Virtually Yours: A Virtual Match Anthology

by Kait Nolan

  The flush blossoming across her high cheekbones added to her appeal. Marcus’s gut twisted at the thought of hurting her. When she sat so near, he couldn’t look her in the face without his tongue forgetting how to speak. The texts and emails offered him anonymity, relieving the pressure in his chest caused by her proximity.

  “Marcus.” His name sounded like a gift coming from her peachy lips. “This feels like a lie.”

  His heart dropped into his stomach. “I didn’t know how to approach you.”

  She shook her head. A strand of auburn hair curled around her ear. His fingers itched to touch those shiny locks. Would they slip through his fingers like silk?

  “Introduce yourself while we’re in the elevator. Make small talk.”

  “Before or after I trip over my feet and nearly fall on my face?”

  She would never have paid attention to him. His awkwardness evaporated until an attractive woman caught his eye. Ever since the fiasco that was his junior prom, he hadn’t been able to carry on a conversation with a woman who interested him. Nothing like a crowd of jeering popular kids to make the lanky, shy guy wish for the power of invisibility.

  She shook her head. “Hacking my account? That was underhanded.”

  How could he argue with that? It was the truth.

  “I’m sorry about that. When I saw you wanted a virtual boyfriend, I thought it was the perfect way to get to know each other.”

  She gaped at him. She pressed her lips together. He wanted to taste them. He clenched his jaw and gazed at her chin.

  “How can I trust anything you say or do?”

  Acid surrounded the stone in his gut. Everything had blown up in his face. They liked each other during their electronic conversations. Sometimes, she might even have flirted with him. But she wouldn’t give him a chance now that she knew the real face behind the words.

  A boulder lodged in his throat. “Because I never lied.”

  “You pretended to be someone you’re not.”

  Marcus studied his hands. She was wrong. He had been himself during their conversations. And she liked who he was on the phone. It was different when his fingers could form the words instead of his fumbling mouth.

  “I pretended to be Michael Bond because I wanted to get to know you. Now you know who I really am.” He swallowed the sudden need to vomit. He looked directly into her lovely hazel eyes. “Can we go on a real date?”

  Her lips parted and then pursed. He imagined leaning forward, pulling the clip from her hair and pressing his mouth against hers. But it would never happen. The amber light in her eyes darkened. The inevitable was coming. Rejection.

  She pushed away from the table. Standing, she wasn’t much taller than when she perched on the stool.

  “That’s a bad idea.”

  He stood, reached for her, resting his fingers on her hand, pinning it to the table. He wanted to curl her fingers in his. Sudden sweat made his hand clammy. “Just one date. Please.” Yes, he would beg.

  A flicker of pity in her eyes pushed him back, as if she’d shoved against his chest with her delicate hands.

  “I don’t think so.” She jerked her hand away, grabbed her phone from the table, and tossed the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

  Her hips swayed as she strode across the narrow room, dodging people with graceful ease. The beast that got him in this situation stirred in his chest. Chase her.

  What would be the point? What could he do or say to change her mind? A hollow pit opened where his stomach should be. Indecision froze him in place.

  When she pulled the door open, a gust of outside air buffeted him. Wispy strands of auburn gold tickled along her collar. She never looked back.

  He struck out. Again.

  Chapter Ten

  The weekend offered no respite from the emptiness caused by Michael’s absence. Both Saturday and Sunday Ronnie went to the gym, riding the elliptical trainer and completing the weight-lifting circuit until sweat drenched her.

  Still, she lay awake, wishing she could talk to Michael. Michael who was really Marcus because Michael didn’t exist. But Marcus did. Why wouldn’t she give him a chance? She shut those thoughts down. She didn’t need him. Or any man.

  But that didn’t keep her from wanting him. Or dreaming about him.

  Time stretched into the next week. Ronnie plunged into work, perfecting proposals, wishing for travel. Instead, her calendar showed her in the office for the rest of August. Each time she used the elevator, she scanned the interior. Only the first morning after the coffee shop debacle was he inside.

