Pretend You’re Mine

by Black, Natasha L.

  Xander’s face looked like a mask. “Is that what you’ve been thinking all this time? That I’m some soulless manipulator who’s just been using you from the start?”

  “Have you?”

  He had it all wrong, but I didn’t care now, I just wanted to know. I just wanted to know what this was, how it had begun, everything.

  “What you really want to know Naomi?” His voice was raised, way louder than it needed to be since we were both in the car.

  “I don’t know. All I know is, at Babylon I drank until I was drunk, and I had this stupid annoyance of my family’s upcoming visit rumbling in the back of my mind, wondering what the hell I could do. And then I met you, and a crazy night happened, and we woke up married.

  “And we decided to run with it. I didn’t expect to actually care for you; I didn’t expect for any of this to have happened. I didn’t even want any of this to happen, but it did. And we’re here now. So if you want to know the truth of the matter, Naomi, then it’s this; I want things to work with you.” He reached out for my hand.

  “I want to be with you, and not just for pretend. This isn’t just a show for me anymore.”

  All of me ached to take that hand. To kiss him and to let that kiss be enough. Let practicalities fly to the wind, let us be caught up in the heat of each other’s bodies, in the passion of each other’s movements. But I’d done that. I’d been doing that, and all it had left me with was more heartbreak and uncertainty.

  Although that didn’t mean I was going to pull away for good.

  “I have to go now,” I said.

  And I left, because it was true.

  28

  Xander

  She’d wanted to say yes, to come with me. All the way home I played and replayed the final scene in the car in my head. She’d wanted to say yes, I knew she had. But she couldn’t let herself. And now that she hadn’t? Now that she left it like that?

  I didn’t allow myself an answer. No, I auto-piloted it all the way home, and, once there, I started pacing.

  I couldn’t sit down. Every time I did, some thought that I was sure if I had said this or that things would’ve gone right, got me back on my feet ready to go to her; until the answering thought convinced me that that was pure stupidity.

  Walter gave out a dismal whine.

  “I know I’m an idiot,” I said, crossly. “I’m just trying to figure out how to make things right.”

  Walter gave a sharp bark.

  “I’m doing my best here, okay?” I said.

  Walter bowed his head, finally silent. Yep, I was losing it. Talking to my dog. Though Walter, whatever I was imagining him thinking, was right. Naomi and I couldn’t keep going on like this.

  Screw the whole family situation, the only thing that mattered to me right now was figuring out a way to be with Naomi.

  Starting out, I certainly hadn’t intended for my relationship to end up like this, actually having feelings for her, but it had. I’d meant every word I said to her. Now, the only thing to think of was how to convince her of it.

  My phone dinged. It was an email from some chapel. Clicking on it, fully expecting some kind of plea to help the Lord in His good work and donate, I was instead slammed in the chest with the picture.

  Would you just look at us?

  Naomi and I, that first night, our married hands joined. Our smiles were clearly drunk, we looked to be leaning into each other for support. The guy who had married us must’ve been drunk himself, or just an ass. And yet, there was no doubt that the two people in the picture were obliviously, stupidly happy.

  I traced my finger across the screen of my phone. Who would’ve known what a clusterfuck of trouble we’d get ourselves into with that one stupid drunk decision.

  I had just started pacing again when a bark stopped me. Walter was at the door, clearly expectant for his walk. Out and away, away from the house, away…

  I went up to Walter and gave him a pat, scooping him up and scratching him right under the chin the way I knew he loved.

  “Good boy,” I said.

  Although this time, I meant it in more ways than one. Because Walter had just given me a great idea. Finally, I knew what to do.

  29

  Xander

  Am I really going to do this?

  Yes. No way was I turning back now. I’d driven all the way to Eighteen, and now, here I was, peering through the window like a weirdo. Although it was worth it.

  I got to see Naomi in her element – working on what looked to be two different clients at once, cutting away at the first, happy.

  And then the venue itself … I gave it a good look. It looked just how I would've imagined it – a black, white, and teal color scheme, with chic decor.

  Feeling eyes dig into my back, I turned around to see two teenage girls gawking at me like the weirdo I was afraid of looking like.

  I scowled as they ambled by, giggling to each other. That was probably my cue to go in.

  Inside, the eye-watering smell of hair products was what hit me first. Pretty fruity and overpowering, but bearable. Next was the buzzing of a blow dryer and efficient scissor clinks.

  My shoes almost slipped on the smooth tile, although I caught myself just in time.

  The blow dryer snapped off.

  As Naomi whirled around to look at me, I grinned. "Have time for a shave?"

  She just stared at me. "What are you doing here?"

  The stares of the three other women, the two getting their hair done and the one waiting, were asking the same thing, but I kept my gaze locked on her.

  I walked right up to her comment in an undertone, said, "The other night, you said we don’t really know each other. So, I'm here to get to know you."

  That smile was there. "By me shaving your face?"

  I grazed my fingers along my jaw, feeling the few days’ worth of growth. Normally I’d let it grow and for a week or so, but this would do.

  "By your shaving my face, yeah."

  Her answer was working itself out in her head, I could see it.

  "Fine," she finally said, motioning to a chair where another frizzy-haired woman was waiting. "Wait your turn, and I'll come to you."

  So I did. I sat myself on the suede seat that enveloped me pleasantly. I flipped through the fashion magazines before concluding that actual, interesting magazines weren't here. I watched Naomi, her hands an efficient blur. She was wearing purple and white sneakers I'd never noticed before.

  My mind wandered to the Christmas party the next day. It seemed hard to believe how quickly the past few weeks had flown. Okay, not really flown, more like tumbled, clambered and stammered, one move away from complete chaos.

