Grumpy Fake Boyfriend

by Jackie Lau

  Since Will and I are leaving tomorrow afternoon after I finish work, I should probably pack. I haul my suitcase down from the top shelf of my closet and start filling it with shorts, jeans, tank tops, and T-shirts. I throw in my colorful beach towel and the red polka-dot bikini I bought the other week.

  My friend Ridhi calls while I’m searching for the sunscreen. Ridhi is one of the women who will be going to Grand Bend with us. She’s a make-up artist, and she’s engaged to Ian, who used to work with Jordan. I haven’t seen her in a few months, and I’m looking forward to catching up.

  “Julia told me you’re bringing a boyfriend,” Ridhi says when I pick up the phone.

  “I am!” I hope I sound convincing. “His name is Will, and we’ve been going out for a month.” I plop down on my bed.

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “He’s a friend of my brother’s. My brother’s wife introduced us because she thought we’d make a great couple.” I’m not quite sure why I added that last part. I just felt like I needed something more than “friend of my brother’s.”

  I really hope Will and I can pull this off.

  I know he thinks it’s stupid that I don’t want to go alone, but I’ve been in other situations where there were three or four couples...and me, without a date. Let me tell you, it’s definitely uncomfortable. A dinner isn’t so bad, but this is three full days. When we retire at the end of the night, I would hate to lie in my bed alone while everyone else drunkenly makes out and has sex.

  With Will there... Well, we’ll lie side-by-side, not touching. Marginally better, I suppose.

  Still, it’ll be nice not to be alone when I’m surrounded by two engaged couples and my ex and his new girlfriend, and everyone will think I’ve moved on. They won’t realize I’ve been stuck in a rut for the past several months.

  “How’s the wedding planning?” I ask Ridhi.

  She groans. “There are so many things to figure out, and dealing with my mom takes up so much energy. She’s thrilled one of her daughters is finally getting married, and everything she wants is over the top. She doesn’t understand that I see this wedding as being a mix of mine and Ian’s cultures, and then there’s Ian’s mom...” She laughs. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear all about it this weekend. God, I can’t wait. I need a break. You’re sure you’ll be okay with Jordan?”

  “It’ll be fine. We’re both with other people now. It won’t be awkward at all.”

  Ha. A little awkwardness is inevitable.

  “I wonder what his new girlfriend is like,” I say.

  My friend doesn’t immediately respond.

  “Ridhi, have you met her? Are you guys having fun without me?”

  See, that’s the problem with couple friends. When you’re no longer part of the couple, people forget about you.

  “Jordan invited me and Ian over for dinner one night, that’s all. Krista was there.”

  Krista. So that’s her name. I wish it was an ugly name, but I quite like it. Actually, it’s one of the names Jordan and I had picked out for our children.

  How weird is that?

  “She’s nice,” Ridhi says. “She didn’t say a lot, but she seemed nice.”

  Well, she sounds sort of bland, to be honest, but maybe she’s in Cirque du Soleil and can bend in ways that would probably land me in the hospital if I tried. Yeah, I bet she’s totally beautiful and can manage any sex position anyone’s ever thought of, and Ridhi isn’t telling me because she doesn’t want me to feel bad.

  Or perhaps my imagination is running away with me.

  “I should get going,” I say. “I need to finish packing. See you tomorrow.” I’m excited, though a little less excited now that I’m thinking about Krista-the-possible-contortionist.

  After ending the call, I lie back on my bed and sigh. Is it ridiculous to go to the beach house at all...and to go as far as getting a fake boyfriend for the occasion? Are my brother and sister right?

  Oh, well. It’s too late now. My plan is already in motion.

  If nothing else, it should be interesting...

  Chapter 4

  Will

  Naomi is driving me crazy.

  I was supposed to meet her at three thirty at the passenger pick-up at York Mills subway station. I waited and waited...and finally she emerged, fifteen minutes late, mumbling something about a subway delay. She’s wearing her big sunglasses again, as well as a pretty yellow sundress, though I haven’t gotten a good look at it since I’m keeping my eyes on the road.

