One Week Girlfriend(15)

He’s lying, I can tell. I’m so damn good at reading the kid I should be his mother. “You better. I’ll call Wade’s house later tonight to check on you.”

“Gimme a break, Fable. What, you can’t trust me?” He’s whining, sounding like the little brother I remember again. Another sign he’s lying.

“Nope, not when I’m out of town.” My cell beeps, indicating I have a text message and I pull the phone away from my ear to check it real quick.

It’s from Drew. And it’s only one word.

Marshmallow.

Crap.

“Hey, I gotta go, but I’m calling you later tonight and I’m going to talk to Wade’s mother. Make sure you’re okay and doing homework and whatever else you need to do.”

“Fable, that is such bull—”

“Bye.” I hang up before Owen pisses me off more and I immediately text Drew back.

I can’t come rescue you if I don’t know where you are.

My heart is beating way too hard after I send that text. This is the first time Drew used the marshmallow code word and I’m worried about him. Yesterday was all about hanging out at the house. I spent the entire afternoon at the beach when Drew and his dad went and golfed at a course not too far from the house. There are a ton of amazing golf courses there, Drew explained to me, not that I really cared. I think golf’s boring, but I guess Adele went with them though she doesn’t play. She probably chased after them on the golf cart the entire time.

Sunday night dinner had been a study in weirdness. Adele tried to talk to him, constantly asking Drew really personal questions while virtually ignoring me. His dad oblivious to the strange vibe, kept pace with a constant full glass of wine and was slurring his words by the end of the night.

I gladly escaped right after the meal, claiming I was tired from midterms and all those papers I had to write, which was a complete lie since I don’t go to college. Drew pled the same case. We both went back to the guesthouse and to our respective rooms. I’d been so tired I thought I would instantly fall asleep but I didn’t. I laid awake for over an hour, thinking about Drew and the crazy family dynamics he has going on here.

My phone beeps and I glance at the screen.

At a restaurant at Sixth and Ocean. I need to get out of here. I’ll wait outside for you.

Looks like I need to go rescue my fake boyfriend from his overbearing father.



Drew



The moment I see her, I let go of the ball of anxiety rolling around in my chest with a deep, cleansing breath. I wait outside the restaurant, telling Dad I needed to use the phone, when really I just wanted to wait for Fable.

And get away from him.

She’s smiling at me as she approaches, her blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail, revealing her rounded cheeks, her pert nose and her rosebud lips. The more I look at her, the prettier I think she is. Though not just pretty…

Fable’s hot. Sexy as hell with a fine body that I’ve seen in various stages of undress since we’ve been staying at the guesthouse. I caught her in a towel this morning when she snuck out of the bathroom and darted across the hall into her room. She didn’t even see me.

But I saw her. All that creamy, dewy bared skin on display that made me want to chase after her. Haul her in close and feel her wrap around me. Tangle my fingers into her wet hair and tug, bringing her mouth to mine…

Holy shit. Just remembering that sets my skin on fire. I try my damnedest to keep everyone at arm’s length, especially girls, but Fable’s already getting under my skin and making me want.

Her.

Wearing skintight jeans and an oversized black sweater, she looks good enough to eat. And I never think like that. Ever. She’s making me think and feel things that are somehow both uncomfortable and freeing.

In other words, Fable leaves me in a constant state of confusion.

“Here I am.” She stops just in front of me, her head coming only to my chest, she’s so short. I could scoop her up, toss her over my shoulder and carry her out of here, no problem. “Ready to rescue you.”

Code word marshmallow hasn’t been used yet, so I’m pleased at how fast she comes to me. Not that my dad is being particularly bad or yelling. He just won’t stop asking me questions about my future. Stuff I can’t answer because I have no clue what’s going to happen.

I finally couldn’t take it anymore and texted marshmallow when I made a bathroom escape.

Now here she was. Ready to whisk me away.

“Thanks for showing up.”

“Is he being hard on you?”

“No, I just…don’t want to answer all of his questions.”

“Oh.” That one single non-word is loaded with all sorts of questions itself. None I can answer either.