Playing Pretend

by Juliana Haygert

  He lunged after me. I squealed and ran from him, as fast as I could with the water on my knees. In no time, his arm circled my waist and he pulled me up. I yelped and laughed, kicking my legs so he would drop me, but he didn’t. Instead, he carried me deeper, until the water was on my waist, then he let me go.

  Unprepared, I dropped and my feet slipped on the bottom. I fell back, but not before catching Mason’s shirt and pulling him with me. I heard his chuckle before the water closed around me. His body crashed on mine and we sank a little more. His hands landed on my waist and he pulled us up. Between laughing and taking long gulps of air, Mason pulled me to him. I brushed my hair away from my face, and then did the same to him. My hands lingered on his neck and his eyes met mine. The laugh died and a fire ignited low in my belly. I loved it when he looked at me this way, with hunger and desire in his eyes.

  He cupped my cheek and leaned down. His lips met mine, slow and sweet at first, then his tongue invaded my mouth and he took my breath away. Wanting to be as close to him as was humanly possible, I wound my legs around his waist, fitting our hips together. His erection brushed against my pelvis and I gasped.

  One of his hands smoothed down my back, temporarily cupped my butt, and then moved to the front. Heat surged through me. However, this wasn’t the time or the place for that. Some heavy kissing? Yeah, okay. But doing that in a public area? Nope.

  I jumped down from him.

  “Hey!” he protested.

  I swam away from him, closer to the shore, and he jumped after me. I giggled and kept on running from him. We played something like tag for a long time, where he ran after me and pretended not to catch me when I kicked water at him, and I ran faster when he threw water at me.

  I would miss being this carefree.

  ***

  Mason

  I put Charlotte’s bags inside the trunk, squeezing it in with the other girls’ bags somehow. They had come for only one week but, looking at the bags, I would have guessed they stayed three months.

  I closed the trunk and walked to Charlotte, who leaned against the driver’s door waiting for me. Her friends were already inside the car, talking and laughing too loudly.

  Charlotte smiled and I held my breath. How could a girl be this beautiful?

  “So, that’s it?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her waist.

  She slipped her hands over my arms. “That’s it.”

  I buried my face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, savoring her intoxicating cherry scent. I would miss this smell. I hated how stupid this was. It had only been a couple of days. I didn’t know her. I didn’t truly like her.

  I grazed my lips from her neck to her mouth, and kissed her. A small, quick kiss. Then, I pulled back and retreated a step. “Have a safe trip.”

  A deep frown appeared over her pretty eyes. “Thanks. Take care.”

  I wanted to stay and watch as she drove way, but that was a ridiculous idea. How many times would I have to tell myself that I didn’t know her? I didn’t truly like her?

  I marched away.

  ***

  Mason

  I turned the last corner and saw a car in my driveway. “Shit.”

  I thought about turning around and staying away until she gave up and left my house, but only God knew when she would leave, persistent as she was, and I needed my bed since I was tired from the previous night.

  A smile crept on my face. Of course I was tired. Charlotte and I must have slept only for two hours, but damn it was worth it. I took a deep breath, wishing her scent would fill my nostrils. Christ. I had to stop thinking about her.

  I shoved thoughts of Charlotte out of my mind and made my way into my house.

  My parents were nowhere to be seen, but Tamara was seated on the worn beige couch in the family room.

  “Hi, Mason,” she said, a small smile on her lips.

  I held the front door open. “Leave.”

  Losing the smile, she stood. “Please, Mason, talk to me for a minute. Let me explain.”

  I laughed. “Explain? As if what I saw needed any explanation.”

  She walked toward me. “Let me apologize, then. Please, I didn’t—”

  “Don’t even go there.” I pointed to the door. “Leave or I’ll make you leave.”

  For a moment, she didn’t move. She just looked at me with puppy eyes, as if that was enough to forgive her. Christ, I didn’t want to have to push her out. I was afraid my rage would get the best of me and I would end up using too much force and hurting her. And, even though I hated her right now, I wasn’t that kind of man.

  She averted her eyes, nodded, and left.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said as I slammed the door close behind her.

  Sorry wasn’t enough.

  I rested my forehead against the cool wood and took a deep breath. Way to ruin my perfect week.

  I heard her car speeding away and I relaxed, but not as much as I wanted. I needed something strong to drink. If it weren’t so early in the day, I would have grabbed a beer from the fridge. Instead, I turned on the coffeemaker and plopped down on a chair at the kitchen table.

  Damn girl ruined my life three weekends ago.

  I had plans to spend the weekend away with Matt, taking him to scout colleges in the region, but we ended up coming back earlier than expected, and when I went to her apartment to surprise her, I found her in bed with another guy. She even tried the famous line, “It isn’t what it seems,” but come on! They were naked and moaning and … ugh, I didn’t want to think about it. To make things worse, I found out she cheated on me all the time, and with guys I knew from college. I had dedicated three years of my life to that lying bitch.

  That was why I was so happy to fall into Charlotte’s arms. It was as if she was sent by heaven to appease my broken heart. To be my rebound girl. It had worked, on some level. However, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even mad at Tamara, I was glad for Charlotte.

