One Week Girlfriend

by Monica Murphy

  “Me either,” I whisper.

  He smiles at me and I feel it like a dagger to my softening heart. “Sounds like we might make a good pair after all.”

  Drew

  The second the words fall out of my mouth, I want to snatch them back. We are definitely not a good pair. She’s the worst sort of girl for me and I know it. It’s why I’m bringing her home. So my dad will think I’ve scored a hot little football groupie who gives it up to me whenever I want and Adele will finally leave me alone.

  Fable really is a team groupie. She’s supposedly banged half the guys this season alone, though I don’t know how accurate the rumors are. This is how I first discovered her existence. A bunch of guys from the team were talking about her when we were at La Salle’s one night right after the semester started. After she took our table’s order, they compared notes and bragged how great in bed she is. One of them even pinched her ass when she walked by, earning a dirty look from her that made them all laugh.

  Her reputation—and her feisty reaction—was my first clue she might make the perfect fake girlfriend. I don’t fool around with any of those girls who hang around the locker room after practice or after a game. I don’t really fool around with anyone. It’s easier that way. You give girls a little bit of yourself and they always want more, more, more. Things I can’t give them. I shut myself off to make my life bearable. I’m like a damn machine sometimes.

  Unfeeling. Uncaring. Emotionless.

  My dad worries about me. I know he thinks I’m some sort of pussy who can’t get laid, which blows his mind. He’s confronted me about it before, asking me point blank if I’m gay.

  The question had come out of nowhere and I was so shocked, I started laughing. That pissed him off more, and though I denied the accusation, I know he didn’t really believe me.

  Hopefully, showing up with Fable hanging all over me will end that worry.

  Damn. I know I’m a jackass for doing this, thinking like this. For using Fable in such a shitty way, but it isn’t the only reason she’s going with me. Not that I can tell her the truth, but if I did? She might understand. She looks like the sort of girl who would get it. Who might’ve gone through some of the same bullshit I have.

  What we really need to do is talk about our supposed relationship more. I have to stop being so wrapped up in my worry over going home and ask her more questions. “You only have your little brother then, huh?”

  “Yes, just me and Owen. And my mom.” Her voice tightens. I figure she doesn’t like her mom very much.

  I can relate.

  “You don’t get along with your mom?”

  “She’s never around to get along with. I’m always working and she’s always screwing around with her latest boyfriend.” The bitterness is obvious. No love lost between those two.

  “And your dad?”

  “I don’t know him. He’s never been a part of my life.”

  “But if Owen’s only thirteen…” I’m confused.

  “Different guy. That one didn’t stick around either.” Fable shakes her head. “My mom knows how to pick them.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m not comfortable with the personal stuff. I have friends, but none of them are really close. The guys I hang out with are from my team and we talk football and sports and that sort of bullshit. Sometimes we talk about girls, though I just sit there and laugh at whatever they say. I never really join in. I don’t have much to add.

  Here’s the deal. I could have any girl I want. I know this. Yes, I’m an arrogant ass to think like this, but it’s true. I look all right, I’m smart and I play decent football. The girls want me even more because I don’t pay them any attention.

  They all want something. Something I can’t give. At least with Fable, I was upfront with what I needed from her from the start and I compensated her right away. She won’t want anything else from me.

  It’s easier that way. Safer.

  “Can I ask you a question?” She knocks me from my thoughts with her sweet voice. She looks all tough, with the heavy eye makeup and the dark clothes, and that platinum blonde hair. But she has the most lyrical voice I’ve ever heard.

  “Sure.” I’m opening this discussion up for potential disaster. I can sense it.

  “Why me?”

  “Huh?” I play dumb. I know what she means.

  “Why did you choose me to be your pretend girlfriend? I know I’m not the ideal choice. Let’s be real here.”

  She must be a mind reader. “I knew you wouldn’t give me a lot of trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I’m going to fuck this up, I can feel it in my bones. “Any other girl wouldn’t want to just pretend to be my girlfriend. She would really want to be in a relationship with me, you know? And I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “How? You don’t know me.”

  “I’ve seen you at La Salle’s.” Weak reasoning.

  “Big deal. Lots of guys come into La Salle’s. Lots of guys you play football and hang out with go there all the time. I’ve hooked up with a few of them.” She crosses her arms in front of her, plumping up her boobs so I catch a glimpse of creamy skin ready to spill out over her low cut top. I don’t usually slobber over girls, but there’s something about this one that makes me want to see her naked. “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

  She’s being defiant and I kind of like it. What the hell is wrong with me? “I don’t want to have sex with you. That’s not why I hired you.”

  “Hired me.” She snorts, like she doesn’t care what she sounds or looks like when she does it, and I can’t help but admire that. “You make it sound like a proper job when really I’m your paid girlfriend-slash-whore. Where did you get that sort of money anyway?”

  “It’s mine, don’t worry.” I have money saved. My dad’s in finance and has made a lot of money throughout his career. He’s generous with it, especially now that I’m his only child. “And don’t call yourself a whore. You’re not.” I don’t want her to feel like one. Even though whatever she’s done with other guys might qualify her as a whore, sex is the farthest thing on my mind when it comes to her.

  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.<
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  ~* 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.

  She’s a contradiction and I want to figure her out.

  “Listen. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling this is going to be difficult for you. Am I right?” She settles her hand over mine on the steering wheel, the tips of her tiny fingers smoothing along my knuckles. I flinch at her touch but she doesn’t move. I’m shocked that she’s actually reaching out and trying to reassure me.

  Nodding, I swallow hard, try to muster up a few words, but nothing comes out.