  Though to hear Naomi talk, you’d think I wasn’t looking at the road at all. She’s a terrible backseat driver.

  “Watch it!” she shouts again.

  The 401 is busy, as usual, and it’s particularly bad because it’s the Friday of a long weekend. Since I have a flexible schedule, I can usually avoid driving when it’s really busy. Alas, that was not possible today.

  “I was already slowing down,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Do you seriously think I didn’t see the car in front of me?”

  “Then why didn’t you slow down earlier?”

  “Why didn’t you notice I was slowing down?”

  Naomi and I got along fine last Saturday at Starbucks, but things are different today. I guess it’s not surprising that being on the highway in heavy traffic is putting us in a bad mood.

  I fear this is going to be a very, very long weekend.

  “Let’s pull over at the next rest stop and get some coffee,” she says.

  “No. We aren’t going to waste time making stops. Even with the traffic, it should take us just over three hours to get there. It’s not too long of a drive.”

  “You don’t think three hours is a long drive? Really? There’s no way I’m making it that long without a pee break.”

  “If you buy a coffee, you’ll need a second pee break, which will waste even more time.”

  “Why do you care so much about wasting time? Are you that excited about hanging out with my friends? I was led to believe you didn’t like people.”

  I don’t want to be in the damn car with Naomi anymore, that’s all.

  “How about this,” she says. “After we get coffee, I’ll drive and you can sleep.”

  “Nobody drives my car but me,” I growl. “Nobody.”

  “I’m an excellent driver.”

  “I don’t care if you’re an excellent driver. I’m the only one who drives my car.”

  “You’re a control freak.”

  “I’m not a control freak,” I say, perhaps too loudly and forcefully.

  “No?”

  “I just don’t like being a passenger in a car. Especially not in my car.”

  “Okay, Will. I get it. It’s your car. Now take the exit for the next service center. It’s in two kilometers.”

  “I know, genius. I can read.”

  At the service center, Naomi and I wait in line at Tim Hortons. I get a coffee, and she gets an iced cappuccino as well as ten Timbits. I make a face at her box of donut holes.

  “I didn’t eat lunch,” she explains as we walk back to the car. “I’m starving.”

  “Donuts are not lunch. If you didn’t eat lunch, you should have something more substantial. Something that has nutritional value and doesn’t give you a deep-fried sugar rush.”

  “Are you one of those freaks who eats nothing but grilled chicken breast, quinoa, and salad?”

  “Of course not. But I do not eat donuts for lunch.”

  “This isn’t lunch. It’s a snack. I was just explaining that I was hungry because I’d missed lunch. And I refuse to think about nutrition on a holiday.”

  “It sure doesn’t feel like a holiday to me,” I grumble.

  “You know, if people are going to believe we’re a couple, we should stop squabbling so much.”

  I unlock the doors and climb inside the car. “I don’t know, darling. My parents always squabbled a lot on vacation. Maybe this makes us an even more believable couple.”

  “We’ve only been toge
ther for a month! We’re supposed to be in the lovey-dovey stage. Arguing about donuts comes later.”

  “I’ll remember that for the next time you ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend. And it’s your fault we’re squabbling.”

  We argue about arguing as I pull back onto the highway. Fortunately, Naomi soon turns her attention to her drink and donuts. I hope she’s not getting powdered sugar and sprinkles all over the seat. I don’t say anything, though.

  This is going to be a very long weekend indeed.

  * * *

  Naomi directs me to a large glass-and-wood house just south of Grand Bend.

  I whistle as I pull up. “Your friend’s family sure is rich.”

  “They own a sporting equipment company.” Her voice is clipped. She’s still not happy with me.

  The feeling is mutual.

  There was less traffic—and less backseat driving—once we got off the 401, but the tension between us was practically visible. Now, as she climbs out of the passenger’s seat, I notice rainbow sprinkles on the seat. Dammit.