  He stepped forward to hold the door. She shook her head, backpedaling until her elbow brushed the ficus tree across from the elevator. He started to speak. She held up her hand. His face crumpled and his shoulders drooped, but he sidled against the back wall. The doors closed.

  The lost look on his face haunted her dreams.

  She fingered the turquoise petal of the dyed daisy. The tri-color display had been delivered that fateful afternoon. The thinking of you card read, “I’m sorry.” Even unsigned, she knew it was his apology. She hardened her heart against the wave of indecision pounding it.

  Now it was Thursday. An excited email from her sister-in-law reminded her that she’d promised to meet them for a double date. Rather than responding, she postponed the inevitable. She was going to have make an excuse and cancel.

  Perhaps she could claim Michael was traveling for work, a last minute trip. Even thinking his name twisted a knife in her chest. Just one more physical pain caused by his intrusion in her life.

  She could spill the truth. Tell Tony she had hired a virtual boyfriend, trying to get their mom off her back. He wouldn’t understand why she had bothered to lie to him about it, though. That wasn’t how their relationship worked. He was her secret-keeper.

  Guilt gnawed the back of her mind. Except for one other secret–the identity of the man who had assaulted her.

  And how had keeping that secret helped? The rest of her family idolized a child molester. A firefighter who died heroically maintained his pristine reputation—no matter how false—among his peers and the community. And Ronnie locked her heart away from everyone, despising the masculine touch.

  Until a man touched her heart without ever touching her skin. A man she’d imagined from nothing. Except, there was a real man behind the facade. A man whose attraction to her led him to hack into a company and pose as her boyfriend. What did he gain? Nothing, because she hadn’t given him a chance.

  Had he intended to harm her? No. But he had lied. But wasn’t the entire Virtual Match concept a lie? One she had started and then perpetuated to her mother and siblings? She was as dishonest—more so even—than Michael.

  No, not Michael. Marcus Jordan. A real man had made her laugh, made her heart trip inside her chest. The man behind a thousand relationship-deepening texts cared about her. While she was crushing on a person who didn’t exist, he knew exactly who was at the other end: a woman he found appealing but intimidating. After all, she worked hard to wear the armor of unapproachability.

  Who was really to blame for the misunderstanding? More to the point, were the feelings she experienced during those exchanges with Marcus true? Or were they as make-believe as Michael Bond?

  A blue petal broke off between her thumb and forefinger. Fading now, the bright purple and pink blooms bowed their heads. They wouldn’t last much longer. Nothing ever does.

  When it was time to leave the office, her feet drug. Home had become something of a prison since the texts had ceased. The first night, she picked up her phone dozens of times, finally tossing it on the counter and going to bed an hour earlier than normal. Not that she could sleep.

  After dinner, her phone rang. Her traitorous heart leapt in her chest and her stomach fluttered, making her glad she’d eaten nothing but a salad for dinner.

  “It isn’t him. He doesn’t call.” Major looked up at the sound of her voice.

  She pushed the button and pressed the
phone to her ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Big sister. You sound tired.”

  Tony. Probably going to compare notes on the plan for the weekend. In the next few minutes, she would have to decide how to handle the fact that she didn’t have a date. Had never truly had one.

  They traded small talk about their jobs. He shared his nervous excitement about finally being a father.

  “You’ll be a great dad.” He would. His natural instinct to protect wouldn’t be appreciated by the child, but it would keep their family safe.

  “So we’re meeting up this weekend. Friday night or Saturday?”

  “Saturday is better.” Seriously? What was so great about Saturday?

  “Jen and I are going to do some touristy things. You and Michael want to join us?”

  “I’m hardly a tourist.”

  “But he is.” No, he actually isn’t. “He might like to stroll along Fisherman’s Wharf.”

