One Week Girlfriend(10)

She’s a contradiction and I want to figure her out.

“Listen. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling this is going to be difficult for you. Am I right?” She settles her hand over mine on the steering wheel, the tips of her tiny fingers smoothing along my knuckles. I flinch at her touch but she doesn’t move. I’m shocked that she’s actually reaching out and trying to reassure me.

Nodding, I swallow hard, try to muster up a few words, but nothing comes out.

“I have a fucked up family too.” Her quiet voice reaches inside of me and instantly calms my nerves. Her easy acceptance is unexpected.

“Doesn’t everyone?” I’m trying to joke, but most of the time I believe I’m alone with the madness. No one’s family is as fucked up as mine.

“I don’t think so. Shit, I don’t know.” She smiles and it eases over my heart as I stare at her. “Just…remember to breathe, okay? I know you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong with you, or why you hate your family so much, but I get it. I totally get it and if you need to get away from them, even for five minutes, I’ll help you. We should have a code word or something.”

I frown. “A code word?”

“Yeah.” She nods and her eyes light up. Like she’s really getting into this. “For example, your dad is being an asshole, asking you what you want to do with your life, and you can’t take it any longer. Just say, marshmallow and I’ll interrupt him and pull you out of there.”

A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Marshmallow?”

“Totally random, right? It makes no sense. That’s what makes it better.” Her smile grows and so does mine.

“What if you’re not around?” I have a feeling I’ll never let her out of my sight, but I know that’s impossible.

“Text me marshmallow. Wherever I’m at, I’ll come running.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

Her eyes meet mine, and they’re glowing, they’re so bright. And pretty. Fuck, she’s really pretty. Why didn’t I realize this before? I’m attracted to her and I’m attracted to no one. “I’m totally willing to do the job you paid me for.”

The warm fuzzies are doused with a bucket of icy cold water at her words. A brutal reminder that what we’re doing, this fake relationship we’re taking part in is nothing but a job for her. “You’re right.”

Stupid me. I was hoping she’d rescue me because she wanted to.



Fable



This house is as big as a museum and just as cold too. It’s beautiful, quiet and immaculate, with a hushed quality to it that truthfully scares me to death. The door clicks shut behind us with a finality that sends a chill down my spine and I follow Drew down a wide hall covered with various family photos I plan on studying later. I hear voices coming from the room at the end of the short hall and then we’re there. In a giant living room with an entire wall of windows that overlooks the ocean. I can see the white-capped waves from beyond the glass, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

Drew doesn’t even notice it. He’s too focused on the two people sitting on the couch, the both of them drawing their long, thin bodies from the plush dark brown velvet and approaching us with quick steps.

Nerves eat at my stomach and all of a sudden my hand is clasped in Drew’s, our fingers interlocking. The show of affection startles me for a moment, but then I remember.

I’m his girlfriend. I’m playing a role and so is he and we’re doing it for these very people who are now standing in front of us with expectant looks on their faces.

“Andrew. It’s so good to see you. You look positively delicious.” The stepmother says this and I find the compliment odd. Who calls their stepson delicious?

Drew doesn’t like it either, I can tell. He lets go of my hand and slips his arm around my shoulders, hauling me in close to him. I collide against a warm, solid body and tingles wash over me. He’s as hard as a rock and I have no choice but to slip my arm around his waist and cling to him for dear life. Not that I’m protesting.

This is all a diversion to avoid his stepmom’s hug. She has her arms out and everything but she drops them to her side, the pouting disappointment on her beautiful face clear. And when I say beautiful, I mean stunningly gorgeous. Her near-black hair is long and straight, hangs almost to her waist. Her cheekbones are sharp, her skin a warm olive color and her eyes espresso dark. She towers over me and with her slender build I can’t help but wonder if she was once a model.

“Is this your little Fable?” Her condescending voice sets me on edge and I stiffen my spine. Drew spreads his hand wide across the small of my back, his fingers pressing into me, and his touch is reassuring.