  I’m pulling our suitcases out of the trunk when a couple emerges from the fancy house. The woman has red hair, pale skin, and a full figure. The man, also white, is over six feet tall—he’s got a few inches on me—and built like a football player.

  Naomi’s face immediately transforms from pissy to happy.

  “It’s so great to see you!” she says, hugging the woman, then the man.

  Time to get started on this boyfriend-girlfriend act. With a woman I’ve decided is totally not the kind I would date—if I were interested in dating. Although when she grins at her friends, she does look quite lovely, and I can’t help but wish she smiled like that for me.

  After all, I’m her boyfriend, aren’t I?

  I close the trunk and go to stand beside Naomi. When I place my hand on her lower back, she doesn’t flinch, so I guess that’s a good start.

  “This is Will,” she says, briefly turning her smile toward me. “Will, these are my friends, Julia and Tom.”

  I nod and shake hands with both of them.

  “Julia is a lawyer at a large Toronto law firm,” Naomi says. “Tom works in finance. They’re getting married in September.”

  I bet these are career-oriented people. Law and finance. Hmm.

  “What do you do?” Tom asks me.

  “I’m a writer.”

  I hate these getting-to-know-you questions. People always ask the same things about my work. Sometimes they add that they always wanted to write a book and proceed to tell me their not-so-fascinating ideas.

  “Cool,” Julia says. “What do you write?”

  “Science fiction.”

  Naomi takes over answering the questions after that, listing off the names of my books and such. I don’t mind. Saves me from having to do it. She speaks as though she finds me the most exciting person ever, which is rather sweet of her.

  “We thought you two could stay in the guesthouse.” Tom points behind him at a little building separate from the main house.

  Excellent. I like the idea of Naomi and I being apart from everyone else. Should be quieter. And if we actually were a couple, it would be more private for having sex.

  Which we won’t be doing, of course.

  I pick up our suitcases and walk along the flagstone path. I can’t believe I’m staying at a place with a guesthouse.

  But when I step inside, I can’t help but frown.

  “This is not a king-sized bed,” I say.

  “No. It looks like a double. I’ve always stayed in the main house before.” Naomi bites her bottom lip, and then one corner of her mouth curves up. “But this is probably for the best because Jordan is really, um, loud. When he has sex, I mean. This way, I won’t have to hear it.”

  “It’s a double bed.”

  “We’ll manage.”

  I’m not a large guy, unlike Tom, but I’m far from small. I’m five-ten and certainly not a beanpole.

  Well, this is going to be fun.

  “If it bothers you that much, you can sleep on the couch.” She points to the far side of the room.

  “That’s a loveseat,” I protest. “Not happening. I don’t want to be curled up like a snail. The bed is better.” Marginally.

  I sit down, hoping we don’t have to go to the main house for a little while. I wonder if anyone else is here yet?

  Unfortunately, my question is immediately answered when someone pounds on the door.

  “Come in,” Naomi says, and a woman flies into the room and throws her arms around my so-called girlfriend. They squeal in the way women sometimes do when they haven’t seen each other for a while.

  If this keeps up, I’m going to get a bloody headache.

  “Oh my God,” the other woman says. “You’re here!” She looks around the room, and her eyes land on me. “You must be Will.”

  I nod.

  “I’m Ridhi.” She’s a little bigger than Naomi, with light brown skin and black hair that ends at her lower back. South Asian, I think. “And this is Ian.” She tilts her head toward the door, where a tall man—maybe Chinese or Korean—is standing. We nod at each other, and that’s that.

  Seems like the women will do the talking.

  “Ian has read your books,” Ridhi says. “He’s very excited to meet you.”

  Um. Yeah. Ian sure looks excited. He smiles at me and nods again.

  I think the two of us will get along okay. I’m already planning our bromance. Maybe we can go fishing together in silence, leaving everyone else to lounge on the beach and catch up.

  Except I kind of want to be on the beach so I can see Naomi in the swimsuit she’s currently holding up to show Ridhi.