  They discussed a few things Tony and Jen should see and do while they were in the city for two days. Acid burned above Ronnie’s stomach. The salad wasn’t such a great choice after all.

  “So, you want to meet us down there for lunch? I really want to spend more than an hour with this guy. Plus Jen would love to have a woman to go shopping with.”

  “Me and shopping?” She curled her lips and smacked them, as if tasting something sour.

  Tony laughed. A dart of longing pierced her breast. When had she laughed last? During her final text conversation with Michael/Marcus. He always made her laugh. Would she ever laugh again?

  “I’m beginning to think you don’t want me to meet this guy.” Maybe because he doesn’t exist. “He’s coming to Oakland, right?”

  “Yes.” He actually lives here. He’s been here all along. Her chest ached.

  “Are you embarrassed for me to meet him? I promise not to grill him too much.”

  “That’s not it.” I lied about him. The truth burned her tongue.

  What sort of a loser hired a fake boyfriend and then extolled his virtues to her family? The same kind that fell in love with her imaginary creation. He’s real.

  “I’m not letting this go.” The soldierly stiffness entered his voice. “If you won’t meet us, I’ll come to your place and hold you hostage until he shows up.” You’ll have to get back to base before that will ever happen.

  “How about I text you on Saturday?”

  “How about we settle on a meeting now?” His voice changed to a growl. “Don’t think I don’t know your stall tactics.”

  “You’re all about the tactics, aren’t you Military Man?”

  “And that would be a classic redirect attempt.”

  Ronnie huffed. It was now or never. Would she continue the lie or come clean?

  Sudden realization clobbered her whirling debate. There was a third option.

  “Fine. We’ll meet you for lunch at Fog Harbor Fish House.”

  Her stomach danced four different jigs while she explained where the restaurant was and agreed on a time. The call ended.

  Now she had less than forty-eight hours to figure out how to keep the date—with a date by her side.

  ~*~

  On Friday, Ronnie trolled the lobby of their office building, but Marcus never arrived. Had he come to work earlier?

  In the elevator, she considered the buttons, pushing six before she could second-guess herself. By the time the doors slid open at the sixth floor, Ronnie had talked herself out of a face-to-face meeting. That hadn’t worked out so well last time.

  The day dragged. What if Marcus had quit his job because she had embarrassed him? Because that was a possibility? Did she think he was that crazy about her? Why not just assume he’d committed suicide when she turned him down?

  “Would you mind posing as my boyfriend again? My brother and his wife want to meet you.”

  How inane did that sound? If they weren’t going to have a future together, having him pose as her boyfriend now made zero sense. So why had she told her brother to meet them? It looked like she would show up alone and have to explain her imbecilic plan. Why was that such a big deal?

  Because Tony wouldn’t understand why she had lied to him. And his trust was the most secure thing in her world. She couldn’t lose it.

  By five o’clock, Ronnie was determined to convince Marcus to be her date. She wasn’t sure why he would agree to more posturing, but she was going to try anyway. It couldn’t be any worse than admitting she’d fabricated the last three weeks of her life.

  The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. Ronnie stepped onto the beige floor tiles. Two companies shared the sixth floor. A professional firm of some sort and Quark Technologies. Marcus had to work for Quark.

  The receptionist was sidling from behind the mahogany counter when Ronnie pushed through the frosted door. She looked up and a tired smile creased her youthful face.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I know it’s closing time, but I was hoping Marcus might still be here.”

  “Marcus?”

  Ronnie swallowed the chunk lodged in her windpipe. “Marcus Jordan. IT Development.”

  The girl’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. An appraising head-to-toe once-over made Ronnie feel like she’d entered a meat market rather than an office. What was that about?

  “Marcus works remotely on Fridays.”

  Works remotely? Since when?

  Ronnie digested the words at the same time every nerve ending wilted. Apparently, she wasn’t going to be asking him about this face-to-face after all. She thanked the girl, holding the door for her.

