by Lulu Pratt
“Bro, that’s fucking stupid,” Miles said. “I know you, and you are like the king of sealing the deal.”
“Apparently not this time,” I groaned. “It’s kind of frustrating. I mean, she’s my wife, I thought that would play a hand in all of this, but no, there’s no wife as in blow jobs, or vacuuming in the nude. Nothing.”
“Yeah, bro, I don’t think that shit’s real,” Miles laughed. “I don’t think women actually do that anyway. It’s just a ploy to make us okay with marriage. I’m pretty sure you not getting any, is accurately depicting the plight of the married man.”
“Yeah, well, it’ll be a long six months of marriage if she isn’t going to put out. Just saying. She is hotter than hell though, I gotta give her that, but she needs to loosen up a bit and learn to have a good time.”
I turned around and froze, staring at Mira standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, anger sparking in her eyes. I stared at her for a moment, unsure of what even to do. This surely wasn’t a conversation I meant for her to hear. Then I realized, the camera was on me too, which made me feel like an even bigger douchebag.
“Hello?” Miles said.
“Yeah, gotta call you back,” I replied, still staring at Mira as I quickly hung up the phone.
I felt terrible. She was a really sweet person and I didn’t actually feel angry or bitter to her for not sleeping with me. I was just calling Miles to let off some steam, and I let my testosterone get the best of me.
“Mira, I — didn’t know you were listening,” I blurted out, not sure what to say.
She sighed and just shook her head, walking over to the table and grabbing her purse and keys. I shoved my hands in my pockets and closed my eyes, not liking being caught in a situation like that. I had never been the asshole ‘locker room talk’ kind of guy, but I needed to release some tension and unfortunately, she was right there to hear it. I was pretty sure all hopes of getting anything more than snide remarks from her had been taken off the table.
“I’m going to take my mom to dialysis,” she said, with irritation in her voice.
“I thought the company had set it up for her to get there and home while you were away,” I replied.
“They did,” she said. “Three times a week. But I insisted on taking her at least once a week. She is sick, and I am not abandoning her for six months, especially when I’m only like twenty minutes away from her. She needs to be with family, not some stranger.”
“Right,” I said, feeling sheepish. “Well, tell Carolyn I said hello.”
Mira turned and stared at me for a minute, looking like she was going to let me have it right then and there. She took a deep breath and pulled her keys from her purse, shaking her head again. It hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t a look of irritation or sadness, it was pure disappointment, and I didn’t like how that felt in the least.
“Whatever,” she grumbled. “I’ll be back later, and we can figure out what to do for dinner.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
I stood there listening to her walk down the hall and slam the door on her way out. I was such an asshole sometimes, and right then I felt terrible. She was a nice girl, and because she was trying to be respectful, I made fun of her and did it on national TV. I knew there was no way that Evelyn was going to leave that part out of the show, it was just too juicy. The only good part of it was the fact that the cameras went with her to pick up her mom and left me alone to feel like a douche all by myself.
I wandered down the hall and up the stairs, figuring since I didn’t have a camera in my face I could grab that nap, and shake off the rest of the hangover that was not helping my day. When I walked into the bedroom, I could smell Mira’s perfume and it made my chest tingle, a feeling I wasn’t used to at all. The fact was, I was an asshole, and I needed to make things right. I enjoyed being around Mira, even if she was constantly talking my ear off. She was interesting and sweet, and I was lucky that she was the girl I was going to spend six months with.
I laid down on the bed and pulled my arms up underneath my head, staring at the ceiling. Making a promise to myself to stop being an ass to her, I was reminded again that she didn’t deserve it. Closing my eyes, I eventually drifted off into a nap. When I opened my eyes again it was dark outside, and I wondered how long I had been asleep. I pulled myself to the edge of the bed and yawned, stretching my arms in the air and standing up.
Heading downstairs, I followed the sound of the TV and found Mira in the living room, eating Chinese food and watching a movie. She reached down and hit pause on the remote, looking back at me. She didn’t look angry anymore, but she didn’t look happy to see me either.
“There’s Chinese food in the fridge,” she said. “Help yourself.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up when you got home?” I asked.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that was on my list of wifely duties as well,” she smirked, turning back to the TV.
I shook my head and blew out a long breath as I headed to the kitchen where I grabbed a plate of food, then joined her in the living room. She didn’t really say much, and she had gone out of her way to let me sleep. I knew it was to avoid me, rather than let me rest. I deserved it though. I had been an asshole, and really deserved worse than that. All I could hope was that tomorrow would be at least a little better.
CHAPTER 10
Mira
Sunday was usually my day to sleep in, at least it was at home, but in this new house, this new life, I never knew what to expect. Luckily for me, the only thing that woke me up that morning was the beautiful sunshine coming through the window, the sound of the birds chirping and the delicious smell of bacon wafting up from downstairs. Now, I wasn’t normally one to chase down food, but it was bacon, and come on, who could resist that? I pulled my wild hair back into a ponytail and made sure I looked at least halfway decent since there were probably cameras downstairs. I left the guest room, where I’d been sleeping for the last couple nights, and walked downstairs.
