I can see her tonsils.
‘Don’t worry, we’re not going that far. It’ll be more the story of us getting together. Luke wants to share our story on Instagram and he wants to talk about it in his vlogs.’
Becca still hasn’t shut her mouth.
‘I really have heard everything now,’ she says eventually. ‘You’re not seriously going to do it, are you?’
‘That is the million-dollar question,’ I say. I stop as we reach H&M. ‘Hang on, I’ve got to take this stuff back.’
‘You know, it would be a whole lot simpler if you shopped online and sent everything back.’
‘Have you seen the queue at the post office at the weekend? Plus, I’d have to order double the amount as not all of it would fit. This way I get to try it on first to make sure it fits before I buy it.’
Becca sighs and follows me into the shop. I waddle along with my bags to queue up for the tills.
‘I thought you were going to keep the mustard shirt,’ she says, peering into my bag.
‘I know, but I really couldn’t justify it. I’ll have to do my next haul from Primark and then I might be able to keep some.’
‘Next,’ shouts a bored-looking teenage girl.
She flicks her long hair over her shoulder and eyes the bag in my arms suspiciously.
‘I’d like to return these please,’ I say, sliding the bags across the counter before retrieving the receipt from my own bag.
She looks straight into my eyes before she studies the receipt.
‘All of them?’
I nod. ‘Uh-huh. They just didn’t suit me when I got home. Do you use special lighting in the fitting rooms?’ I say, looking over at them.
She purses her lips and grabs the items out of the bag, rotating each one and making sure the tags are still firmly attached.
I start to get a bit nervous. In all my returning history I’ve never had this much scrutiny.
‘This, here,’ she says, pointing to a mark on one of the shirts that looks like make-up.
‘That must have been there when I bought it – someone must have tried it on in the shop,’ I say, looking at the stain in horror. How did I not notice that before? Was it in the photos that I took? ‘I swear that I only tried them on and look – that shade of foundation is nothing like my skin tone.’
The girl gives me another suspicious look before picking up the next item. I try to relax but my heart is still racing. I know that it wasn’t me who caused the stain; I am so careful. That’s why most of my #OutfitOfTheDay ensembles are button-down shirts or dresses – nothing that goes over my head and therefore nothing that can get make-up-stained.
‘Have you got your original payment card?’
‘Uh-huh,’ I say, and she motions for me to put it into the card reader.
She makes me sign some receipts and she gives me one more scowl before I’m allowed to go.
‘I think next time I will order online,’ I whisper to Becca as we head out the shop.
‘Good move. Coffee?’
We start walking towards our usual coffee shop.
‘So what’s this Luke like then?’ asks Becca.
‘I’ve never met anyone as confident or as egotistical. He’s so sure of himself.’
‘If you don’t like him then why are you considering faking a relationship with him?’
I look down at my blistered hands. ‘Because I don’t want to cut my hands to ribbons every Saturday to take clothes back. I want to take the next step up as an influencer.’
‘Then why don’t you do it?’ says Becca after a pause.
I’m shocked because she’s usually the sensible one. I’ve been counting on her to be outraged; for her to be my moral compass and to tell me it’s a terrible idea. When I first told her that I wanted to become an influencer she thought it was crazy that I’d want to lead such a public life.
‘I’m just not sure people would believe that I was actually going out with someone so attractive.’
Becca tuts. ‘Do not make me do the whole “you’re gorgeous” speech.’
‘I wasn’t. I just meant I wonder if anyone would believe it.’
‘Why wouldn’t they? Look at all the fake news out there – if people want to believe it they will.’
‘So you think I should do it?’
‘If it’s going to give you both of you a bit of a boost and it’s not hurting anyone, is it? There’s so much bad news that a little love story like this might be quite nice. People like to watch a love story develop.’
We reach the coffee shop and I make a beeline for a tiny table in the corner where we always sit.
‘Plus, you lie all the time on your feed,’ she says, sitting down.
‘Um, I do not.’
