The Pretend Girlfriend (14 page)

Why is he still in my room? Can't he just go sit down like I asked him?

She kept her back to the bed, afraid to look at it. Afraid that might draw his attention, and that he might ask her what the story was behind the mess. Which was ridiculous, she knew. No one ever asked questions like that. And no, he couldn't read her thoughts, either.

But whoever said fears had to be rational? No one who's ever been afraid of something.

"Well, we can't all be rich jet setters. Hey, here's the contract. Come on, the couch in the living room is comfier than it looks."

She squeezed by him through the doorway, then pulled the door shut. He needed to take a quick step back to avoid having it slamming in his face. Gwen made a mental note to always keep that door closed whenever Aiden was around.

Gwen pulled the curtains back from the living room window. The view was pretty dismal, being the apartment complex on the other side of the lot. But it let a good amount of light in.

Aiden examined the old couch in question, then sat down. It groaned beneath his weight, and he clutched at the armrest as though the whole thing might collapse under him. It didn't.

"The couch's bark is worse than its bite. And see? Nice and comfy!" Gwen said, plopping down beside him.

It groaned alarmingly at that, too, and Aiden again grabbed for the armrest. Gwen tried not to laugh. She'd done it on purpose. It was nice to see some genuine emotion on Aiden's face that wasn't irritation.

The couch, being old and worn like it was, bowed in towards the center. She couldn't keep from leaning in towards him a bit, their thighs touching lightly. If Aiden noticed the contact, he didn't say anything about it.

She put the contract on the table. Aiden leaned in and flipped through until he got to the conditions section. He started going over them. Somehow, the legalese sounded a little less dry when spoken with his voice. While listening, Gwen tore the plastic off her wrap and ate it.

She already knew all this stuff. Aiden kept glancing at her, waiting for questions.

"So, I take it you really did already look at it?" he said.

"Yep."

"Oh, well then. I guess I should probably get going," he said, looking down at the couch, trying to figure out the best exit strategy.

"No, I think you should stay," Gwen said.

"Oh?" Aiden replied, surprised. Gwen felt some of that, too.

"Yeah. See, this whole thing isn't going to work out until we get a few other things down. Things not covered in the contract."

"Like what?" Aiden said. He looked like he didn't know whether he should feel relief at not having to figure out how to get off the couch yet.

"Well, real relationships happen because people like each other. They get to know each other, you know? They find they have common interests, like the same music or movies or books. If we don't know anything about each other, how are we ever going to convince anyone this is serious?"

Aiden took that in and nodded slowly, apparently still not quite believing her. "Didn't you read the Wikipedia article?"

Gwen had been half expecting him to snort in derision and leave. Sarcasm laced his voice, but he didn't make any moves to get up. She took that as a good sign.

"Yeah, I did. And that told me some stuff, but that's all biographical. It doesn't tell me anything about the person behind those facts... Okay, like, I know that you're interested in charity, and ethical business practices. But what about..." Gwen glanced around the spare living room. When she saw the old TV, she smiled and looked back at him, "What about movies and TV?"

"What about them?"

"What do you like to watch? Like, have you ever seen
When Harry Met Sally
?"

It was something of a leading question. Looking at the TV reminded Gwen of her continued debate with Beatrice, about love and friendship between the sexes. She wondered which side of that argument Aiden supported. Though, she had a pretty strong inkling.

"Maybe once. A long time ago," he replied.

It took some more digging, some more prodding, and more probing questions, but Aiden eventually opened up. Gwen found that she really did want to know what he watched, what he listened to, the section of the bookstore he liked to check out first.

And her expectations didn't always line up with reality, either. Aiden did enjoy the occasional mindless shoot-em-up or thriller, but he also loved some real classics like
Casablanca
. His favorite book was
The Count of Monte Cristo
and he apparently liked to listen to classical works while studying, and classic rock while working out.

