by Elena Armas
“There’s no stopping that from happening. Boyfriend.”
Wishing I could know how close Aaron was from delivering the killing goal, I twisted my body upward as much as I could. Behind us, phones were out, recording the whole damn thing.
Oh Lord, please don’t let this end up on TikTok.
One last bounce, and chaos erupted as Aaron’s strides came to a stop.
“Put. Me. Down.” I punctuated my words by attacking his back with my weak fists. Judging by his lack of reaction, I doubted he was even feeling it.
“Hey.” He turned around, giving me a view of my sister, who was still under the goal.
She might have just been scored on, but she was smiling.
Aaron continued, “I knew you were bossy, but I didn’t know you were this violent.”
“You haven’t seen anything,” I gritted through clenched teeth while he remained casually standing there, unaffected by the weight of the woman he had tossed over his shoulder.
His chest shook under my hips and thighs.
Was he laughing?
The nerve of him.
The situation called for extreme measures. So, with all the skill I could gather, I stretched down until my hand reached his backside and pinched his butt.
Yep. I, Lina Martín, had just pinched Aaron Blackford’s butt.
And I regretted it immediately.
One, because it was Aaron’s butt cheek I had pinched. And how could I ever come back from doing something like that when I had to see his face at work—every working day of every week—and he’d soon become my boss?
And two, because it had been so smooth and firm that I wanted to do it a second time, just to be sure that an ass that hard was real. I wanted to double-check if a butt could really have that many muscles.
And that, together with reason one, made me question my sanity.
As that spun in my head, I realized that Aaron had noticed my unfriendly pinch. I knew because he had instantly frozen. My fake boyfriend’s body—which was still underneath my hips, stomach, and legs—had gone very, very still from the moment my fingers came into contact with his ass.
Tempted to pinch him again to check if he was breathing or if I had shocked him as much as I had myself, I waited.
With astonishing care, his hands moved to my waist. Aaron lifted me from his shoulder, positioning my front against his chest, still holding me so my feet wouldn’t touch the grass. Our heads were at the same level, our gazes irremediably meeting.
His face was this unreadable blank mask again, as if I had pinched all emotion out of it.
I realized I preferred playful Aaron to the one who hid whatever he was feeling. But that moved into the background as I recounted the nonexistent space between our bodies from our chests down.
I was feeling a little light-headed, so my arms braced themselves on Aaron’s shoulders. Our eyes never breaking contact. I didn’t think either of us blinked either.
Aaron rearranged my body in his arms, and with the change of position, I could feel the swaying of his chest against mine. I could feel the sweat on his skin under my hands and arms too. But above all, I was enraptured by those blue eyes that gleamed like diamonds under the punishing sunlight. My breath got stuck in my throat, not going anywhere. Just like I was.
Never in a hundred years would I have imagined myself in this position. Being held by a shirtless Aaron and not wanting to run as far and fast away as I could. But shockingly, I wanted to do the exact opposite; I wanted to take my time inspecting every inch of sticky and bare skin I could see. I wanted to stay right where I was, perhaps maybe even let him carry me everywhere for the rest of the day.
And that admission scared me.
No, it terrified me.
Or it should have because in that precise moment, I couldn’t find it in me to care for anything besides the wild beating of my heart, thumping directly against Aaron’s skin.
When Aaron finally spoke, his voice had a breathless texture, “You pinched my ass, Catalina.”
I had. And I was sorry. Sort of.
Which didn’t excuse the shameless, outright joyful grin that broke out on my face. I barely recognized myself in that moment, barely understood the need to smile that big and make him pay me back with one of his own. Perhaps a laugh too.
“I plead the Fifth,” I managed to say through my ridiculously silly smile. Still held in his arms. “Plus, if by any chance, someone might have pinched your butt, you might have totally deserved it.”
“Oh yeah?” The corner of his lips twitched.
Almost there. “Yep. One hundred percent well deserved.”