  “I see someone must have had quite the night,” my mother said, entering the kitchen.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. Just past nine in the morning. Usually, she was up before seven, but on Sundays, she never woke up before eleven.

  “Hi, Mom.” I stood and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet behind me. “You’re the one who let Tamara in?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you knew I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to see her.”

  “Well, she seemed desperate. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to hear whatever she had to say.” She sat down on a chair, pulling her robe tight around her body, and I gave her a mug filled with steaming coffee.

  Tamara had been like a daughter to my mother, and I thought my mother refused to believe what she had done.

  I sat down again. “It hurts. Please, don’t let her in again.”

  “If that’s what you want.” She sipped from her mug. “I know you’re twenty-three, and you have even been talking about getting your own place for over a year now, but I worry about you, and I worry even more when you spend six nights in a row sleeping away from your own bed.”

  The only reason I hadn’t gotten my own place was because I didn’t have any money. Rent here in this beach town was too steep, and my bartending cash was used to pay for my tuition at the nearest college. Our 1,200-square-foot home, and the fact that Matt and I both didn’t own a car even though we had been working since we were fourteen, was a proof of how much my family struggled to get by.

  “I’m fine. I just needed some time.”

  She reached across the table and patted my hand, a kind smile on her lips. “I know. Still, I’m your mother. I barely saw you this past week. You just came to change your clothes. Sometimes you just came home to pick up more clothes; you didn’t even shower here.”

  I sighed. “It was spring break, Mom. Everything will go back to normal now.”

  She tilted her head, examining me with her knowing eyes. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun, and like this, she looked sixty-fiv
e instead of forty-seven.

  “What is normal?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Go back to my masters. Study. Work.” And hope one of the transfer applications I sent to colleges all over the country two weeks ago, without anyone knowing, came back with positive news.

  My mother wasn’t happy about the prospect of me leaving her house to move to an apartment in town. If I was accepted somewhere else, she would be devastated. Nevertheless, I had to leave. I wanted to leave. It was the only way I could see myself getting over what Tamara did to me.

  “It sounds like you have everything figured out,” my mother said, but her eyes didn’t look as convincing as her voice.

  Tired, I stood. “I think so.” I placed my half-empty mug in the sink, aware of my mother’s gaze on my back. I walked to the door, but stopped before exiting. “I’m gonna try to catch up on sleep.”

  My mother nodded and I left before she could say or ask anything else. Between leaving Charlotte and seeing Tamara, I felt physically and emotionally drained, and I didn’t want to talk anymore.

  I closed my bedroom door and plopped down on my bed, willing my mind blank so I could sleep without dreaming.

  Chapter Four

  Charlotte

  The taxi stopped at the Executive Mansion’s gates. I tipped the driver and quickly got out of the car, dragging my suitcase behind me.

  Since leaving California and Mason, I felt like dragging everything. My suitcase, myself, my life, my lies.

  I had never lied about something this big before, and for some reason, I knew I wouldn’t feel the same about me, about my life ever again. This spring break had been a big thing, and not only because of Mason and the fact that we barely left the bedroom. It had messed with my balance, with my independence.

  As the taxi drove away, I took a deep breath and entered my pin on the keypad. The gates opened and, ignoring the security guards spread through the yard, I walked the circular path to the front steps, uneager about arriving at my own house. My eyes followed the square outline of the white house and I shuddered. The fountain in the middle of the circular path was turned on, of course, the water bubbling sound still unfamiliar. We had been living here for two years and it still didn’t feel like home.

  I grabbed my keys from my purse and unlocked the double green doors. Being Sunday evening, I hoped my mother would be at a business dinner somewhere else. No such luck. My mother was working in her private office.

  On tiptoes, I tried to cross through the doorway without being noticed and get up the stairs to my bedroom.

  “How was the trip?” my mother’s cold voice reached my ears, and I stiffened.

  Suppressing a groan, I dropped my suitcase, whirled, and faced my mother. “Good.”

  Even at home, my mother wore suits, heels, makeup, and jewels. Lots and lots of jewels.

  My mother’s brown eyes pierced me, a disapproving glint in them, as she let go of the papers she was reading and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her desk, her hands clasped tightly.

  “When are you going to stop going on such foolish trips?”

  She asked as if I had been going away for spring breaks for five years. I guess she didn’t really remember this had been my first spring break as a college student.

  I drew in a long breath, gathering courage to speak up. “The idea is to keep going until I graduate.”

  “Your father would never let you go on these trips,” she said, as if she deserved the mother-of-the-year award. Far from that. “He would never let your wear those clothes.” Typical. My mother always turned it all to my late father. “Did you behave? Did you do anything that will embarrass me?”

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five … One more calming breath. “I’m nineteen. An adult.”

  “Then act like one,” my mother snapped. “Until you do, you’re a teenager. My responsibility. And I expect you to behave. I’ll repeat the question. Did you do anything that will mark my reputation?”

  Of course, her reputation. Peyton McClain, as Virginia’s governor and planning to run for the presidency in a few years, had a huge reputation to maintain. And I had to maintain it too.