What I expected to see was a catered breakfast, something the company sent over to make it look like we were normal people, but that wasn’t even close to what I found when I walked into the kitchen. Standing at the stove with a spatula in one hand was Ryan, covered in flour and wearing a ‘Kiss the Chef’ apron. I lifted an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe, waiting for him to notice I was there. I couldn’t help but smirk, listening to him whistle as he attempted to flip what looked to be pancakes in the pan. When he had finally got one to actually flip, he put his hands up in the air and made a cheering noise. I covered my mouth, but it was too late, he had already heard me giggle.
“Well, hello,” he chuckled with embarrassment. “And just how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see you finally conquer the world cup of pancakes,” I laughed, walking over to the breakfast bar and sitting down. “What’s all this?”
“Breakfast, duh,” he said with a wink. “I thought it would be nice to eat together.”
“Oh,” I said, not letting him draw me in.
“Come on,” he smiled, picking up a plate of bacon and one of pancakes. “Let’s eat on the patio.”
I grabbed the orange juice and a couple of glasses and followed him out to the patio. We sat down, and he served me first before sitting down across from me. I stayed quiet, knowing there was more to the breakfast then just a desire to cook pancakes. Finally, after about five minutes of silence, he passed the butter and sighed.
“So, I want to apologize for the conversation you overheard,” he said. “I thought about it all night and though my first instinct was to make excuses, I decided that was the wrong thing. I shouldn’t have said those things about you, it wasn’t right. And on top of that, it’s not even how I actually feel about you.”
“And how do you feel?”
“I like you, I respect you,” he smiled. “And I enjoy having fun with you. Anything that comes out of that should happen or not happen organica
lly. I promise not to be an asshole anymore.”
“That’s a big promise,” I replied.
“I know, but can you forgive me, at least for the phone call?” he asked. “I know I’ll probably be asking for forgiveness a lot over the next six months, but I’m a guy after all, and that means I’m a little clueless on what to say and not to say around my wife. Especially since this is the first time I’ve had a wife, or any significant relationship for that matter.”
I thought it was sweet, the fact that he had put so much thought into his fuck up. Sure, the conversation pissed me off, but I was stuck with him for the time being, and I wasn’t going to hold a grudge forever. I was going to be careful, I knew how much he wanted in my pants, but I didn’t want him to know that the feeling was mutual. I was also nervous and not wanting to get hurt by a stranger. Plus, I wasn’t going to completely freeze him out, either. It would just make the whole situation that much more uncomfortable.
“Yes, I forgive you this time,” I smiled. “And I have to say, for pancakes that you murdered, they actually taste pretty good.”
He flashed me a smile and immediately my heart dropped into my stomach and my breathing started to speed up. I looked down at the plate, visions of his hot naked body flashing through my mind. I could almost hear his hot breath, feel his huge hands on my body, and smell the warm scent of his cologne, just like in my dream. I shuffled around in my seat, clearing my throat, and crossing my legs. I could feel the warmth in my crotch and the tingle in the pit of my stomach, and knew I still wanted him.
I glanced up and watched as he slowly licked the syrup from his fork. My mouth dropped open, but I caught myself before he could notice, shutting it and looking back down at my plate. Never in my life had I been turned on by someone eating pancakes, but my mind couldn’t help but roll through the list of things I wanted him to do with that tongue. I picked up my napkin and fanned my face.
“It’s hot out here,” I said, not looking up at him.
“It’s just my phenomenal cooking skills,” he smiled. “And this super sexy apron that I found.”
I laughed nervously and loud, almost too loud. He scrunched his eyebrows together and chuckled, watching my strange reaction. I had to talk myself down off a damn ledge of ecstasy, acting like a complete crazy person over his body. But those muscles though, and that smile, and the way his tongue wrapped around that fork. I was seriously losing control of myself and it wasn’t pretty, I could tell. I took in a deep breath and stopped laughing, grabbing my napkin again but this time wiping my mouth. I had to shake the thoughts out of my head, they were no good to me, not in the least. I was supposed to be focused and staying the course, not drooling into my bacon over this guy.
“So how do you feel about today’s task?” he asked.
“What?” I replied. “Going grocery shopping? I mean, it’s a normal everyday thing, so I think we should be able survive it without any knock-down drag-outs in the store.”
“I would tend to agree with you,” he laughed. “It’s weird to me that us grocery shopping will be entertainment for people in the coming weeks. I never thought I was interesting enough to actually have people care about what kind of beans I bought from the store.”
“I guess they want the authenticity of the relationship captured,” I said. “You know, shopping, dishes, laundry. All the super simple, mundane things that couples have to go through. Oh, and by the way, I’m pretty sure they’ll be tuning in for me, not for your bean choice. I smile once in a while, at least.”
“Hey, I smile,” he laughed. “Just not at beans and a gallon of milk.”
“You never know,” I laughed. “We may get into some great debacle at the grocery store.”
“A meltdown in the ice cream aisle,” he said, gathering our plates.
