One Week Girlfriend
Page 10

“I’m not using her,” I start but Adele cuts me off with a look.
“You think I didn’t miss that tentative little kissing session in the backseat of the car? Just because your dad and I were fighting doesn’t mean I’m not aware of every single thing you do.” Her smug smile fills me with revulsion. “I’m sorry, but whatever that was between you two looked like two beginners who have no idea what you’re doing with each other. Like you’ve never even touched each other before. Tell me the truth. Are you really with her?”
Panic settles in and my throat is as dry as the Sahara. I don’t want to answer. It’s none of her goddamned business, but I know she won’t let it go. She’ll keep at it and keep at it until I give in. I used to always give in to Adele, and I hate that about myself.
Hate it.
I glance across the table, trying to catch my dad’s eye, but he’s so engrossed in conversation with the guy sitting next to him, he’s not noticing anything. “We’re really together,” I say through clenched teeth, trying not to look at her. The disgusted sound she makes draws my attention though, despite my efforts.
Her eyes flicker the slightest bit, revealing her hesitation, but she forges on. “So. Is she any good in bed? Does she know any special tricks?”
Jesus. I knew this would eventually happen, but not here. Not surrounded by hundreds of people. “Don’t f**king go there.”
Her smile widens. She knows she’s struck a nerve. “Does she keep you satisfied, Andrew? That’s rather difficult, you know. Once someone breaks down all those steel walls you so carefully build around yourself, you’re quite…insatiable.”
Shame washes over me and I stand so fast, my chair falls to the ground with a loud clatter. Everyone at our table looks at me, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Adele sits there as serene as a queen on her throne. She doesn’t bother looking at me. She knows what she’s done.
“You okay, son?” my dad asks, his brows furrowed.
I don’t answer him. Instead, I escape, desperate to get away from Adele. I need to get out of this crowd. The room feels like it’s closing in on me, and my head is spinning. I don’t know if it’s from anxiety or the two beers I drank tonight.
All I know is I need fresh air. I’m headed for the terrace.
Headed for Fable.
Fable
“You’re still at Wade’s house, right?” I take a drag of my cigarette and exhale, momentarily captivated by the thin tendrils of smoke that float in the air. It’s cold as hell and I’m totally sneaking this stupid cigarette, since there are no smoking signs all over this freaking terrace. What’s the point of having an outdoor area if you’re not going to let people smoke?
“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here.” Owen sounds irritated as hell but I don’t care. It’s past nine o’clock, he should be in bed at ten and I want to make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be.
“Bedtime is ten, don’t forget it.” I flick ashes over the railing, again with the litterbug routine and I feel like a shit. What is it about all these fancy rich people that makes me act like I grew up in a gutter?
“But that’s so early. Wade doesn’t go to bed til eleven.” He’s whining. Yet again. Reminding me that he’s completely immature and still in so many ways a little boy, though he’s desperate to prove he’s practically a man who can take care of himself.
“Well, good for Wade. I still think you should at least be in bed by ten,” I relent, knowing he probably won’t listen to me.
I hate being away from him. There’s something going on, something he’s hiding from me, but I can’t put my finger on exactly what. I just hope he can keep his act together until I at least come home.
“Whatever,” Owen mutters. “Most of the time, you act like you’re my mom, you know?”
My throat swells up and I fight off the tears. I’m totally emotional tonight and I can’t really explain it. I blame Drew and his stupid, perfect lips. That kiss rattled some weird emotion inside my chest and I’ve been near tears ever since. “Someone has to stay on top of you.”
He laughs. “Ain’t that the truth?”
“Oh my God, use real words, please.” I laugh too, pleased that he’s in a good mood. Earlier when I talked to him, he’d been wary and evasive. I don’t want him keeping secrets from me, but I know it’s natural, considering he’s thirteen and all. His behavior will only get worse too, I’m sure. But I’m prepared. At least as prepared as I can be.
Men and their deep, dark secrets. I know Drew’s got a ton of them. I’m not sure what they are, but I have feeling they’re pretty major. He’s all bottled up and tense. I felt it in his body when he kissed me and I was in his arms. His body rigid, as if he was holding himself back.
I didn’t want him to hold back. Not then, and definitely not now. He puts up this façade for everyone and I’m starting to wonder exactly who is the real Drew. And does he even know?
“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Be good.” I draw on the cig, hold the smoke in my lungs before I release it slowly. God, I know how bad this is for me but I can’t help it. Smoking relaxes me. And hanging out at this shitty country club dinner, I need as much relaxing as I can get.
“Bye, Fabes.” No one else calls me that, just Owen. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” I whisper, ending the call. I clutch the phone in a death grip since I don’t have a purse and I really don’t feel like shoving it in between my boobs.
“Smoking kills, you know.”
Drew’s sexy, deep voice washes over me and I glance over my shoulder, spotting him standing a few feet away. His hands are shoved in his pockets and the wind ruffles his dark hair.
He looks irritated and so gorgeous with it I wish I could take a picture. So I could capture this single breathtaking moment for all eternity and always have it—and him—with me.
“Following me?” I ask as I stub out the cigarette on the wooden railing. I don’t know what to do with it, so I leave it there like the total litterbug I’ve become.
“I needed to get out of there.”
“Me too,” I sigh. I turn my attention back to the golf course and just beyond, the ocean. I wonder if we’ll come back here so I can see this view in the daylight. These rich people have no idea what sort of beauty surrounds them. They see this every single day and it’s nothing special. They probably don’t even notice.
I wonder what it’s like, to be that numb to such beautiful surroundings. Of course, I’m numb to the mundane that surrounds me on a daily basis. Maybe we all move through life comfortably numb. Reminds me of one of my mom’s favorite songs.
