by Sarah Adams
When I hear Henry ask Jessie if she knows the sex of her baby yet, I find myself leaning in a little closer. I’ve never heard her mention a pronoun when referring to the baby—in fact, she never mentions the baby much at all. The whole thing feels very mysterious, but I’ve been too much of a coward to ask her about it.
“I don’t. I’m going to let it be a surprise.”
Henry awwws and says it’s the last true surprise you can have in life, and I doubt he even picks up on the tension in Jessie’s shoulders. I do, though. I’ve started picking up on Jessie’s little cues, and I can spot them from across the room now. I also know she has five different smiles. 1) Polite. 2) Go jump off a bridge. 3) Genuine. 4) Sultry. 5) Uncomfortable.
The one she gave Henry was definitely number five, and I want to know why. I want to know everything about her.
Conversation breaks up when servers begin to bring plates of food to the table. I notice something in Jessie’s demeanor change. The spark that was present earlier in the night has dissipated. Maybe she’s tired? Nauseous? I don’t know, and it’s killing me. Jessie is only my fake girlfriend tonight, but I still feel responsible for her. I want to take care of her.
I use the opportunity to lean a little closer to Jessie. My thigh brushes against hers, and she peeks up at me. “Everything okay?” I ask quietly.
“Mmhmm,” she says, with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
She picks up her water, her hand trembling slightly, and she takes a deep swallow. Something is definitely off. And then like a switch was flipped, Jessie’s eyes pop up and she makes me add a new smile to my list: wicked. I watch curiously as she digs somewhat mindlessly in her clutch, looks at me over her shoulder, raises a taunting brow, and drops her eyes to my mouth. Her soft pink lips dare me to lean forward and take them.
My pulse quickens, and I’m so distracted by her lips and whatever it is she’s silently trying to tell me that I barely notice something tumble out of her purse. “Oops. Can you grab that for me, Andrew?” Something in my mind tries to alert me that she used my full name—the one we only use for each other during battle—but the more powerful part of my brain is too busy fantasizing about Jessie to pay attention to it.
Is she giving me some serious bedroom eyes or what? She looks like she wants me right now. It’s the same look she was giving me in the bathroom, but a more intense version. I can’t take my eyes off of her. I’m hypnotized, and she looks like a bronzed goddess in her black velvet dress, green eyes blazing, soft skin begging for me to glide my hands all over it.
Before I even realize it, I’m sliding off my chair a little to grab whatever it is she dropped, eyes never leaving her. My eyes should never, ever leave her again. If they do, it will break the spell, and I’m ready to admit this is not a spell I want to break.
I aimlessly feel along the ground for the item, and I have to stretch so far, my knee practically touches the ground, but I finally grab hold of the little box and hold it up for Jessie to take. It’s then that she bites down on her bottom smiling lip and gasps so loudly I nearly jolt. Her hand flies to her chest and pushes against her cleavage like a dramatic heroine in an old black and white film. The word “YES” tumbles loudly from her lips.
I blink, spell broken, and realize the trap instantly. I don’t need to look down to see what’s in my hand, but I do anyway. Yep. It’s a ring box.
“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you! I thought you’d never ask!” She’s bubbling over with all the excitement of a woman deep in the throes of love.
I’m shocked—and then mortified as the entire ballroom suddenly erupts in applause.
“Show us the ring!” Henry calls above the clapping that’s ringing in my ears like a fire alarm.
I’m still resting on my knee, box poised in front of me, stunned into stone-cold silence. Jessie reacts for me, leaning forward slightly to open the box and reveal a tiny (fake, I’m sure) diamond ring. It’s so small it should come with a magnifying glass. Great. A brilliant addition to the prank, Jessica. Well done. I’ll be a laughingstock.
A fresh round of gasps is released around the table, and I finally look up into Jessie’s eyes. Hers are locked on mine, and she looks as if she’s trying not to die of laughter. I consider telling her to go right ahead, and I’ll get to work on her grave.
“You are a dead woman,” I mumble through my fake smile.
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip again and slips the ring from the box right onto her finger. She throws the icing on the cake when she pronounces, “You outdid yourself, Drew! You remembered I love grand gestures. You never forget anything, do you?” Her eyes slide from the pathetic excuse for a ring down to me, and I see nothing but bitter revenge boiling in her irises. It’s then I realize she’s been planning this since the beginning. She bends over slightly to whisper in my ear, “What’s worse, Dr. Stuck-up? Being stood up? Forgotten? Or getting tangled in a lie in front of five hundred colleagues with an itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny ring?”
Anger, mortification, and betrayal all war and sizzle beneath my skin. I thought…I thought we were friends now. Apparently I was wrong.
“Bless him, he’s blushing!” someone at the table whispers, and I want to die. No one will forget this, and I’ll either have to keep up a fake engagement for the rest of my life, tell the truth and humiliate myself, or tell everyone I broke things off with the mother of what they believe is my child and look like a complete jerk. Either way, I’m not coming out of this in a favorable light.
I manage to peel myself off the ground and retake my seat, suddenly feeling the need to loosen the tie around my neck. The room is swirling and everywhere I look, smiles are beaming at me and offering congratulations.