  In her car, Ronnie rested her head back and closed her eyes. Was all this stress really worth it? Tony would get over his hurt. Things would go back to normal.

  Normal’s not an option anymore.

  Her eyes flew open. When did she decide that something more would come from this pretend date with Marcus? The instant I agreed to meet Tony last night.

  Over the past few weeks, Marcus made her feel alive. And she wanted to feel that way again. Maybe it was just an act, but he was the one who pushed for a face-to-face encounter. Didn’t that mean he wanted it to be real?

  “Are you sure?” Her whispered question hissed back from the windshield. Is anyone ever certain about a relationship?

  Ronnie slipped her phone from its pocket inside her bag. The message screen showed MBOND in the fifth slot. She’d need to change the name. How would she explain that to her brother?

  She shrugged. Tapped the screen. Typed a new message. Can we meet?

  Would he even answer?

  ~*~

  Marcus Jordan stared at the computer screen. He’d organized all the emails from Veronica Shay into a single folder. The most recent message—last week—was open. How many times had he reread them?

  For the tenth time, he clicked the reply button. His fingers hovered over the keys of his wireless keyboard. What should he say? Could he say anything that would make her give him a second chance?

  He was still uncertain why she turned him down. Was it because she thought he was a stalker? Or because once she saw him and realized who he was, she had no interest in being seen in public with him?

  What sort of loser couldn’t even succeed as a virtual boyfriend?

  Forget responding to the email. She didn’t want anything to do with him. She wouldn’t even ride in the same elevator. So, he’d made it easy on her, agreeing to work remotely on Fridays, something management had been trying to implement for months.

  A weight pressed against his chest. It had been better before he’d ever got the idiotic notion of hacking her account. Now that he’d talked to her—if sending a thousand texts counted as conversation—he wanted her more than ever.

  But she wasn’t interested.

  He should have followed his sister-in-law’s advice. She told him to wear his contacts and some jeans, walk with confidence. Hard to do when he stumbled over his own feet. Did his looks really matter? Veronica seemed to li
ke him fine before she knew what a moron he was.

  The phone on his desk vibrated. He had turned the sound off while he worked. Not like anyone would call him anyway.

  He deleted the empty email. Time to get over it. Or make a move. So he could get rejected again? The woman refused to ride in the same elevator with him. Did he truly believe she might agree to go on a date?

  What if she missed their conversations as much as he did? He shoved both of his hands through his mussed curls.

  Right. Why would she miss anything about him?

  The phone vibrated again. Marcus closed his email and snatched the gadget off his desk. His jaw dropped.

  VSHAY: Can we meet?

  He stared at the screen. His heart galloped up his throat until he felt it pounding in his temple.

  Was he imagining this? He closed his eyes. They popped open. The message on the screen remained.

  He slid his finger to unlock his phone. What should he say? He should sound casual. Maybe make a joke?

  He tapped his fingers against the top of his desk. Faster and faster. He inhaled deeply. His stomach bucked into his lungs. His thumbs slid into place. The message: who is this?

  He collapsed against the back of his chair, air whooshing from his lungs.

  VSHAY: Veronica. Ronnie. This is Marcus, right?

  MBOND: Do you mean Michael Bond?

  VSHAY: No. I need Marcus Jordan to meet me.

  Strange fluttering in his chest and head gave him pause. He reread the message. No more pretending.

  MBOND: Where?

  VSHAY: The coffee shop?

  MBOND: Not the best for me.

  Not after the last meeting. He’d rather take a knife to the throat than return to the site of that disaster.

  VSHAY: You choose then.

  Marcus stared at the wall in front of him. It looked like he was getting a chance to date the girl of his dreams after all. How about Flora’s on Telegraph?

  He stared at the sweatpants and wrinkled shirt he’d been wearing since last night. Not the impression he wanted to make. And he needed a shower.

  VSHAY: Near the Fox Theater?

  MBOND: Yes. An hour.