  I thought about Mason. My heart squeezed, missing him. I wished I was a rebellious daughter and brave enough to tell my mother I slept with some stranger for a whole week and, well, if someone ended up posting it in the tabloids, so be it. But I wasn’t rebellious. Exactly the opposite. I was the perfect daughter. Always had been. The strange part was, it never bothered me before. Yeah, I had to attend too many balls and events, hear about politics, sit through boring dinners, and go out with some friends I didn’t really consider that close, but that was okay. I didn’t feel like I was someone else completely. I was just good at playing pretend.

  Once a week I met with Liana, MaryAnn, and Becca. We went out for skating or drawing or simply holed up in Liana’s house and watched a movie, or talked boys, like any normal girls. No politics, no fancy gowns, and no seven-course meals with silver cutlery and crystals goblets. Just my girls and me. That was all I needed. I never once had thought about breaking away, about openly disagreeing with my mother, of running from this life. Never.

  Until now.

  Through gritted teeth, I answered, “No.”

  “Good.” My mother leaned back, taking the papers into her hands once more.

  Dying to leave and smash something to release my clamped anger, I asked, “Anything else?”

  “Yes.” My mother’s gaze, still cold and resolute, shifted to mine. “In two weeks, I have important commitments in Washington, D.C. Don’t schedule anything for that weekend.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but I knew better. Instead, I lowered my gaze and my voice. “Do I need to come?”

  “Of course you do. The people love to see how happy our family is.” Was she kidding? Happy? Us? A family, just the two of us? “Besides, we need to find you a good young man with a brilliant political future to marry. There will be plenty of candidates in Washington that weekend.”

  Oh, joy! A good young man with a brilliant political future! My mother had planned my entire life for me since before my birth. Besides my weekly meetings with my friends, who my mother didn’t know and wouldn’t approve of, my life was ruled by my mother.

  A lump in my throat, I nodded and whispered, “As you wish.”

  ***

  Charlotte

  Even my major wasn’t of my choosing.

  Not that I didn’t like political studies, but perhaps if I hadn’t been “enthusiastically encouraged” into it, I would actually enjoy it. At least my mother stopped pushing me into politics. Instead, she now made plans for my brilliant future as a famous lawyer or a judge.

  My mother had been acting even more distant since I had gotten back from spring break a month ago, so it was a surprise to see the black Lincoln my mother rode in parked in front of one of the college buildings.

  I had my own car. Why was my mother picking me up?

  Smoothing the sudden surprise, but with a wary furrow shaping my brows, I slid in the backseat with my mother. She looked impeccable, as always, her legs folded and her back straight as if it had being nailed to a wooden board.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m leaving for an important meeting, but need to talk to you about something.”

  Acid churned deep in my stomach. My mother never came to tell me something. When we needed to talk, she waited for me at the Executive Mansion. This couldn’t be good.

  “The son of Senator Williams is here in Richmond, and I promised his father you would go out with him tonight.”

  The acid in my stomach burned, melting my guts. “What?”

  My mother’s eyes fixed on mine, outrage spilling from them, wrapping around me, suffocating me. “Is that a retort?”

  I held my breath. “No.”

  “Good.” She faced the front of the car again, as if the driver was invisible. “His name is Donnie. He’s going to pick you up at seven and take you out for a
nice dinner. Then show him the city. His driver knows Richmond, so he’ll know the places you name.”

  “Okay,” I said, my tone small, just as I felt.

  “Now go.” My mother waved me off. “I’m on a schedule here.”

  I opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk, each of my feet weighted like two lead bars. “Bye.” I closed the door behind me.

  The dark window went down and my mother leaned into it. “Do me a favor and pick something I would pick to wear. None of your short skirts or gigantic heels.” Her disapproving eyes ran the length of my body, examining the jean skirt and the wedges I had on. “Make me proud.”

  Unable to move, my gaze followed the sleek car as it drove away.

  When it rounded the corner, my cell phone rang. I checked the screen before answering. “Hey, Liana.”

  “Are you coming?” my friend asked, her voice tense.

  “I can’t go.”

  “Uh-oh.” Liana tsked. “Your mother again?”

  I snorted. “What else?”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” I sighed. “It’s just … it’s been harder since spring break. I don’t know. Before it was easy to go along and blend in. Sometimes, I even had fun. It was … okay. Now? Now I’m having a really hard time blending in and pretending to care.”

  “Oh, hon. I honestly think you are the strongest girl I ever met. If I was in your position, I wouldn’t have last half a day.”

  And I had been doing this for years. Why, goddammit, did I need to feel bothered about it now? I could have gone another nineteen years oblivious to the outside world, not knowing how much fun normal people had. How nice it could be not to care about paparazzi, rumors, reputations, and careers. But that was only a dream for me.

  I exhaled, trying to eliminate the tight feeling in my chest. Once more, I had to miss our skate date because of my mother. “Say hi to MaryAnn and Becca, please. Have fun.”

  “You have fun with whatever the evil queen wants you to do.”

  I grimaced. I hated the nickname Liana had given my mother. I ended the call and whispered to myself, “Here is hoping.”