“Drew, give her a kiss—don’t leave the poor girl hanging,” says Richard from somewhere within the hazy rush of anxiety I’m feeling.
I slowly turn to Jessie and can see her chest and shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. This only ignites my fury more. I’m angry—no, I’m pissed at Jessie, but I’m also not so far gone that I’m going to waste this moment.
She angles her self-satisfied smirk toward me and presents her cheek, still enjoying her moment of control.
If she’s going to ruin me tonight, I’m going to ruin kissing for her from now on. I’ll make sure that in comparison, any first kiss after this one tastes as dry as burnt toast.
I curve my hand firmly around the back of Jessie’s neck and lean forward. She gasps at the pressure of my fingers against her skin, and everything around us melts away. My eyes drink up the features of her face, her pink mouth, the curve of her long dark lashes, her delicate collarbones extending out under taut, golden skin. I can’t wait any longer. I need her kiss like I need air.
My mouth covers hers in a sweet, fragile press that she wasn’t expecting. No doubt my eyes look hungry, and the pressure of my hand prepared her for a firm collision—but I’m not some anxious frat boy cornering her at a party. I’ve got nothing but time and patience as I tilt her face so our lips can meet over and over again in luxurious coaxing presses. My heart pounds, and the rhythm of her mouth’s movement accelerates. She smells like coconut and tastes like heaven, and the sudden gentle grip of Jesse’s hand on my knee spurs me to lightly brush my tongue against her lips, coaxing them to part so we can deepen the kiss. Jessie nearly falls off her chair trying to slide closer to me. I can’t help but smile against her needy search of my mouth, but then sensing my amusement, Jessie pulls her lips away and her eyes flutter open. She looks shocked and startled and drugged. I want to gloat, but instead, I can’t resist dragging my thumb across her lower lip one more time.
We stare at each other, both frowning in disapproval as the room erupts in applause, catcalls, and whistles. Suddenly, I’m angrier than I’ve ever been in my life. Not because of the prank—although I’m going to have a hell of time unraveling it—but because of her obvious hatred behind it. I feel like an idiot for seeing the last few weeks as anything other than what
they were: a setup. She let me think we were becoming friends so when she squashed me in the big reveal, it would make her victory twice as sweet. Just like the bucket of water above my door.
But I don’t know…somehow those thoughts don’t feel right either. There’s more to this, more lurking under the surface, but I don’t see it yet.
Finally, I grin (read: sneer) and take her hand in mine, holding it up in the air like I’m the one who actually won this match.
I’m a mess, and I just want to go home. Drew wasn’t supposed to kiss me. He wasn’t supposed to…
No, I can’t even let myself go there. It was too good, and even though I won this round tonight, I still feel like I lost somehow. Is this how people feel when they go on a game show and pass on the hundred thousand dollars to see what’s in the box instead? DON’T OPEN THE BOX, PEOPLE! There’s nothing in that stupid box but unwanted feelings.
After my supreme prank and Drew’s very un-supreme kiss (just let me have this one), we had to endure an entire dinner as well as a silent auction together, both stewing in our own versions of anger but keeping smiles plastered across our faces. Between Susan and the Greens, I felt as if we were on a celebrity talk show. No one has ever been more interested in a relationship than those three. Drew and I were pulling fake dating stories out of thin air, smiling and chuckling when it was warranted, but all evening I could feel the silent pressure of his hand against my shoulder, reminding me that he hadn’t forgotten, that we have the mother of all fights on the horizon.
My retaliation completely worked, so why does the thought of Drew angry make me want to run out and buy an entire frozen section of ice cream just to make him smile at me again?
Finally, someone comes over a speaker and announces that the dance floor is open. Oh great, now we have to do the electric slide with these bad attitudes? I can’t spend any more time next to Drew and his handsome face, and dark blue eyes, and telepathic anger. Oh, but wait! I drove here! I can save myself!
Discretely, I gather my purse and rise out of my chair, hoping to slip past Drew while he’s talking to Richard without him noticing. But of course, he does notice, because he notices every movement I make, and as soon as I stand, his hand catches mine. The smirk he tosses up at me turns my stomach inside out.
“Not leaving without me, are you, buttercup?”
Now we’re two parents in the middle of an ugly fight but not wanting to upset the kids. “I didn’t want to interrupt you two, honey bear,” I say, turning my smile to Richard and then back to Drew. “You stay and enjoy yourself! I’ll just see you at home, okay?” I flash him my pearly whites. CHEESE! Everything is fine, random onlookers!
The corners of Drew’s eyes crinkle. “I’m not going to let my pregnant fiancée walk to her car all alone after dark. Come on, gumdrop, I’ll walk with you.” Drew is acting so over the top. His sugary sweet demeanor is prickling all over my skin like I rolled in a pile of sandburs.
Drew stands up, and I wish I didn’t find him even more attractive, but after that incredible kiss, I do. He looks stronger somehow. More capable. And knowing how his lips feel…NO! DON’T THINK ABOUT THE KISS.