“Even if I’d saved that hypothetical person from a boisterous fall?” Aaron’s eyes wrinkled with the smile I was looking for, his lips remaining mostly flat. Still.
“Boisterous? I was merely going to brush the floor. Very delicately, mind you.”
“You are a ridiculous, impossible woman, you know that?”
I knew, and I was ready to admit that, but then Aaron went ahead and gave me that grin I had been craving. His lips split, and his mouth gave way to a handsome smile that changed his face completely. One that I had seen only once before and that made my heart go all crazy in my chest. My eyes probably twinkled too.
He was right; I was ridiculous. This whole thing was so very ridiculous.
“Hey, guys.” Daniel’s voice came from somewhere nearby, tearing through the moment and causing the little happy cloud I had been in to vanish. “Food is on the table, and we are all about to start. Come on.”
As I heard what I assumed were Daniel’s footsteps walking away, I knew my grin had extinguished.
Had that moment we had shared been all for Daniel and everybody else’s sake?
Probably. No, most certainly. That was what couples did. Playful touches, wide smiles, heated glances.
And that made me feel … a little dumb. Made his smile worth a little less. And made mine a very foolish one.
I guessed it was a good thing that Aaron’s handsome grin had disappeared too. Although, even with Daniel there, his gaze had never left mine. And it didn’t either when his arms shifted the hold on my waist and slid me down his body. Or so I told myself because as I went down, my eyelids might have fluttered, making it hard for me to see much as I was pressed against each hard plane, bulge, and slab there was in Aaron’s chest.
My legs landed on the ground without much confidence. Dizzy by the overwhelming sensation dancing down my body, I was grateful for Aaron’s hands remaining on my waist.
Once he seemed sure I wouldn’t topple down, he retrieved them. But not without tugging a little strand of hair that had come out of my ponytail first.
My heart proceeded to do the toppling down in that moment.
Even more so when his head dipped slowly. “Not bad for a Greek god, huh?” His voice was not nearly as playful as a few moments ago. Right before Daniel had burst my bubble. But Aaron accompanied that with a wink.
That drew a tiny little smile out of me, and I had to shake my head to hide it.
Who is this man who goes around, throwing winks and smiles at me?
My future boss—that’s who.
And wasn’t that reason enough to start thinking about having a one-on-one with that flutter in my chest? The fact that this whole thing was a charade was reason enough already. But he’d soon be promoted to head of the division—my division—and I had to remember that.
“Come on,” he said when I remained quiet. “I told you I’d put some food in you, and I am a man of my word.”
Yes, he was. And I shouldn’t forget that either.
Aaron had promised he’d play the role of my boyfriend and that he’d do it wonderfully. And so far, he’d done such an excellent job that he was starting to convince even me that he was a different man from the one I had known in New York.
Chapter Eighteen
Stopping myself from crawling under the table was becoming a real hardship. But if Isabel kept up th
e Aaron and Lina questioning for a little longer, I’d have no other choice but to do exactly that. Otherwise, my last resort would be to knock down the bride with one of the metallic trays containing the variety of pinchos we were snacking on. It would be a waste of food, and it was her bachelorette-slash-bachelor party, but it’d be the only way. She was a resilient woman; she’d recover in time for the wedding.
We stood in one of the most frequented bars—sidrerías—of my hometown, surrounded by the characteristically loud chatter of people and the sour smell of spilled sidra—the regional apple cider. These were establishments that one could find in every corner of any city or town in this region of the north of Spain. People gathered around in groups of all sizes and ages. Some stood around tall tables, just like we—bride, groom, best man, Aaron, and I—were doing. Others had been seated to have dinner, and some were leaning on the bar, chatting animatedly with the waiters.
Willing my lungs to take a slow, deep, and calming breath, I tried to order my thoughts, so I could dodge the last one of Isabel’s questions.