And that answered another of her questions: that he did, in fact, like to keep in shape. She eyed his shoulders and the way his tailored jacket hugged them.

And, she noticed, Aiden wasn't even forcing anything. He smiled when he told her about the first time he'd been out of North America.

Again, Gwen found herself experiencing a certain level of comfort with Aiden, a certain level of attraction. She looked down and both saw and felt their thighs still touching.

Wasn't it possible that he felt something, too? He said that he didn't. But maybe he was hiding it from himself, or just keeping it from her for some obscure reason.

And that led her into her next point.

"See? Now I know you a little better. But there's more than just knowing things about the other person. There are also feelings... It's hard to describe. There's this sort of... familiarity you feel with the other person. This comfort. Like when you've just met someone pretty much, but it feels like you've known them forever, you know?"

"Yes, I know," Aiden said. He made eye contact when he spoke, and Gwen felt a small flutter of excitement low in her chest.

Before she could ask the next question, she swallowed, then wet her lips. "Do... Do you ever feel that way about me?"

Aiden's eyes glassed over while he considered the question. "No. Really, Gwen, you're just not my type. Why? Do you feel that way with me?"

"What? No, of course not! Not even a little," Gwen said. She couldn't look at him anymore, so instead she focused on the potted plants on the sill of one of the apartments in the building across from her. Tiny, delicate looking white flowers shifted in the pot as the breeze brushed them.

She knew that she shouldn't have asked that; she already had the answer.
It must be all that touching and pretending,
she thought.
It made me think there was something where there was nothing.

Despite knowing that she shouldn't feel this way, bitter disappointment filled her.
It really is just a business deal to him,
she thought.

Still, there was one more thing, one last action she could take to try and see if he meant what he said. Gathering herself up, she turned her attention to him.

"Something else you wanted to know?" he said, misinterpreting her expression.

She shook her head, then said, "Kiss me."

"There's no one around, Gwen," he said.

"Just kiss me. There's something I need to know."

Seeing that she meant it, Aiden nodded. She expected some sort of resistance. She expected to have to lean into him.

She didn't expect for him to lightly slip his fingers around the back of her neck, leaving one hand on her thigh, while he pulled her close. Her lips parted slightly as his face filled her vision. Then she saw nothing but sparks and colors as she closed her eyes at the moment of contact.

It was just like in the car. Like an electric current passed from his mouth into hers, giving her prickles up and down her torso. His lips were soft on hers, and he tasted a little sweet from the latte.

His hand moved up from her thigh, coming to rest against her waist. He pulled her closer.

He was just as good a kisser as she remembered. Though her thoughts at the moment became rather fuzzy, due to obvious circumstances.

Again, her lips began parting as she really fell into the kiss, her body wanting more. And this time, there was no Henry Manning sitting across from them to cough politely and stop the whole thing.

No one can kiss like this and not feel something
, she thought. She brought her hand up to his cheek, felt the prickle of his stubble against her palm.

Then Aiden pulled away. Slowly, Gwen leaned back and opened her eyes. Her blood felt thin and hot, pumping through her veins impossibly fast. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap so that he couldn't see them tremble. When she licked her lips, she could taste his sweetness again.

"Oh..." she said, "You stopped."

"Yes, I thought that maybe you were upset about it lasting so long. It says in the contract..."

"I know what the contract says!" Gwen replied. She knew because it was one of her requirements. Chaste kisses only. And technically that kiss did violate the rules, because at that moment she felt anything but chaste.

The question was, what did Aiden feel?

"Did you find what you needed to know?" he asked.

"Maybe... Did you feel anything?" Besides me, she added silently, remembering his hands on her neck and waist.

"You're a nice kisser," he said.

She smiled. That was a start. A real compliment, even. "Anything else?"

"No. Should I have?"

Gwen's shoulders slumped. "No. I just wanted to make sure the first time wasn't a fluke or anything."

"Good thinking."

