Fake it Baby

by Tia Siren

  “I brought vodka,” I said, pulling out the cheap bottle I picked up at the liquor store.

  She scoffed. “Our last night together and you couldn’t even spring for the good stuff?”

  “This was your big idea. You could’ve bought the booze, you know.”

  I got another one of her sexy giggles. “I just wanted to spend one last night hanging out with you. I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” she pouted.

  “I’m sorry. It’s too good an opportunity to pass up,” I said. “You can text and call anytime. Email works too. And I’ll be making the big bucks soon and can buy you a plane ticket to come out and visit me.”

  Seeing her was killing me. She was wearing yoga pants and a tiny shirt that left her belly button exposed. The woman didn’t seem to know how sexy she was. That messy bun on top of her head was torture. I loved her long brown hair, but seeing it piled on top of her head like that was too much for me. I knew she wouldn’t be so relaxed around me if she knew how attracted I was to her.

  “I can’t believe you were actually going to leave without saying good-bye. That’s not cool,” she scolded.

  I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t trying to offend you. I thought it would be easier for both of us.”

  She was shaking her head. “You knew I would be pissed. That was a dumb idea. You can’t just move away without a real good-bye.”

  “I’m here. Let’s eat, drink, and be merry.”

  “Sit. I’ll get the snacks and make a couple screwdrivers. You can splurge tonight. Don’t give me any of that crap about not eating carbs,” she muttered. “It’s seriously a wonder I am even friends with you. A man who watches his weight and eats right can’t be trusted.”

  “You love my body and you know it. But tonight, just for you, I will stuff my face with unhealthy food.”

  “And you’ll damn well like it,” she quipped.

  “Nothing fried,” I said, settling on the couch.

  I heard her mumble something under her breath and smiled. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not all of us can be naturally thin and beautiful, Mia. Some of us have to put in some effort to look this good.”

  She made what sounded like a choking noise, and I started laughing. Mia could eat, like, a five-hundred-pound man and never gain an ounce. She chalked it up to good genes, and I had even told her on more than one occasion that she had won the gene lottery: gorgeous, sexy as hell, and smart to top it off.

  “Here. Drink this and I’ll look even better to you,” she said, shooting me a silly grin.

  I took the tall glass of orange juice from her. After one sip, I realized it was equal parts vodka and juice. I choked as the alcohol hit my tongue, and an involuntary shudder shook my body as the strong drink rolled over me.

  “Wow,” I sputtered. “That’s a stiff one.”

  She was laughing. “Too strong?”

  “If you’re trying to get me drunk, it’s definitely going to work.”

  More of her delicious laughter washed over me. “So, tell me about this job that is taking you away from me.”

  I smiled, feeling excited about the new path I was about to jump on. “I’m basically the coffee guy. It isn’t anything spectacular yet, but I hope to impress the big guys and get on the air. Maybe one day I’ll even have my own show and you’ll get to hear my voice from all the way across the country.”

  “Good. I’m so proud of you, Brad. You deserve this. I know you’re going to be bigger than Ryan Seacrest one day. I’ll get to say I knew you when.”

  I shook my head. “It isn’t going to be like that. You’re still going to know me. We’re going to be seeing each other and talking all the time. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

  “That’s what you say now. You’re going to be in Los Angeles with all the beautiful people. Some hot little blonde is going to catch your eye and you’re going to forget all about me.”

  “That will never happen,” I promised her. “Besides, I’m partial to brunettes.”

  She slapped my arm. “I have some news as well, by the way.”

  “Really? What’s up? You’re not running off with the guy from the coffee shop, are you? I don’t think I could take that kind of heartache on my last night in town,” I teased.

  “Tempting, but no. I’m going to be starting as an intern at that magazine I told you about.”

  “What! How come you didn’t tell me? That’s awesome!”

  She shrugged one of her dainty shoulders. “I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

  “Mia, you’re not stealing my thunder. I’m happy for you. You are going to do great. I hate that we’ll be on opposite sides of the country, but I’m glad you’re getting your shot.”

  I hid my true feelings on the subject. I’d hoped to find success out in LA, then convince her to move out there with me. That would never happen now because I knew Mia was going to make it. She would get her dream job at a top magazine here in New York and never leave. My heart hurt at the thought of not seeing her every day, not getting together on the weekends, not going for hikes together. She was my best buddy, always willing to entertain my wildest ideas. I was going to miss her terribly.

  “Is this it?” she whispered.

  “Is what it?” I asked.

  “This. I mean, how many people do you talk to from high school? None, right? At the end of senior year, we all promised to keep in touch and all that crap. None of us have. I occasionally see a couple people, but I don’t hang out with my old friends from school. Then with college, same story. You are the only one I really talk to still,” she said in a quiet voice. “We’re saying all these nice things about seeing each other on vacations and keeping in touch, but will we?”

  “Yes! I’m not letting you get away from me that easily. We’re older now. Our friendship is based more on who we are and not on what boring class we were stuck in together. Mia, I want you to be my friend forever,” I said.

