I Played Shy to Dodge Her Traps Then the Impostor Snapped Chapter 09

I Played Shy to Dodge Her Traps Then the Impostor Snapped Chapter 09

I stopped. He circled around to face me, looking me up and down.

“Chloe, are you ever going to tell me the truth?”

“You don’t actually have severe social anxiety, do you?”

He reached over and gave my shoulder a light shove. “I can’t believe you.”

“I spent all that time scared half to death that you were going to have a complete breakdown.”

“And this whole time, you were just messing with me.”

I widened my eyes, putting on my best terrified face. “Lucas, I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

“I… I really do have anxiety. It just comes and goes. Some days are better than others.”

“Back there, Hazel was literally trying to kill us. The adrenaline kicked in and it just… vanished for a minute.”

“But now… now it’s coming back.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Really. Then why doesn’t any of this add up?”

The truth? My anxiety around people was real. Just not nearly as bad as I’d been pretending. And honestly, I was kind of a talker.

My adoptive mom always said I was a completely different person around people I trusted versus everyone else. Around people I trusted, I couldn’t shut up. Around strangers, I turned into a hermit.

When we found out I was the real Ashford daughter, my adoptive mom came up with the plan. Play up the anxiety. Make it look worse than it was. Commit to the act completely.

“You don’t know what you’re walking into over there. So just act terrified.”

“If you never leave your room and never talk to anyone, there’s no way they can use you.”

“Just lie low, eat well, and see how it goes. If they’re good to you, stay. It’s your home anyway.”

“And if it’s not, come home. I’ll teach you the rest of what I know. You can take over the practice.”

I shook my head so fast I nearly pulled something. “You know what, I think I’ll make it work with the Ashfords.”

“Please. I can’t do one more day of testing bitter herbal brews.”

“But don’t worry. You’ll always be my real mom. No one could ever take your place.”

My adoptive mom rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I wish your anxiety wasn’t an act.”

“A little less talking would do wonders for your training.”

Lucas didn’t fully buy my explanation, but he let it go. A few days later, he introduced me to someone.

Julian Hayes. Lucas’s best friend. Sharp jaw, cool detachment written across every feature, and effortlessly tall. The kind of guy you couldn’t look away from even if you tried.

Lucas made the introductions, then conveniently remembered he had somewhere else to be.

On his way out, he leaned in close. “Julian’s personality is the perfect match for you. Trust me.”

“I’m not saying you have to date him. But spending time with someone like him could bring you out of your shell.”

After Lucas left, I sat there trying to figure out what he meant. How exactly was Julian’s personality supposed to balance mine out?

I was supposed to be the anxious, avoidant one. And Julian looked like the broody, untouchable type.

Then Julian set down his coffee. And his entire face lit up.

“Chloe, is that iced latte good? I almost ordered that.”

“Oh wait, where did you get that phone case? The green one? I love it.”

“Can you send me the link?”

“Wait, I just realized I don’t even know how old you are! You don’t look like a student, but you don’t look like you’re working full-time either.”

“Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?”

“What’s your go-to order? Have you been to that Cajun spot in Westlake?”

“Chloe? Hello? Why aren’t you talking? Wait, is the whole social anxiety thing actually real?”

Outside the coffee shop, Julian hadn’t slowed down for a second. “Chloe, do you live with Lucas? Because we’re totally going in different directions.”

“But even if we’re not, I still have to walk you home. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, right?”

I hit my limit. I took a deep breath. “Please. Stop. Talking.”

Julian’s mouth snapped shut. He gave me the most wounded, betrayed look I’d ever seen.

In the car, he lasted about thirty seconds before he spoke again, voice small and sulky. “Can I ask one last question?”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

He perked right up. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

“I can tell you like me. I mean… it’s the face, right? You can’t resist this face. Admit it, Trouble.”

I opened one eye. “Don’t give me nicknames.”

“Oh.” A beat of deflated silence. “So, Chloe. Where are we going tomorrow?”

I closed my eyes again and pretended to be asleep.

(The End)