One Week Girlfriend(9)

Or at least, it was. Now though…fuck. I don’t know.

She confuses me. What I think, what I feel when she’s around, confuses me. And I don’t even know her. I’m totally getting ahead of myself and I don’t know how to stop it.

“There’s going to be no sex,” she says again. Almost like she’s trying to convince herself as well as me. “No blowjobs either.”

“I don’t want any of that.” It’s the truth—at least, that’s what I tell myself. She’s hot, there’s no denying it, but sex brings nothing but trouble. I’m not about to fool around with a girl who has an easy reputation and who’s literally at my beck and call for the next week. It’s pointless.

Right?

“But we’re going to have to pretend we like each other,” I remind her. “That we’re supposed to be…in love.” The last word was hard for me to say. I don’t really use it. My dad never tells me he loves me. Adele has. But her love is tainted with shitty conditions and stuff I don’t want to think about.

I fucking can’t think about her, or I’ll explode.

“I can do that,” Fable says easily.

Realization dawns. I’m such an idiot. “I’ll have to hold your hand and put my arm around you. Hug you.” I didn’t consider that.

“No big deal.” She shrugs.

“I’ll have to kiss you, too.” Yeah, didn’t consider that either.

She blatantly stares at me, her gaze dropping to my mouth. Is she thinking about kissing me? “I don’t think that will be a hardship. Can you handle it?”

“Hell yeah, I can.” I sound way more confident than I feel.

“If you say so,” she drawls as she settles deeper into her seat.

And damn it, I know she sees right through me. That should freak me out.

It freaks me out more that it doesn’t seem to bother me at all.





~* Chapter Four *~



The Night Before (doesn’t count)



I want to believe in the fairytale. – Fable Maguire



Drew



As I drive my truck down the long winding driveway, the house comes into view, every single window blazing with light. There are about a bazillion windows, the house is so damn big, and it’s making a grand impression. Worry slams into me and I wonder if they’re home after all.

I’d hoped to avoid them until morning.

The tension coming off Fable is obvious. Reality’s hitting, I guess. It’s happening to me too. That I have to go into that house and face my demons. Totally dramatic and I sound like a chick, but shit. It’s the truth.

“Your house is huge,” she murmurs.

“Yeah.” I hate it. Losing my sister…the most momentously awful thing in the whole world that ever happened in my life happened here. Even though she died almost exactly two years ago, it still feels like yesterday.

Deep in my heart, I know her death was partly my fault. And Adele’s. This is one of the many reasons why I don’t want to be here.

“And it’s right by the ocean.” Fable sounds wistful. “I love the ocean. I rarely get to go.”

“There’s stairs right off our back deck that’ll take you straight to the beach,” I say, trying to give her something to look forward to.

The smile she flashes me eases me somewhat, but not much.

This isn’t going to be a comfortable visit. I was fooling myself, thinking Fable would make it easy. Her presence will make it a little less stressful, but there’s still tension and anger and sadness, too many emotions wrapped up in this place, this time of year. By the time we leave, she’s probably going to think I’m completely crazy.

Will she tell anyone about me? I didn’t even think of that. Proving once again I didn’t think this plan through thoroughly enough. Everything’s going to end up biting me in the ass in the end. I can feel it. I can’t trust anyone.

No one. Definitely not this girl sitting next to me, chewing on her index finger as if she’s going to gnaw it to the bone. She’s nervous, but she’s got nothing on me.

My palms are sweating and I feel like I’m going to throw up. It’s one thing to see my parents when we go on vacation rather than face the realities of what happened inside our house. It’s another thing entirely when I’m coming home and the last time I’ve been here is almost two years ago exactly.

“Are you okay?” Fable’s voice breaks the silence and it’s full of concern. “You’re breathing funny.”

Great. “I’m fine,” I say on an exhale, desperate to keep my shit together.

I pull my truck in front of the closed garage and cut the engine, let the silence envelope me for a second. I can hear Fable’s soft, even breathing, the quiet tick of the engine and the scent of her perfume, her shampoo, whatever it is, lingers in the air. It’s light, a little sweet, like vanilla or chocolate, I can’t tell, and it doesn’t fit the tough girl persona she projects.