“Come on. There has to be more to the story of how you two met.” Isabel’s eyes shone with curiosity, bouncing from me to my very stoic fake boyfriend, who stood close enough to my side to steal a fair chunk of my focus. “You are playing really hard to get, Lina.”
“That’s the whole story, I promise.” Sighing, I averted my eyes to my hands, which were lying on the smooth surface of the table. My fingers were busy playing with my empty glass. “Aaron started working for InTech, and that’s how we met. What else is there that you want to know?”
“I want the details you haven’t told me.”
I could tell my sister was about to start whining in that annoying and persistent way that had never once failed to break people and make them give her whatever it was she wanted. I had been there myself—many times.
She tilted her head. “Hey, if you guys experienced lust at first sight and started hooking up and then dating, it’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of. Plus, it would explain that bed-breaking rumor going around.”
My lips parted, and my eyes widened. “Charo works faster than I thought,” I muttered.
I sensed Aaron shifting by my side, closing the small distance between our arms.
But I didn’t turn to look at him as my sister continued, “I am not Mamá, Lina. You can tell me.” My sister batted her eyelashes, and I heard how Gonzalo cleared his throat. “Or share with the group—fine, whatever.” She rolled her eyes at her fiancé. “Come on. We are listening. Did you guys hook up first? And if so, how many times?”
Daniel, who had been oddly quiet for someone who was supposed to be having a good time, sighed noisily. “I don’t think there’s any need to share that with the group.”
My gaze swiveled in his direction, finding him with a deadpan expression.
“Thanks, Dani,” Isabel gritted out between her teeth. “But I’ll let my sister decide if she wants to share her sexcapades with the table.”
Oh Lord, did she just call it sexcapades?
At the change in Isabel’s tone, Gonzalo wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her against his side. I watched Isabel’s body relax immediately, letting go of what I knew were years of contained animosity toward her fiancé’s brother.
Sighing silently, I felt a pang of guilt slice across my chest. It was unprecedented, and I had no reason to feel responsible for the situation, but at the same time, it was hard not to let some of the weight fall on my own shoulders.
In an ideal world, the best man wouldn’t be my ex. In that same world, I wouldn’t have panicked when learning that he was engaged while I seemed to be stuck in time and alone, and I wouldn’t have felt the need to lie to my family and tangle myself into the web of deception I had woven. Perhaps, in that ideal world, the man by my side would be there because he loved me and not because I had struck a deal with him.
But those scenarios were hypothetical and therefore unreal. Unattainable. And each of them painted a picture that was far from the truth. In the real world, there was a consequence to every decision I made. To every choice that I ever took. A perfect world where life happened neatly and ideally didn’t exist. Life was messy and often hard. It did not wait for anybody to be ready or to expect the bumps on the road. You had to grab on to the wheel and steer your way back to your lane. And that was all I had done. That was what had brought me to where I was. For better or for worse.
It was unfortunate that the one man who Gonzalo shared DNA with was not only my ex, but also the man who had been the other half of the relationship that was the catalyst for me leaving everything I had once called home. But I had made the choice to date him. My university professor. The man who would introduce my sister to the love of her life.
Because life wasn’t ideal. It turned and bent. It spun you out for a minute and swung you right back in the next.
Contrary to what most believed, when I had applied for the program abroad that had taken me to New York, a year after everything had blown up in my face, I hadn’t been escaping Daniel; I had been escaping the situation that my relationship with him had thrust me in. Granted, in the process, he had also broken my heart. And that was what everybody saw. The scolded, heartbroken runaway. But the damage went beyond a simple breakup. After that, I went through the worst year of my life. I almost quit uni and threw away my education. My future. All because people, those I had considered friends at some point, spun disgusting lies about me. And it hadn’t only scarred me; it had also impacted my family.
For one, that sadness that everybody had regarded me with stuck to me across time. And the very few times I had come back home, single, it had thickened until solidifying into something that I carried with me.