  “I have a fucked up family too.” Her quiet voice reaches inside of me and instantly calms my nerves. Her easy acceptance is unexpected.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” I’m trying to joke, but most of the time I believe I’m alone with the madness. No one’s family is as fucked up as mine.

  “I don’t think so. Shit, I don’t know.” She smiles and it eases over my heart as I stare at her. “Just…remember to breathe, okay? I know you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong with you, or why you hate your family so much, but I get it. I totally get it and if you need to get away from them, even for five minutes, I’ll help you. We should have a code word or something.”

  I frown. “A code word?”

  “Yeah.” She nods and her eyes light up. Like she’s really getting into this. “For example, your dad is being an asshole, asking you what you want to do with your life, and you can’t take it any longer. Just say, marshmallow and I’ll interrupt him and pull you out of there.”

  A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Marshmallow?”

  “Totally random, right? It makes no sense. That’s what makes it better.” Her smile grows and so does mine.

  “What if you’re not around?” I have a feeling I’ll never let her out of my sight, but I know that’s impossible.

  “Text me marshmallow. Wherever I’m at, I’ll come running.”

  “You’d really do that for me?”

  Her eyes meet mine, and they’re glowing, they’re so bright. And pretty. Fuck, she’s really pretty. Why didn’t I realize this before? I’m attracted to her and I’m attracted to no one. “I’m totally willing to do the job you paid me for.”

  The warm fuzzies are doused with a bucket of icy cold water at her words. A brutal reminder that what we’re doing, this fake relationship we’re taking part in is nothing but a job for her. “You’re right.”

  Stupid me. I was hoping she’d rescue me because she wanted to.

  Fable

  This house is as big as a museum and just as cold too. It’s beautiful, quiet and immaculate, with a hushed quality to it that truthfully scares me to death. The door clicks shut behind us with a finality that sends a chill down my spine and I follow Drew down a wide hall covered with various family photos I plan on studying later. I hear voices coming from the room at the end of the short hall and then we’re there. In a giant living room with an entire wall of windows that overlooks the ocean. I can see the white-capped waves from beyond the glass, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

  Drew doesn’t even notice it. He’s too focused on the two people sitting on the couch, the both of them drawing their long, thin bodies from the plush dark brown velvet and approaching us with quick steps.

  Nerves eat at my stomach and all of a sudden my hand is clasped in Drew’s, our fingers interlocking. The show of affection startles me for a moment, but then I remember.

  I’m his girlfriend. I’m playing a role and so is he and we’re doing it for these very people who are now standing in front of us with expectant looks on their faces.

  “Andrew. It’s so good to see you. You look positively delicious.” The stepmother says this and I find the compliment odd. Who calls their stepson delicious?

  Drew doesn’t like it either, I can tell. He lets go of my hand and slips his arm around my shoulders, hauling me in close to him. I collide against a warm, solid body and tingles wash over me. He’s as hard as a rock and I have no choice but to slip my arm around his waist and cling to him for dear life. Not that I’m protesting.

  This is all a diversion to avoid his stepmom’s hug. She has her arms out and everything but she drops them to her side, the pouting disappointment on her beautiful face clear. And when I say beautiful, I mean stunningly gorgeous. Her near-black hair is long and straight, hangs almost to her waist. Her cheekbones are sharp, her skin a warm olive color and her eyes espresso dark. She towers over me and with her slender build I can’t help but wonder if she was once a model.

  “Is this your little Fable?” Her condescending voice sets me on edge and I stiffen my spine. Drew spreads his hand wide across the small of my back, his fingers pressing into me, and his touch is reassuring.

  “Yes, I’m Fable. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out and she shakes it with a disdain that’s palpable, dropping my hand quick as if it’s covered in shit.

  What’s this bitch’s problem?

  “Fable, this is Adele,” Drew introduces us grimly. “Adele, this is my girlfriend.”<
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  He puts extra emphasis on the word girlfriend, and a flicker of disgust shines in Adele’s eyes. As soon as it’s there, it’s gone.

  “Drew.” The man standing at Adele’s side is like an older version of my so-called boyfriend and I’m impressed. Drew is going to be killer handsome when he’s still in his forties or fifties if he ends up looking like his dad.

  Something that’s close to affection crosses Drew’s face and he lets go of me to briefly hug his father. But just as quick as he lets me go, he has me again, his strong arm wrapped around my waist and his fingers resting at my hip. It’s a very possessive grip, one that I can’t help but find all sorts of hot, and I need to remind myself that this is fake.

  Drew doesn’t want a girlfriend. He doesn’t seem to like girls. Makes me wonder if he plays for the other team.

  I shoot a glance in his direction, drink in all that dark hair and those intense blue eyes fringed with thick eyelashes. Such a shame if it’s true. What a loss for us girls.

  “Dad, this is Fable. My girlfriend,” Drew says again and this time my hand is shook warmly, though the assessing gaze his father settles upon me makes me slightly uncomfortable. I’m being judged and I know it. I’m used to that sort of thing when I’m at work because hey, guys check me out. It comes with the barmaid job.

  But this older man is contemplating me in a way that’s discomforting. It makes me want to squirm and get the hell out of here.

  “How was your trip?” Drew’s dad asks once he finally tears his eyes away from me. I almost sag with relief.

  “Easy drive.” Drew pauses for a moment. “I thought you two were going to be out tonight.”

  “Adele decided she wasn’t feeling up to another country club get together,” his dad explains.

  “They have them all the time. In fact, there will be another one later this week, and we want you both to come with us.” She waves an elegant hand and flashes a smile, her teeth straight and white and so disgustingly perfect I want to punch them in and watch them fall out of her mouth. For whatever reason, she brings out a violent streak in me. “I wanted to be here to greet you.”