Pretend You're Mine
Page 5
“Only the most popular quotes.”
“Are you calling me basic?”
I shoot her a curious look.
“What?”
“Penny used to say that.”
“Oh.” Her lip corners turn down. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No. I don’t get it. What could possibly be bad about something being basic?”
“It’s dumb Internet culture stuff.”
“You’re saying it.” I fill the domain registration form with Leighton’s info then turn the computer to her.
“You know those girls who come into the shop in their sheepskin boots, toting Pumpkin Spice lattes, asking for kanji tattoos?”
“Yeah.” It describes a certain type of customer.
“They’re basic.”
“And?”
“Nobody wants to be ordinary.”
“It’s underrated.”
“Maybe.” She hits submit on the form then reaches over to the couch to grab her backpack. “How am I already doing this?”
“It’s what you want.”
She finds her credit card in her wallet, uses it to fill out the payment form. “It’s what you want.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re desperate to get rid of me.”
“I offer to teach you to do ink every day.”
“Why?” She looks up from the computer. “Why does it matter so much?”
“I want the best for you.”
“Even if it means me leaving the shop?”
“You can’t work our counter forever.”
“What if I want to?”
“Do you?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Well…”
“I still remember that day Dean brought you in.”
“Pointed to my cleavage and said wouldn’t you pay anything for this.”
“He’s such a fucking pig.”
She laughs. “It worked.”
Yeah, it did. But not because of her tits. “I hired you ’cause I liked you.”
“Dean hired me. You just didn’t veto it. Which is actually a lot. Now that I know you.”
“You must make less here.”
“You sign my W-2s. You know how much I make.”
More than I’d figure. But less than she deserves. She’s the only tolerable person at the shop.
A ray of sunshine on a dark night.
The warm smile that welcomes everyone.
Keeps them coming back for more.
I stare into her blue-green eyes. “How much less?”
“I don’t know. Thirty, forty percent.”
“That’s a huge pay cut.”
“I like it here.”
“That can’t be it.”
“I didn’t like it there.” Her gaze goes back to her laptop. “I was done working at a bar.”
“Dean did your rib tattoo, right?”
“And you did the dragon. And Brendon did the cherry blossom. What’s your point?”
“That was right after you quit Rock Bottom.”
“Ryan, I—”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I wanted to.”
“Can’t be the hours. You groan every time you get in at nine thirty.”
“It’s early.”
“Assholes still leer at your tits.”
“I appreciate the attention.”
I shoot her my best side-eye.
“Not all of us look like—” She looks to her computer. Taps the mouse a few times. “Romance cover models.” She turns the screen to me. Shows off the cover mock-up with me. Only now its title is Ryan and the author is Leighton Black.
“You think I can’t play this game?”
“Maybe.”
I grab my cell. Pull up my favorite graphics program. It’s a lot more streamlined than Photoshop, but it’s enough to prove my point.
She stares, tapping the table with her shiny fingernails, as I whip up a design.
I show off my finished work—a book cover with her as the model. It’s an older picture. One of her staring into the distance, her then pastel pink hair blowing in the wind, her blue-green eyes contemplative.
Same title concept. Leighton with Ryan Maddox as the author.
“Mine looks better.” She motions to her computer. “You’re a better model.”
“Or you’re a better designer.”
She shakes her head. Turns her attention back to her computer. “Domain acquired.”
“We still have to set it up.”
“Later.”
No. Now.
I need to find the source of her resistance and destroy it.
I will—she’s too good not to do this full time.
My phone’s buzz pulls me out of my thoughts.
It’s a notification from Instagram.
@P3nnyForYourThoughts likes your post.
The one of me and Leighton at the beach, close enough to touch.
“Oh. Is that her?” Leighton leans over. Her eyes go wide as she takes in my screen. “I knew she followed you.”
I guess she did.
“How does it feel?”
“Weird.” My throat is tight. The same as it was when Penny called.
But there’s this warmth in my chest.
I want to throw up.
And I want to revel in my victory.
I may be wasting my time and energy obsessing over her wedding.
But she’s wasting hers thinking of me.
She’s keeping tabs on me.
Wondering if I’ve found someone.
If I know anything about Penny, she’s asking herself if Leighton is prettier. Cooler. Smarter.
Kinkier.
She’s asking herself if I fucked Leighton behind her back.
If she somehow missed all the signs.
That’s one thing I learned about cheaters—they project their deceit right back on you.
Start accusing you of the shit they’re doing.
Looking for cracks in your story.
Digging for lies.
“Look at your face.” Leighton claps her hands together. “You want to do it. I can tell.”
I shake my head. Part of me does. But the other part is struggling to breathe.