Even my parents in a way. I could tell they were scared I’d never bounce back from it. Which was stupid. I was over Daniel. My singlehood had nothing to do with that. I simply … struggled to trust somebody enough to give myself completely. I managed to keep myself one or two feet from anything that had the potential to hurt me. And that always ended one of two ways. I either walked away, or I was the one who was walked away from. But at least, I did come out of it wholly.
As for Isabel, she had gone from loving Daniel for giving her Gonzalo to threatening the best man’s balls. Repeatedly. And while she turned into my fiercest protector and cheerleader, the breakup never shook the foundation of her own relationship. Which was evidence of how much they adored and loved each other. Besides, over the years, she had come to accept that even if Daniel had been at fault for a part, he hadn’t done anything besides accept to break some unspoken rule about dating a former student. Society had done the rest.
Which didn’t give me—or Isabel or Daniel—the right to force Gonzalo to pick a side. Something that Isabel had come to terms with. Eventually. In her own way.
“There were no sexcapades, Isa.” I shook my head lightly, trying to shove all those thoughts and memories away.
“Not even one? Come on. You guys work together. And I saw you during the soccer match. You—”
“It was a very boring and uneventful meeting,” I interrupted her. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Isabel’s mouth opened, and I was left with no choice but to elbow my fake boyfriend.
Maybe Aaron’s confirmation would appease her.
“Correct,” he said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “No sexcapades took place.”
I watched my sister’s lips clip closed.
“Unfortunately,” he added.
My own mouth was the one clamping down then. Or it fell open and to the floor—I didn’t know.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look shocked. This is all part of the deception.
Focusing on my sister, I ignored Aaron’s last comment and smiled—hopefully naturally.
Isabel reached for the bottle of sidra and poured a culín in my glass, filling only the bottom of it. Exactly how tradition stated sidra had to be served. Once she had served
me a culín, Isabel proceeded to do the same with Aaron’s glass. “You are not telling me something.” Her eyes narrowed to thin slits as she pushed our drinks in our direction. Then, she leveled only me with a look. “I can see it in your eyes. Drink.”
I didn’t think she was bluffing. Lying wasn’t something I was particularly good at, and my sister had the sibling ability to see right through me.
My palms started sweating. My sister was onto something. And I needed to start talking, give her anything.
I downed the contents of my glass in one single gulp—exactly how tradition specified too.
“Fine, okay.” I placed my empty glass on the table. “All right, so the day Aaron and I met …” I started, my eyes unconsciously jumping to Aaron’s face and finding him looking at me with a new kind of interest. I returned my gaze to Isabel. “It was a cold and dark November 22—” I stopped myself, feeling the need to explain why I remembered the date so accurately. “I remember because it was the day of my birthday, not because—” I stopped myself again. Then, I shook my head. I had barely started, and I was doing an awful job already. This was why I should never, ever lie. “Anyway, it was November.”
Aaron’s hand brushed my back very softly. The touch unsettled me at first, but then it magically instilled confidence in me. Just how he had done earlier that day. How he managed to do that, I couldn’t know. But when he moved his fingers over the fabric of my thin blouse, right above my shoulder blades, I felt a little less like a fraud.
“But that isn’t important, I guess,” I continued, and I had to clear my voice lightly because it had come out a little shaky. “When I first met Aaron, it was the day he was introduced as a new team leader by our boss.”
Aaron’s touch turned loose and airy, and then it stopped altogether.
Trying to keep my head on the story and away from the dainty trail of goose bumps he’d left on my skin, I continued, “He entered through that door, all cold confidence and determination. Looking larger than life with those long legs and broad shoulders, and I swear everybody in that meeting room fell into silence. I could immediately tell he’d be that kind of man everybody … respected—for lack of a better word—without more than a word or two. Just by the way he looked around, assessing the situation. As if he were looking for possible threats and coming up with a way to eliminate them before they could manifest. And even then, everyone seemed to be charmed by the new guy.”