“Is your brother okay?”
“He’s fine.” I shrug. Drew’s only asking because he’s being polite. Standing outside, alone in the cold night air for only a few minutes, has made this situation between us clearer. And I need that, after the mind-boggling kiss we shared.
He doesn’t care about me and I don’t care about him. We’re doing a job and that’s it. The kiss? A one-off, a way to let off steam because hey, spending all this time together in such close quarters and pretending to be a real couple is going to generate some…friction. Heat. Sexual chemistry.
We have it. Chemistry. I can feel it now, pinging between us, singeing my skin. I feel his eyes on me, can hear him approach and now he’s standing next to me, his arms propped against the railing just like mine. He bumps his elbow into me in a friendly gesture and I shiver. The wind is like ice and it bites at my bared skin.
“You’re cold.” His low murmur ripples along my nerve endings and I want to yell at him to back off.
But I don’t.
“Sort of,” I answer.
He chuckles. “If I had a jacket, I’d make you wear it.”
I don’t want him to act like a gentleman. Or like a kind, attentive boyfriend. I don’t want any of these…lies. What I need is reality. Cold, hard facts. I need to remember the money sitting in my bank account, the fact that he’s using me to push his family away. The fact that I’m using him to ensure temporary financial stability for my pitiful little family needs to stay prominent in my mind. I can’t forget it.
“We should probably go inside,” I start to stay but he touches me, settles his big hand over mine and I shut up.
“I can’t go back in there,” he says, his voice so low, I almost don’t hear him. “I can’t face them. Not yet. Stay out here with me.”
Did something happen in there that I missed? He doesn’t seem too upset, but I don’t know him that well to tell. I don’t answer him, figure it’s best to remain quiet and try to reassure him and he doesn’t say anything either.
But he does wrap his arm around my shoulders and haul me in close to him. I try to resist at first, stiffening my body so he can’t really move me. But it’s stupid to fight this, especially with the promise that he’ll warm me up.
So I go. Let him guide me into his arms and he wraps them around me and I’m resting my hands on his hard, warm chest. His hands settle at the small of my back and I’m pressed against the railing, pressed against him. His body is hard and unyielding. He’s trapped me and I have no interest in escaping.
I’m going against everything I thought and worried over only moments ago, all because he’s touching me.
When it comes to Drew, I’m weak. So weak, it’s almost embarrassing. But he seems just as weak over me, and I find that reassuring. At least we’re in this screwed up mess together.
“Did something happen in there?” I ask, curiosity killing me. I had to know.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I risk glancing up at him and I see how tight his jaw is. “Well, if you ever do want to talk, I’m here.”
He glances down at me. There’s such despair in his eyes, my chest aches for him. This perfect, beautiful boy is not so perfect after all. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I laugh, though I’m not mocking him and I hope he gets that. “I’d understand more than you think.”
“If I told you the truth, you’d hate me.” His voice is harsh, his expression pained. “I hate me for what I’ve done.”
My stomach sinks into my toes. He sounds so lost and I realize he’s right. Maybe I don’t want to know. What he’s saying—well, not saying—fills me with uneasiness. I’m scared.
What did he do that he hates himself so much?
~* Chapter Eight *~
Day 3, 7:02 p.m.
I always want the one I can’t have. – Fable Maguire
Fable
He’s ignored me all day, which is fine. Really. I don’t mind being left alone at the guesthouse because oh my God, the last thing I want to do is hang out with that screwed up set of parents of his. Drew took off to golf with his dad early this morning and I haven’t seen him since. I have no idea if he’s even come home. For all I know, they could be making happy family time at the main house while I’m stuck here alone.
Yikes, I sound bitter even in my own head. And besides, I know he’s not home because I’ve been here all day and haven’t seen them return.
Being alone has brought me back to reality though. Again. And this is a good thing. I get too caught up with Drew when I’m with him and that’s definitely not a good thing. This way, spending time by myself at this unreal house with the unreal view, I know it’s all a fantasy.
I caught Adele snooping around the guesthouse earlier. Peeking in the windows, walking around the entire house. I watched her for a bit, hiding in corners but then I started to get mad. What was she doing? Trying to spy on me? Or was she looking for Drew?
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and threw open the door when I saw her skulking around the front. “Looking for someone?” I asked her, using the snottiest tone I could muster.
She crossed her arms in front of her, elegant as always in a pure white sweater and black leggings. I would look like a slob in a similar outfit. Of course, hers was probably designer and cost tons of money, while my sweater and leggings would come from Wal Mart or Target. “I thought you were gone,” she said.
“Hoping I was gone, I’m sure.” I don’t know where I got the balls to talk to her like that, but I’d had it. The ride home the night before had been a study in torture. No one talked and the tension had been near unbearable. A complete turnaround from the ride to the country club, when Drew and I kissed and he had his hands all over me.
She smirked. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
“I figured the feeling was mutual.” I shrug, trying my best to look like I didn’t care, but inside my stomach had churned with nerves.
“You won’t last, you know. You’re not his type.”
I frowned. Of course, I’m not his type. That’s pretty freaking obvious, but I didn’t figure his bitch of a stepmother would so blatantly call me out on it. “And what, exactly, is Drew’s type?”
“Someone more like me.” Her smile grew, like she knew her words socked me straight in the stomach. Without another word, she turned and walked away.
Adele’s answer stuck with me the rest of the day. What the hell did she mean? I didn’t like it. She talks about Drew, looks at Drew, as if he belongs to her. Almost like they’re the ones in the relationship. It’s freaking creepy and makes me wonder if maybe they’ve fooled around in the past.