“Let’s make a deal.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
She presses on. “We take another set of pictures. See how Penny reacts.”
“Leigh—”
“I let you set up my entire website.”
I shake my head. “You start accepting clients.”
Her silver fingernails tap the table. “Sure.”
She’s too relaxed. There’s some loophole here. I need to close it.
“You start advertising. Actively looking for clients,” I say.
Her blue-green eyes fill with worry. “I don’t know.”
“You’re good enough.”
“And if I’m not?”
“You are.”
“Not an answer.”
“You offered a deal. I countered. Take it or leave it.”
She stares into my eyes. “Okay. Yes.”
She’s going to actually pursue design.
Fuck, that warms me everywhere.
It opens up my airways.
I suck a deep breath through my teeth. “You’re not gonna find some bullshit loophole?”
“No. I promise.” She offers her hands. “You let me help you. I let you help me.”
“You tell me why you took the job at Inked Hearts?”
She smiles wide. “No way in hell.”
It’s still a good deal.
I take her hand.
Shake.
Let the warmth of her touch fill me everywhere.
Chapter 7
Ryan
Leighton’s phone clicks as she snaps a picture of her lunch.
We spent the last few days ironing out the details of our arrangement.
She gets one day of photos with free rein over what we do and how we pose.
I get one nig
ht to put her website together.
And one month of her actively seeking out and accepting clients.
“What happened to fries?” She glares at the sautéed kale that comes with her burger. Nudges her iced coffee into place.
“Less disturbing than coffee with a burger.”
“No. This is America. You’re unpatriotic.”
“You wore all black at Walker’s Fourth of July Barbecue.”
“So did you.” She looks to my plate of shrimp curry. “The food. Then you. Then both of us.”
I nod sure.
She arranges the food just so, snaps a picture, turns the camera to me. “Look natural. No. Smile. No. Natural.” Her finger slides over her cell. “Your call.”
I pick up my water, take a sip, stare at the hotel across the street.
It’s modern, expensive, beachfront. The kind of place to spend your wedding night after a ceremony by the pier.
The kind of place Penny and I would have—
Click. “Contemplative Ryan. Classic. I’ll add a caption about how the beautiful weather is making us think about our big day.”
I shake my head.
Not going there.
Not letting Penny infect my thoughts.
Even if this expedition is to… to make my ex feel something.
Leighton is after something specific.
But why? She keeps insisting she should play my girlfriend at this wedding.
There must be a reason.
More than her wanting to help me.
“Ahem.” She clears her throat.
We have a deal. I need to hold up my end of the bargain.
I settle into my chair.
Stab a shrimp with my fork.
Leighton moves around the glass table and takes the seat next to mine.
She rests her head on my shoulder and turns the camera to selfie mode. “What do you see for your wedding?”
Penny.
I still see her. In a flowing gown, holding a bouquet of pink flowers.
Staring into my eyes.
Smiling like she’s so happy she could die.
I blink and it’s gone.
Replaced by the lemon sun bouncing off the glass tables.
The planters of succulents lining the patio.
The bright green umbrellas casting shade over the busy restaurant.
“Ryan?” Leighton’s fingers brush my stomach, pressing my t-shirt into my skin.
“Yeah?”
“I guess that’s a no on the wedding planning.”
I nod.
“You ready to do this?” She motions to her cell.
“Yeah.” I slide my arm around her. Settle into the pose.
Click.
She turns to me. Pushes my hair behind my ear. Laughs as the wind blows it over my eyes.
Click.
“One more.” Her palm plants on my neck. “Like this.”
She leans in.
Brushes her lips against my cheek.
She’s soft.
And she smells like cherry ChapStick.
It fills someplace that’s usually empty.
My eyelids press together.
My heartbeat picks up.
My body screams for more.
But that isn’t happening.
It’s going to have to get over it. “Your lunch is gonna get cold.” I motion to the burger on the other side of the table.
“Oh. Right. This first.” She loads the first pic—the one of her kissing my cheek—to Instagram. Types. He’s the only thing sweeter than dessert. “Too cheesy?”
“You don’t mean it like that.”
Her cheeks flush. “I should add an eggplant emoji.”
“And the water drop emoji.”
“And lips.” She laughs. “Spell it out.”
Fuck, the places my head is going—
Her laugh is rich. Full. She shows off her Facebook. It’s right there. He’s the only thing sweeter than dessert. Lips. Eggplant. Water drops.
An I’m talking about his cum story in three images.
I shake my head.
“You’re no fun.”
“Good.”
She erases the emojis and replaces them with a winky face. “Compromise?”
“Fair.”
“There.” She hits post, sets her cell down, moves back to her seat. “What is this?” She stabs a leaf of kale.
“You suggested this place.”
“Still.”