“Oh, wait you two!” says Henry, drawing our attention back with a little wave of his hand. “Before you go, we wanted to run something by you guys.” He and Richard share a private look that seriously worries me. “We were wondering if you would like to join us next weekend at our house up on Barren River Lake—like a little engagement celebration weekend! It’s such a beautiful place right on the edge of Kentucky and only just over an hour away. Enjoy a little restful weekend before your sweet baby arrives.”
Ugh. They are so nice. Under any other circumstance, I’d be all over a relaxing weekend away with a sexy man like Drew and sweet new friends. But as everything stands, a weekend away with him would only lengthen this nightmare. No thank you. It’s time to move on from Drew.
“That is such a sweet offer, and normally we would love to, but—”
“But nothing. We’d love to go,” Drew interjects with a smile that borders on insanity, and his hand drops to my low low back in a wayyyyy-too-familiar touch. I think this is the moment in his villain story when he first turns bad. Chills chase that thought all over my skin.
I take a step closer to Drew and pat his chest, talking through my smiling teeth like a ventriloquist. “Honey, I think you’ve forgotten—you’re on call this weekend.”
He chuckles, and I feel it in my palm. “Actually, it’s the weekend after that I’m on call. I’m free as a bird this weekend.” He bops the tip of my nose.
I’m going to wring his gorgeous neck. I don’t want to go to their stupid lake house and pretend to be congenial all weekend. What I need to do is get away from Drew forever. Nothing is going as I planned.
“Well then…” I swallow. “Looks like we’re coming to your lake house!”
Maybe I can eat something spicy and send myself into early labor before next weekend…
Faster, Jessie, faster!
I whip my car into the driveway and cut the engine. I took the opportunity to sneak out of the fundraiser while Drew was caught talking with a blabbermouth at the door, but as I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw him exiting the venue. We locked eyes through the window of my car, and he picked up his pace into nearly a full jog toward his Jeep.
Because I love taking the high road, I stuck my tongue out then peeled out of the parking lot. Now I’m home, Drew is only a minute behind me at most, and I’m going to accidentally break my water as I leap out of the car and race my way up the stairs. I’m out of breath and exhausted when I make it into my bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.
I sag against it and drag in as much air as I can, feeling grateful no one is here to witness me fighting for my life after that mild exercise.
BANG, BANG, BANG.
“AH!” I screech and then cover my mouth. How did he get up here so fast? I don’t even hear any panting on the other side of the door. Showoff.
“I know you’re hiding in there. Get out here.”
My, my, someone’s throwing a temper tantrum.
Feeling empowered by the locked door, I lean against it and angle my lips toward the crack. “You know, someone once told me that manners are important, and I think you’re missing a special word there, mister. I’ll give you a hint. It starts with a p and ends with—”
“Jessie,” Drew barks from the other side. The fact that he used my shortened name makes me want to run for the hills. This is serious. “Come out here and face me, woman.”
I’m a tiny little mouse safe inside my mouse hole, and he’s the big mean cat trying to swipe his paw inside. “No thanks. I’m good in here.” My stomach growls. I should have brought some cheese with me into this mouse hole.
“You can’t stay in there forever.”
“Not forever. I just have to wait long enough for one of your patients to go into labor, and then I’ll sneak out. I’m not an idiot.”
“I’ll quit my job.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“My full-time career is now sitting here and waiting you out. Don’t think I won’t.” He growls, and it stirs the pit of my stomach. “I can’t believe you did that to me tonight.”
“Can’t you? We’ve been pranking each other repetitively since I moved in. You should have seen it coming. I don’t understand why you’re so mad.” I do understand, though. It was a cheap shot tonight. It felt wrong from the beginning, and it feels wrong now.
He scoffs mildly. “You don’t see why I’m mad?” His voice is doing that thing where it sounds light and airy, which is honestly scarier than if he were yelling. Not scary because I feel that I’m in any danger around Drew—I know he’s not like that—but scary because it feels like we are on the precipice of something. His emotions are loose and wild, and everyone knows in the heat of the moment is when real truth spills out. It’s when words are said that no one can take back.
“Well, let’s see. To
night, my fake girlfriend tricked me into getting down on my knee and proposing to her at a medical fundraiser with the world’s dinkiest, most insulting ring on the planet in front of five hundred important doctors, scientists, and a few celebrities, all of which came up to offer their sincere congratulations for a union that’s not really going to happen and then poorly contained their horrified shock at the fake diamond ring on your finger that’s literally the size of a punctuation mark.” Okay, yeah, that sounds pretty bad when he lines it all up like that. “But I’ll tell you what makes me the most upset.”
“Do you have to?”
I can practically feel his white-hot anger searing through the door, and I want to hide under my covers. “I’m most upset that this wasn’t like all the other pranks.” His words are sharp needles resting on my heart. “Was it, Jessie?”
I swallow and flick a piece of chipped paint off the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” It sounds like his forehead is resting against the door too. “This one was malicious. It was meant to humiliate me, and”—he sighs, and I imagine him running his hand through his hair—“you’ve been planning this since the day you moved in, haven’t you? Everything was just building up to this prank. You still think I stood you up on purpose and haven’t forgiven me.”
I stay quiet, afraid to say anything. But apparently my silence is telling enough.