  “I got this last week,” Naomi says. “Isn’t it cute?”

  It certainly is. The bikini is red with white polka dots, a tiny bow between the cups on the top. The bottoms are very short shorts. I picture Naomi wearing it and...

  Well. I should probably not be thinking about that right now. Not ever, in fact.

  Still, she’ll wear the bikini at some point this weekend. I will get to see her in it.

  And then we’ll have to share a double bed in this little guesthouse, separate from everyone else.

  I suppress a groan. It’s the perfect situation for hooking up, but I can’t have her. We’re just pretending to be interested in each other. She’s Jeremy’s little sister, and I promised him that nothing would happen.

  “I haven’t seen that one before,” I say, coming to stand beside her. I brush her hair back from her shoulder.

  Dammit. When I stand close to her, I feel warm. It’s not the air, because there is—thankfully—air conditioning in here.

  “I need to get freshened up after the long car ride,” Naomi says to Ridhi. “We’ll join you in the house in ten minutes.”

  “Maybe there’s something else you need to do, too.” Ridhi waggles her eyebrows.

  “Ridhi!” Naomi pushes her out the door, then heads to the bathroom.

  She spends a full ten minutes in there. I have no idea what she’s doing. Why do women take so long to get ready?

  But when she emerges, she looks beautiful, and I forget about the fact that she drove me bonkers in the car. She hasn’t changed her outfit, but she’s taken her hair down, and it frames her face and flows over her shoulders.

  “What?” She puts her hands on her hips when she sees me looking at her. “Do I have powdered sugar on my chest?”

  “No, it’s not that.” Not at all. “Though you did get sprinkles all over the seat of my car. And your shrieks when you saw Ridhi nearly destroyed my eardrums.”

  I need to remind myself that I don’t want this woman, no matter how cute she is.

  Chapter 5

  Naomi

  God, Will Stafford is irritating.

  He didn’t even want to take a coffee-and-donut break at Tim Hortons. What kind of Canadian is he? It’s not like we were in a rush to get to Grand Bend, and yet we got into a pissing match w
hen I wanted to stop. Then he lectured me for buying donuts.

  The cheek of that man! What does it matter to him if I gain a few pounds?

  He’s also a terrible driver who follows too closely. Once or twice, I swear he didn’t see the car in front of us, though he claims he was always in control.

  Yeah, that car ride definitely soured any interest I had in hooking up with him.

  Fortunately, he’s been less annoying since we pulled up to the beach house. He smiled—sort of—when introduced to people. Shook hands, carried my suitcase.

  Those are far from big accomplishments, but I’d been a little worried he’d just start swearing at my friends.

  He’s also made some attempt to play the role of boyfriend. He touched my back and shoulder a couple of times. Small gestures of affection.

  Not that they meant anything, nor did they make me feel anything.

  Of course they didn’t.

  Now he’s telling me that I got sprinkles all over his car and my shrieks destroyed his eardrums. I want to curse at this insufferable man, but it’s probably best we head straight to the beach house.

  When I step outside, a mini SUV is parked in the driveway.

  Jordan is here. Lovely.

  I lift my chin. I can do this.

  Will reaches for my hand. I nearly push him away, and then I remember it’s part of our act. This is what I want him to do.

  I haven’t abstained from sex since the break-up. I like sex; why deprive myself of it when I’m not in a relationship? There have been a couple of men. But hand-holding isn’t something I’ve done since Jordan.

  That’s probably why I’m enjoying holding hands with Will, because I haven’t held hands with anyone in a long time. It has nothing to do with him.

  I hear laughter as we approach the house. It sounds like everyone’s outside, so I lead Will around the porch to the back, where my friends are relaxing with drinks and a view of Lake Huron.

  My gaze immediately zones in on Jordan, sitting on a lounge chair with a leggy brunette on his lap. She looks younger than the rest of us. I’m twenty-nine, and Jordan is thirty-one, and this girl... She’s old enough to drink, but not by much.