“That would be a shame,” I laughed. “I don’t know how you feel about it, but I absolutely abhor grocery shopping. Back home, I would literally wait until we were down to pop tarts and spaghetti sauce before I’d finally break down and go to the store. I don’t like the crowds, there are way too many choices for each item, and since I have to cook a certain way for my mom, the junk food aisle was out of the question. Of course, then there was the loading and unloading, something I never seemed to have the strength for when it came time to do it.”
“Oh, trust me, I know how you feel,” he said, wiping off his hands and hanging up his apron. “I can’t freaking stand grocery shopping. After I got a blender for Christmas I got excited to go shopping for a time, but a hundred smoothies later the thrill was gone.”
“Well,” I replied, standing up and taking his arm. “Let’s get this over with.”
He nodded, and we headed for the door, grabbing the keys as we left. The cameraman followed behind with a sigh of his own. I was pretty sure Harrison was hating life having to film things like grocery shopping and terrible cooking, but it was what it was. When we got to the grocery store we waited for the team to assemble then headed inside, trying to avoid as much attention as possible — a difficult feat with multiple cameras trying to catch our every move.
“So, how do you feel about Brussels sprouts?” I asked.
“Ew,” he said, making a face.
“Okay, how about carrots and broccoli?” I replied.
He gave me a face that told me he was not the kind of guy who ate a bunch of vegetables. I got a little irritated, loving to eat healthy myself, but tried to hold it back, buying the stuff anyway and figuring I would force him to try it later. When we made it to the frozen food section, though, it was another battle to the death.
“Hot Pockets are seriously their own food group,” he argued.
“No!” I said rolling my eyes. “If it were up to you we would spend the next six months living off Bagel Bites, beer and nacho cheese from a can. Don’t you think you’re a little old to have the diet of a kid in a dorm room?”
“No,” he said, furrowing his brow. “It’s easy and cheap. I’m sorry if I don’t choose to create masterpieces in my kitchen just for me.”
“It’s not just you anymore though, is it?” I asked.
Frustrated, I stomped off, not wanting to blow up on him over food. But there was no way my diet was going to consist of Hot Pockets and macaroni and cheese for the next six months. I had to be able to cook, eat healthy food and actually act like we lived together, instead of acting like college roommates. Maybe I didn’t understand because I lived with my mother who was all about family dinner, but I couldn’t imagine coming home to frozen meals at night in a real marriage, either. That sounded like torture.
When we got back to the house we carried the groceries in together, our moods lightened by the drive back. He put away the frozen food while I put away the pantry items. When all the bags were emptied we smiled at each other awkwardly, not yet comfortable in the way of life of a couple.
“Why don’t we watch a movie?” he smiled. “You go choose one, while I make some popcorn.”
“All right,” I smiled.
I wandered into the living room and looked through the movies on the shelf. It seemed like they had just about every movie ever made right there on the shelf waiting for me. Finally, after hearing the popcorn stop popping, I pulled a movie off the shelf and walked over to the TV.
“Hey, if you’re having trouble picking, here’s a little tidbit about me. I’m a complete nerd when it comes to Lord of the Rings,” he chuckled, putting the popcorn and some sodas down on the table.
Looking down at the movie in my hands, I turned around, my cheeks flushing.
“You mean this one?” I asked, as I held up the Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.
He smiled broadly, and I smiled back at him, sharing a positive moment for the first time all day. We had picked the same movie, and that was definitely a good sign. He was so handsome, and I had to force myself to turn back around and get the movie started. When I sat down we scooted slightly away from each other, my cheeks blushing red again as we both
reached for the popcorn at the same time. The sexual tension was palpable, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
CHAPTER 11
Ryan
It was Wednesday, and we had officially been married for two solid weeks. In some ways it felt like two days, but in others — especially as we had been getting along for more than a week — it felt like I had known her for years. We might have actually started to find our rhythm in this weird situation we were in, and I had found myself looking forward to whatever challenges Evelyn had up her sleeve. It was an excuse to get closer to Mira, to figure out what made her tick, and it was no longer just because I wanted to get in her pants.
Tonight, we were tasked to cook a romantic meal together for dinner. It made me a little nervous since our grocery shopping hadn’t gone that well, but I loved the fact that she knew how to cook, and she discovered I wasn’t a terrible home chef either, she felt the same way. It was something we were able to bond over. There was a part of me feeling panicked that bonding was important to me, but at the same time, it came so easy between us. We had found things in common in the oddest places, and that made it exciting to continue to get to know each other even more.
“All right, chef Ryan,” Mira said, turning around in an apron and chef’s hat. “Are you up for tonight’s challenge?”
I tilted my own hat forward and smiled big. “I was born for this challenge.”
“Then let’s get this party started,” she giggled, tossing me a tomato.
I immediately went to work creating a delicious homemade sauce for the hand-rolled ravioli that Mira was making the stuffing for. We both had our strengths and our weaknesses in the kitchen, but together we were almost flawless. Where I was weak, she was strong, and vice versa. It was a perfect partnership for the task. Before long the kitchen was filled with delicious smells and my stomach was starting to rumble. She walked over and fed me a piece of bruschetta, smiling at first and then blushing as her finger touched my lips.