Fake Behavior (A Mindless Behavior Story)

Chapter 9

Prodigy’s view was still towards the ground, which gave me enough time to get myself back together. I wasn’t going to break down right in front of a man who admitted the truth, no matter how cold hearted it was. Either way, I made a deal and I had to stick to it. Well, a stupid deal at that.

“It’s cool,” I mumbled, having the words come off my tongue like venom. 

Prod jerked his face up. “Wait, what?”

 “It’s cool,” I repeated myself, crossing both my arms together in frustration. “Walter’s plan is smart. I give him props.” 

As much disappointment I had saying that, the truth was that it really is a good plan. I mean, it caught me falling for Prod’s scheme.

The truth is that Prodigy is a living puppet to Walter. Even though this fake dating idea is Walter’s original plan, he had Prodigy beg for my agreement in replacement of him. He had Prodigy ask me out, making me think otherwise. He also had Prodigy play actor with me in front of their own fans, just so Mindless Behavior could be on the cover frequently. I scoffed silently. In the future, I wouldn't be surprised if he had Prodigy do his dirty work for him. Prodigy's a doll Walter was playing dress up with. He's a coward for not talking to me straight up, and because of this, I grew major disrespect for him.

This act made me even wonder if Prod actually does like me as a best friend, or even as a friend. Ironically enough, I realized that I was turning into a puppet myself.

Prod looked shocked; his jaw dropped wide enough for flies to buzz in. He was absolutely dumbfounded. He probably expected me heart broken – to the point where I would practically bawl on my knees out of sorrow. To be honest, if we weren’t in public, I probably might have.

I kissed my teeth out of anger; not on Prod, but for myself for actually agreeing to that stupid deal. If it was not for Prodigy’s miserable begging, I wouldn't think twice about being his fake girlfriend. I mean, look where it lead me to – false hope then complete heartbreak. 

“Let’s just go,” I said grabbing his loose fingers, ready to face whatever cheap date was coming up.

The walk started becoming silent, carefree, and awkward in all. Prod was slightly smiling as if we were having the best conversation ever, but I knew the guy for my whole life; he was faking. 

I was glad he didn’t talk, or bring up any conversations at that. There was nothing to be discussed anyway. I didn’t spy any paparazzi’s anywhere, but you could never trust the naked eye when finding paps.

Prod slowed his pace when we arrived at barren grassy area. I looked around. Tthere were children on swing sets, parents sitting on benches, dog walkers, and some motivated joggers. We were just at a small park.

“What?!” I yelled, frustrated.

He shot me an innocent look. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me!” I replied, getting heated. “I thought you said there’d be food!” 

It was witty that I was fussing over a meal, but ever since Prod spilled the truth like gravy, food was all I looked forward to on this "date".

I heard Prod chuckle lightly at my behavior. “It’s over there, silly.” I saw him point towards a small hill not far away. “You think you can manage?" 

Nodding my head in angerment, I felt myself slightly tense up. So first he laughs at how hungry I was, and now he was making fun of it? I was getting angrier and angrier at his slick judgement and actions.

We began walking there in the silence we had before, except now I felt even more impatient. All I wanted was this "date" to be over. 

Prod stopped when he saw a fairly large picnic basket perfectly laid out on checkered tablecloth. In the middle were two wine bottles; between them was a silver candlestick. There was nobody around us, whic made the scene a tad romantic.

I saw him bend down to open the woven basket, placing some shiny white plates, silver utensils, and wine glasses for the both of us on the cloth.

“Sorry I’m setting up last minute,” he apologized while I sat down. “I didn’t want them to get dirty.”  I saw him take out a bowl of mashed potatoes, macaroni, and a plate full of finger sandwiches. Thinking that would be all, I was proven wrong. He brought out more and more foods.

“You bought all of this?” 

“No, I made all of it.” I saw him slightly smile.

I couldn’t help myself but to feel plain guilty. Although we weren’t really on a date, Prod sure treated this event like we are. I was stunned, and I knew this event wasn’t even to please me, but the public.

“Oh! And I cooked your favorite!” He lifted a bowl full of bow tied pasta. “Four cheese pasta!” 

Without even noticing, a smile formed on my lips. The fact that he really did cook all of this food, just for a “date”, got me falling all over again. Maybe Prodigy, deep down inside, was something else. As I bent down, having my knees touch the fabric surface, he handed me a bowl of pasta. I took a bite, having the flavor satisfy my tastebuds. Prodigy chuckled as I moaned from the delectable treat, taking a bite from his bowl as well.

He noted how "top chef" he was. Even I couldn't argue with him, because denying his cooking skills was a complete deception. Randomly, he brought up our history, from the time he dressed up as Superman for Halloween to when his pants fell on the first day of fourth grade. I roared with laughter, having the feeling of pleasure and enjoyment from past experiences bleed right through me. He chuckled as well, bringing up more nostalgic memories between me and him.

For the time being, I actually forgot that this was all just an act.