The Pretend Girlfriend(70)

"Well... yeah. But also the probation. Drink up; this stuff isn't free! And stop trying to change the subject! Really, what are you going to do about next month's rent?" Beatrice said, forcing the shot glass into Gwen's hand.

Trying to buy some time, Gwen downed that shot. So much panicked adrenaline flooded her veins that she hardly felt the sting of the liquor going down her throat. What do I do? Gwen thought. I don't want to keep lying to B... I'm tired of all this lying.

But Gwen still felt afraid of how B might react and judge her. And also how B probably wouldn't be able to keep it to herself.

"So?" Beatrice said.

"I've, uh, got it covered."

"How?"

She thought she could tell Beatrice that Aiden gave her some money, but then reconsidered. Would that look better or worse than signing a contract to pretend to be his girlfriend? Probably better, she figured, but by how much? Both made her look desperate, or like a gold digger, or both.

Gwen shifted her butt on the barstool. Why did they have to make these things so uncomfortable? It felt like sitting on a slab of granite.

Luckily (unluckily?) for Gwen, a frat guy with a popped collar shirt came to the rescue. He leaned against the bar next to Gwen and let his elbows slide forward, which displayed his bare, waxed chest. Only the bottom two buttons on his shirt were done up. "Hey, babe," he said, "That dress is hot. And you are smokin'."

"Thanks, I guess," Gwen said. She hadn't really been expecting any sort of advances. The bar just seemed too quiet for it. Normally, she just passed these guys on to Beatrice, who was an expert at stringing them along for loads of free drinks. Gwen didn't really pity them for getting taken like that, figuring they got what they deserved.

Except that tonight was anything but usual. For one, she now had Aiden. She thought about how he said he was jealous when Liam flirted with her at the track. If only he were there now to see this guy hitting on her.

Usually, Gwen didn't enjoy this sort of attention. She'd gotten over the whole bar scene after her first year at school. If it weren't for Beatrice, she probably wouldn't really go to places like this anymore. Her standard role was that of wing man, sifting through the guys who came up and sending away the ones she didn't think B would like.

Take this guy, for example. Shirt already mostly undone, as previously mentioned. Frosted tips in his spiked hair, and a pair of sunglasses hanging off the back of his head. A real bro. Easily worth a couple free drinks and maybe even an appetizer or the like to Beatrice.

Except this time, Gwen didn't pass him on to Beatrice. "Hi," she said.

"What's your name?" the guy said.

"Gwen. You?"

"Lance," he replied. Of course it was going to be something like Lance. She bet he had a load of jokes about that ready to go, tucked up into his rolled-up sleeve.

"Nice to meet you," she said.

Lance didn't bother to try and sneak or steal glances at her. He was brazen, checking her out openly, appreciating her. He moved in closer, sensing acceptance. Some sort of cheap cologne or body spray wafted from him. "What are you doing later?" he said.

"I'm not sure, why?" Gwen replied. Alarm bells started ringing in her head, and she kept asking herself why she didn't just send him packing.

"Well, I know something we could do. It takes two, though. Sometimes three," Lance said, sending a wink over Gwen's shoulder to Beatrice, who in turn sat there dumbfounded as she watched the display.

And then Gwen realized why she'd let him go so far. It felt good. Lance might be a sleazy, greasy, horny frat boy, but at least he didn't lie to her about it, or to himself. It was an honest desire he expressed for her, and she appreciated that honesty, since Aiden wasn't being so open with her.

There was no pretending, no lying. But then again, there was nothing else to go along with that basic desire. No real connection like the one she felt with Aiden.

Disgusted with herself, she turned away from Lance, back towards the bar.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" he said.

Not looking at him, Gwen replied, "Nothing, sorry. I'm just not interested."

He put his hand on her shoulder and Gwen went stiff. "That's not how things were going a second ago..."

"Get your hand off her, now," Beatrice said, speaking through clenched teeth, the warning tone in her voice evident. She liked to play and flirt, but could also be protective like a mama bear at a moment's notice.

"Hey, fine, okay. Mixed messages much? Enjoy your evening, ladies," Lance said, sauntering back to the table where his bros sat. They all started laughing as he related whatever version of the story he'd made up on his way back.

Gwen snatched the shot glass from the bar and downed the vodka. What was that now, two or three? She couldn't remember. Whatever the number, she certainly started feeling it as a pleasant fuzziness, a dulling of her thoughts