  That made her smile. She was getting a little melancholy. I was, too. “Give me your glass. I’ll make the next round,” I said, grabbing her glass and heading for the tiny kitchen in her tiny apartment.

  I had to put some space between us. Honestly, I was dying to wrap my arms around her and promise her things I knew I could never follow through with. I wanted to kiss her, just one taste. What could it hurt?

  We finished our second glass, and I could feel the buzz from the strong drinks. “You’re drunk,” I told her, laughing at her flushed cheeks.

  “I am not.”

  “I should go. I need to get home and finish packing.”

  “Don’t go. Not yet. You can sleep on the plane. Stay a little longer.”

  I nodded my head, agreeing to stay. “Okay.”

  She leaned back against the ugly-ass orange sofa I’d always hated. She had picked it up at a thrift store, insisting it was perfect for her apartment. I had not been convinced, but once it was inside, I realized she had been right. It really was perfect. She had an eclectic style that was unique to her. No other person in their right mind—and living in this decade—would have ever thought the sofa was a good idea. That was Mia, quirky and sporting a style all her own. It was one of the many reasons I loved her like crazy.

  “Brad?”

  “What?”

  “How come we never dated or hooked up?”

  I nearly choked to death on my drink. “What?”

  “You and me. Why did you never ask me out?”

  I took a deep breath. “I didn’t think that was what you wanted. You know I think you’re beautiful. No, strike that. You’re hot, way too hot for a guy like me.”

  She laughed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s true. I could never have gotten through these past six years without you. You’re my best friend in the whole world, my partner in crime, my go-to when I want to try a new restaurant or do something crazy. I didn’t want to complicate things and
risk ruining that friendship.”

  “You’re assuming we wouldn’t have stayed together.”

  “We’re both young. Neither of us wanted to settle down. You’re twenty-four and have admitted more than once that you don’t want to settle into a relationship. You’ll find the right guy for you.”

  “Uh, you’re twenty-four, too,” she said.

  I laughed. “I know. Like I said, we’re both young and neither one of us is looking for that whole long-term relationship thing. We would have had a good time, but then when we got bored with the sex and the mushy stuff, we would have broken up.”

  “You wouldn’t have gotten bored with the sex—trust me,” she said in a husky voice.

  I laughed to hide what I was really thinking. There was no way I would have ever let her go. I loved her. I was in love with her and had been for years. I should have told her. I’d missed my chance. What if she was the one for me and I’d fucking blown it because I was a coward?

  “You’re right, but you would’ve gotten tired of me. You know it. We are too good of friends to risk throwing it all away for some hot sex.”

  She released a long sigh. “I suppose. I guess we’ll never know.”

  We both went quiet. With the talk about sex, it was all I could think of. I had undressed her in my mind at least a hundred times, but now she’d all but given me permission to fuck her in my dreams as well. I knew it would be good. Not good, fucking amazing. I thought about her tight little body pressed against mine as I drove into her. I imagined the sound of her heavy breathing and the little moans that would escape her lips.

  Opening my eyes, I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that. Not now at least. When I was home in the privacy of my own bedroom, I could fantasize about her, but not here right in front of her.

  “I really should get going,” I croaked out, my voice hoarse given my current state of arousal.

  Mia leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “Fine. Leave me all alone,” she said, pouting.

  It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I was convinced it was the right thing.

  Chapter Two

  Mia

  I was buzzed. Okay, maybe a little more than buzzed, but I knew what I was doing. Brad thought I was hot. That made me giddy. I’d played it cool, or at least I thought I did. My brain was a little muddled from the vodka. I considered myself to be skilled in the flirting department. Unfortunately, I had never flirted with Brad, and it felt awkward.

  “I think you’re really hot, too,” I blurted out. “I’ve only been a little jealous of all the women falling at your feet.”

  “Now I know you’re drunk.”

  “I’m not that drunk. You know you’re sexy. Girls are always willing to drop their panties for you. Why would I be any different?”

  “Stop it.”

  I giggled. “You know it’s true. Don’t be shy,” I cooed. “I’m a typical hetero girl who isn’t blind. I can see how good looking you are. I’ve just been polite and never actually told you. I didn’t want to inflate your ego any more than it is.”

  “Hey! I don’t have a big ego.”

  I laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re not exactly hurting in the self-confidence department.”

  “Neither are you,” he grumbled. “You know you’re a hot little thing, parading around in your sexy little outfits when we go out together and pretending you don’t understand why so many guys want your number.”

  I giggled. “You never made a move.”

  “You’re my best friend, Mia. Me making a move would have taken us right out of the friend zone and into a place neither one of us was ready for or wanted.”

  “Hey, don’t speak for me. How do you know what I wanted?”

  “Whatever. You’re drunk,” he mumbled into his glass, taking the last drink.

  “Not really, but I agree. Us sleeping together would have been weird. I mean, I’ve seen you almost naked, but seeing you all the way naked could make things a little awkward between us. I don’t know if I could handle seeing your O face,” I teased.