‘You just took back £200 worth of clothes that you’ll be “wearing” as your #OutfitOfTheDay for the next month.’
‘Yeah, but I wore them once, didn’t I?’
‘And when was the last time you took a natural selfie?’
‘I took one of me slobbing in PJs on the sofa last week.’
‘You straightened your hair, put on clean PJs and reapplied a full face of make-up beforehand. Think about it, it’s all fake.’
Becca really doesn’t get Instagram.
‘But that’s just little stuff, isn’t it? I mean, this is huge. This is a big life event.’
‘You’re dating the guy, not marrying him. You said that the plan isn’t to do it forever. Plus, you never know, you might get to know him and you might like him.’
I give her a hard stare.
‘Sometimes these things creep up on you when you least expect it,’ she says.
‘Like you and Gareth?’ I blurt out and then I feel guilty.
‘Exactly.’ She blushes a little and pushes the sugar bowl round the table. ‘I wasn’t thinking that I was going to meet anyone, certainly not so soon.’
For so long Becca was my partner-in-crime nursing a broken heart and swearing off men, but ever since she started seeing Gareth she keeps nudging me back towards the dating game.
‘Look, this isn’t going to be To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,’ I say thinking of our recent Netflix watch.
‘I love that movie so much,’ she says, swooning.
‘Luke is no Peter Kavinsky, that’s for sure.’
‘But he could be. Isn’t that the point? You don’t know him well enough not to know that. I wasn’t sure about Gareth at first.’
‘That’s different. For starters, from what you’ve told me about Gareth, he’s not a self-obsessed arsehole.’
Becca laughs. ‘He definitely isn’t.’
‘I am almost willing to bet my life’s savings on the fact that mine and Luke Taylor’s relationship is going to be purely business.’
‘You don’t have any life savings.’
‘Very funny,’ I say, even though it’s woefully true. I take a deep breath. ‘Are you sure that I should do this?’
Becca’s always been the older sister I’ve never had and I’ve always looked up to her for advice.
‘I think that it might be fun for you to do it. You haven’t had the best few years and maybe it’s time for something good to happen. I know you’re not interested in him romantically, but you’ve worked so hard to get your Instagram following off the ground and if this is a little shortcut to get you there a bit quicker, then I say, why not?’
It has been a crappy few years, not just for me but for both of us. I moved in with Becca when Ben died, at a time when she needed me as much as I needed; her only now she’s starting to move on, and I guess it’s time for me to do the same.
‘You know what, you’re right,’ I say decisively. ‘I think I’m going to do it.’
‘So, when are you going to tell him?’
‘No time like the present,’ I say, feeling like I should strike whilst the iron’s hot before I get a chance to chicken out. I pull my phone out of my bag to send him a Whatsapp to tell him I’m in.
My phone beeps back immediately.
‘Looks like it’s on,’ I say to Becca as the waitress comes over and takes our order.
My phone beeps again and it’s a message from Luke telling me to check my Instagram.
I open it up and see that I’ve been tagged in a photo. It’s a side-profile photo with the Mexican café as the backdrop. He must have taken it when I was in my dream world watching Aidan.
I hold it out for Becca to see.
‘Wow, that’s such a gorgeous photo, so natural. And that caption,’ she says, whistling through her teeth.
‘I know, isn’t that something?’
I take my phone back from her and re-read it.
The post is punctuated with love heart emojis. It’s only been up a few minutes but it’s already racking up the likes. Luke was right, people are eating this stuff up.
I take a snapshot of Luke’s post asking me out and click to add a new photo to go alongside it. I tip the wrapped sugar cubes out onto the table and arrange them into letters. It takes a surprising amount to form the word yes.
‘Can you put your torch on on your phone,’ I ask Becca, checking the light levels with a test shot.
Becca obliges and when the cubes are illuminated in the right way I take my photo. I tag Luke and add a couple holding hands emoji hoping that people on my feed will scroll across to see his original question.
I put my phone down face down on the table, my cheeks feeling flushed. There’s no going back now – I’m officially fake dating Luke Taylor.