Gwen glanced back at the TV, her mind going back to that night with Beatrice. B, believing that men and women couldn't ever be just friends, told her that Gwen had probably left strings of guys in her past who’d felt something for her, but never got any of that feeling back in return because Gwen thought they were just friends. A trail of broken hearts.

Was this, then, some sort of cosmic justice or comeuppance? Was B right, and now Gwen was finally getting a taste of what she gave (or didn't, as was the case) to others?

She watched Aiden pick up the contract and scan down the page. Maybe B was right.

She didn't want to think about this anymore. Her thoughts had been busy with Aiden all day, and she needed a break.

"I think that's enough for now. I really need to get to work on a paper."

"I'll show myself out," Aiden said, bracing against the armrest for the push off the couch. Her thigh felt cold without his touching it.

She leaned back against the cushion and listened to him walk through the apartment. When the door closed behind him, she remembered his jacket on the rack. Gwen got up and went to the door.

He'd forgotten, or left, the jacket behind. Gwen rubbed the cuff between thumb and index finger, feeling the fine threads that made it up. If she smelled it, it would still have his scent, she knew.

Instead, she pressed her forehead against the door and stared down at her toes. She really did have an essay to work on, but she just couldn't. Not with all this confusion swirling around inside her. She needed to work through this if she wanted any chance of making it through this utterly bizarre situation she'd stumbled into.

N
ot knowing what else to do, desperately needing someone to talk to, she got in touch with Beatrice. B showed up later that evening, just before 7.

They stood in the kitchen, Gwen watching Beatrice pull the vodka out of the freezer and pour a healthy dose into a glass. She offered Gwen some, but Gwen declined, remembering the trouble that got her into the last time.

"Suit yourself," B said, throwing her head back and downing half of what she'd poured. "So, is this about Aiden, or have you finally decided to accept my offer and come live with me?"

"I'm not moving," Gwen replied. She'd forgotten that B still believed she was in trouble.
Well
, Gwen thought,
I am still in trouble. Just a different kind.
She quickly gave B an abbreviated version of the ring story.

"Man, really? That is just incredible! Next time Astor throws a party I'll see if I can get a look," B said.

That just elicited an internal groan on Gwen's part. Why did everything have to be so complicated? "I don't think they'll let you. They're probably super tight with security on it, now. I bet they'd even pretend the thing doesn't exist."

That seemed to satisfy Beatrice, who muttered something about tight-fisted rich people before turning her charm back on Gwen. "So it's about Aiden then, I take it."

"Yeah, things are just... different than I expected," Gwen started.

"You mean in bed? Yeah, rich guys like weird stuff," she said, her tone full of sage wisdom.

A number of images flashed through Gwen's head that she hoped never to experience again.

Gwen opened her mouth, then closed it, not really sure what to say to that. It might have been something like,
Is that why you like them so much?
but that wasn't somewhere she wanted to go. Not without having any alcohol in her, anyway.

"No, nothing like that. We haven't done anything like that anyway," Gwen said.

"You mean not yet. You haven't done any of that stuff yet."

"You're right, not yet I mean. It's just... I had this dream about him last night. One of those dreams, if you know what I mean."

This just earned her a snort and a rolling of the eyes. "Come on, Gwen, this isn't middle school anymore. It's okay to say 'sex' now. Just say it; you had a sex dream about the guy you're dating last night."

Gwen felt her cheeks burning. Then she realized that B was right. There wasn't anything to be embarrassed about. Or, at least, there wouldn't be if she and Aiden were actually dating. But she couldn't exactly say that to Beatrice. It wasn't like she was a prude or anything. She'd had boyfriends before. She'd had fantasies before (though none quite that vivid). But she'd never pretended to be someone's girlfriend for money. Someone who apparently didn't at all feel the same way about her as she did about him.

And Gwen also wasn't about to let on that Beatrice might be right about the whole men and women debate.

"I know, it's still just weird though, you know?"