  He nearly spit his drink across the room as my words hit home. “My O face?”

  “Yeah, you know, that moment you climax. Everyone has a different O face. If I saw yours, I don’t know if I could ever look at you the same way. I would always think back to the moment,” I said, teasing him but actually meaning the words.

  He shook his head. “You think of the dumbest shit.”

  “It’s a valid concern,” I protested. “Have you never had sex with a woman and then, say if you see her on the street, the first thing that pops into your mind is that look on her face when you brought her to her climax?”

  He smiled. “Which time?”

  I burst into laughter. “You’re such a guy. You do know women fake it, right?”

  He shook his head. “Not with me they don’t. They don’t have to. I make a woman come over and over.”

  His voice took on a deep, husky tone that felt as if he were pouring warm honey over me. It was his seduction voice. I had heard it before when we double dated, or when we went out to a club and he wanted to take a woman home.

  “Brad!” I shrieked. “Don’t you use that tone on me.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “You’re the one who started talking about orgasms. It was a natural response.”

  I shook my head. “You’re a smooth operator. It’s amazing I’ve been able to stay your friend this long without falling under your charms.”

  “Only because I haven’t ever tried. If I tried, you would never be able to resist my charms, or anything else.”

  I made a sound that was meant to be a scoff but came out sounding as if I were choking.

  “You okay?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

  “Yes. Just trying to digest your words. I think you underestimate my ability to shoot you down.”

  He laughed. “You think?”

  “I think it would so be the other way around. You’d be all mooning around after me. That could get old. So, I agree, our relationship was better left as friends. I can’t have another man begging to take me to bed,” I said with a wink.

  “Now who has the big ego?” he joked.

  “Only calling it like it is. I guess we’ll never know now since you are moving across the country.”

  “If things had been different, you know I would have made a move,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  We went back to sitting in silence. I hated regrets. I regretted not sleeping with him, but that was only one part of me. The more practical side knew I would have ended up regretting having sex with my best friend and tainting our friendship. It sucked either way. I smirked. At least one way would have led to a great deal of pleasure. Brad had a killer body and worked out every day to keep it that way. He was hard and muscular, and that naturally curly blond hair of his always made me want to run my fingers through it. As his friend, I got away with doing that. As his former lover, I couldn’t. It would violate some secret code.

  He reached out and put a hand on my thigh. “I promise I will stay in touch. You better do the same. No matter how busy you are or how jealous your boyfriend gets, shoot me a text or an email from time to time,” he said.

  I let out a long sigh. I felt like a chapter of my life was ending, just like with high school and then college. Another door was closing, and I really didn’t want Brad on the wrong side of that door. I felt as if I were losing him. I knew I was.

  “I will,” I mumbled. “I hate this. I hate that you are walking right out of my life. You and I both know we’ll drift apart,” I said, not able to hide the sadness in my voice.

  “I hate it, too. So, we can’t let ourselves drift apart. We have to put in the effort to stay in touch.”

  I smiled, knowing life would get busy for both of us. “I’m sure we’ll try, but you’re going to be busy, I’m going to be busy, and, you know…” I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t have to say the words. We both knew what I was saying.

&n
bsp; “I tell you what. Let’s make a pact right now. If you and I are both single at the age of thirty-five, we’ll get married and have twenty kids together.” His face lit up with that familiar, loveable, cheesy smile.

  I burst into laughter. “No way is this body popping out twenty kids. Will you settle for one?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll start with one and see how it goes.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. I know you’re joking, but thank you. I’m just feeling sorry for myself because you’re moving away and embarking on a whole new life without me. I’ll be fine.”

  He turned to me and got serious. “I am absolutely not joking. I’m serious. If we are both still single and unattached at thirty-five, let’s do it. We know we get along. Even if sex between us is horrible, we can still have that companionship we’re looking for. Neither of us will ever have to worry about growing old alone.”

  “Unless one of us is married and the other isn’t when we turn thirty-five,” I pointed out. “And by the way, sex would not be horrible,” I mumbled.

  “I’m just saying, if we don’t like each other in a sexual way, we could work out a special arrangement. You could have your side guys and I could have a girl on the side. We would be discreet. Our kids would be loved, and we’d love each other enough to have a happy family,” he said with sincerity.

  I gave him an incredulous look. “Are you being serious? I think you must be smashed.”

  He nodded. “I am. Absolutely. I want to do this. I want to make sure you will marry my ass if we are both lonely, sad sops and in our mid-thirties.”

  “Really?” I asked, still not believing it.

  “Mia, I’m dead serious. Now, come on, let’s get you to bed. I need to get going.”

  He stood up and reached down a hand to help me off the couch. Like so many times before, he led me to my bedroom and pulled down the blankets on my bed. I flopped down on the mattress, flat on my back, and waited. He began the familiar process of untying my tennis shoes. I looked down at him and smiled. He always took such good care of me.

  “Scoot,” he ordered once my shoes were off.