“You love kale.”
“But with a burger?”
“Someone else tell you to order this burger?”
She laughs as she points at me.
I shake my head you’re ridiculous.
“You think we’ll get a reaction?”
“You gonna edit it with that I love cock story if you don’t?”
“Is that a dare?”
“I know better.”
Her phone buzzes. She grabs it. Stares. “Not her yet.” She chews. Talks with her mouth full. “Okay. This is good.”
I bring a spoonful of curry to my lips. Creamy coconut, ginger, lemon, gangal, crunchy carrots. “Fucking amazing.”
She picks up her knife and cuts her burger in half. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“It’s so… healthy.” She motions to my plate. “Vegetables, shrimp, brown rice.”
“You only pretend to like that orange chicken?”
“No. I…” She twirls a purple strand around her finger. “But don’t you ever want something bad for you?”
“What do you call this—” I motion to her cell.
“You don’t want to do this. I had to talk you into it.”
No. I want it too. There’s a monster in my gut dying to make Penny jealous. To show her how little I need her. How much better off I am without her.
But that’s an ugly impulse.
One I should reject.
“You do want it.” Her eyes light up. “Ryan Maddox. Desperate to make your ex jealous.” She smiles. “You’ve finally come to your senses.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Good.” She looks to my plate. “Now, we can work on your lunch.”
“I ordered this ’cause I want it.”
“But what about french fries—”
“It’s a travesty. This place doesn’t serve french fries.”
She laughs. “Ice cream?”
“Sure.”
“Sure? All ice cream rates is ‘sure’?”
I shrug. “It’s not sex. It can only be so good.”
“What about sex?”
I arch a brow. “What about it?”
She takes a bite of her burger. Talks with her mouth full. “Oh my God,” She chews. Swallows. “This is amazing. Not sex. But—” She takes another bite. Offers me what’s left of the half. “You want some?”
I shake my head.
“Your loss.” Two more bites and she’s done. “Have you been with anyone since Penny?”
“No.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’ve gone a year—”
“Fourteen months.”
“Fuck.” She licks aioli from her pointer finger.
“You?”
“It’s been… not fourteen months. But awhile.”
“Why?”
She shakes her head. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“You’ve been single—”
“For two years.”
“There must be a reason.”
She traces the outline of her fork with her thumb. “It’s not one we’re discussing.”
“Yeah, it is.”
She shakes her head.
“You want me to agree?”
“Of course.”
“Then I need to know what the hell you get out of this.”
“Helping you isn’t enough?”
“No.” It needs to be something else. Something that will convince me this won’t fuck shit up.
She stares into my eyes.
I stare back.
“Fine.” She taps her fork against her plate. “You’re incredibly annoying. You know that?”
“Of course.”
She presses her lips together. “There’s someone I want. But he’s not available.”
My shoulders relax.
She’s getting something out of this.
Shit isn’t going to get weird.
This is good.
But there’s another part of me, one that hates the idea of her with this guy who—“You’re the other woman?”
“No. He’s just… You know what. It’s none of your business.”
“And my tragic love life is yours?”
“Well…” She takes a long sip of her coffee. Stares at the glass. “Okay. Yes. I want to do this because of him.”
“To make him jealous?”
“No… to make him see I’m an option.”
“Dean offers to fuck you ten times a day.”
“It’s not Dean.” She takes a long sip of her drink. Lets out a soft moan. “He’s nothing like Dean.”
“Walker?”
“How is Walker nothing like Dean?”
“Brendon?”
“You’re not gonna guess.”
“I know him?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah.” I stare into her eyes. “You deserve a guy who will move the stars for you.”
She stares at her plate. Pushes her kale to its rim. “He would. If he was mine. But he’s not.”
“Tell me you’re not as hopeless as I am.”
Her laugh is sad. “Is anyone?”
“True.” I study her expression. Her brow is furrowed. Her eyes are turned down. She’s frustrated. And she’s off somewhere else.
Who the fuck is this idiot who can’t see how amazing she is?
I have to know.
“He, uh…” She takes a long sip of her iced coffee. “He’s the only person for me. I’ve tried to get over him, but I can’t. Is it the same for you?”
“I don’t want her anymore.”
She stares into my eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
Me either.
She lets it slide. “He’s not like Penny. He’s a good guy. He deserves it.”
“How do you know?”
“How do you know you want to do tattoos?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
“Exactly.” She sits back. Brushes a purple strand behind her ears.
“No offense, Leigh, but he sounds like an idiot.”
“Why’s that?”
“He can’t see how amazing you are.”
Her eyes turn down. “He has his reasons.”
“How good could they be?”
Her smile is sad. “Good. But he… it doesn’t really matter. He’s not interested.”