  Then again, who was I kidding? If the next night went how I thought it was going to go, it would be complete chaos.

  I sat and waited. And waited and waited. I waited while she finished cutting the hair of one lady, wrestling her curls into a masterpiece of elegance. And then I waited as she cut another woman's red hair to a stylish bob. I waited as she gave the third lady a shampoo and a set, expertly working her straightener on the frizzy hair. I was amazed that the end result was a smooth and chic style that looked nothing like the disaster the woman had walked in with. Naomi was truly an artist and I found that I loved watching her work.

  And, once all women were gone and finished, I could wait no longer.

  "Want help?" I asked as Naomi set about sweeping up the piles and plops of hair all over the ground.

  "I'm fine," she said.

  I got her a plastic cup of some coffee from the coffee machine anyway.

  "Thanks." She smiled. I didn't move.

  "Oh, all right," she said with a sigh.

  "Okay, so the grand tour," she said. "Here's chair one. Here's chair two." Her hands swept about where she described as she walked. "Here's the waiting area. Here's my break room."

  She strode into a small hallway I followed her into. She flicked her arm in a cupboard-sized room and then walked away, although I
was still peering inside it.

  On the wall, there was a poster board filled with pictures I wanted to ask about.

  The sounds of Naomi cleaning up filtered over.

  "What about my shave?" I called after her.

  She stopped walking. "You were serious?"

  "You weren’t?" I said.

  "I just thought you were looking for an excuse to show up at my work like a creeper," she said with a half smile.

  I grinned at her. “Creeper, eh? Yeah, I suppose it could have looked like that. But no, I know you’re busy and I wanted to spend some time with you so I figured this would be the easiest way. Plus, I do need a shave so, two birds with one stone and all that. I pride myself on efficiency.”

  She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, trying but unable to hide the smile that pulled at her lips.

  “Fine. A shave it is,” she said, stepping over to me. She basically shoved me into a chair, although I wasn't complaining.

  "I like me a take charge kind of woman,” I said.

  Naomi was busy surveying me with narrowed eyes, trying not to smile.

  "What?" I said.

  “Has anyone ever told your that you are relentless?” she asked.

  I laughed out loud at that. “I have been accused of that a time or two, yes,” I admitted.

  “As long as you’re aware,” she said, stepping forward and placing a towel around my neck.

  I kept my mouth shut and closed my eyes as she got to work. It was strangely intimate, her rubbing in the shaving gel, then gliding the razor in long unbroken strips over my cheeks and jaw. Almost pleasurable – that glide with the odd scrape… The lap of the razor. How many times had I had my face shaved many times before and it had never been sensual like this.

  And then, her other hand on the back of my neck, steadying her shaving hand.

  When my eyes opened, I wanted to kiss her, but she'd already moved on, patting my face dry, now finished.

  "What’s in the back room?" I asked.

  As quickly as I'd forgotten about the picture-covered board, just now I'd remembered it.

  "You mean my break room?" she asked.

  "Yeah, the poster board with all the pictures."

  Naomi took her time saying, "Oh. That."

  "Yes, that." I swiveled my head at an angle to eye her. Clearly, she was finished anyway, already putting away her tools. "Just my dream board."

  That was all the permission I needed to get to my feet and head that way.

  "Xander!" she cried, rushing over to grab my arm, but it was too late.

  I was already back in there, looking at it, seeing the pictures.

  The building labeled Eighteen. The clasped hands. Some wooden cabin that caught my eye. I pointed, "What's this?"

  "I … It's stupid." Naomi wouldn't meet my eye.

  "Your dreams aren’t stupid. What is it?" I said.

  "You're going to laugh."

  "I won't."

  "Fine. Whatever. It's just another one of my dreams – owning a gorgeous, all-wood chalet in one of the forests in Germany like that. Saw some movie with this great one as a kid and I’ve wanted one ever since."

  Now her smile went pragmatic. "Pretty crazy, but a girl can dream, right?"

  I had my own views on that, but my finger had already gone to the building labeled Eighteen "But this – this was a dream and you actually did this."

  “True."

  My finger went back to the chalet. "Why not this then?"

  Her smile was flummoxed, but my attention had already moved on to the picture of the clasped hands. "And this?"

  Her face went red beautifully. "Cut it out, okay?"

  She was already through the doorway when my hand caught her wrist. Gazing at the picture, I narrated what I saw, "You see yourself with someone who supports you, brings out the best in you."

  That stopped her.

  When I was a teen and had messed up one of my early girlfriends, my mom had sat down and gave me a talk. "There will be big moments in all your relationships, Xander," she’d told me, "Know when they are. And more importantly, don't screw them up."

  I couldn't say what made me think that this was one of them, but it did. Only problem was, with the way a thousand different words were scrambling around in my mind at the same time, I was bound to screw it up.

  "Thing is, I do too," I said. "And Naomi…"

  But she didn't even give me the chance. Whirling around, her face surprisingly pained, she said, "Don't say it."

  "But…"

  "Let's just get through this family Christmas dinner of yours," she said hurriedly.

  I shut my mouth. Naomi was right, of course. Big moment or not, I hadn't intended to start some soliloquy about what we were and weren't. We had to do today, today – and tomorrow, we could figure out tomorrow.

  Naomi was already back in the main haircutting area, looking to the front door. "I have to finish up my Christmas wrapping."

  Her tone was light, but I knew a brush-off when I heard one.

  I rifled through my wallet, finding bills shoved into different pockets for some stupid reason. "How much do I owe you?"

  She put her hand over mind to stop me. "It's fine."

  "I mean it, I…"

  Her hand closed over mine, her voice coming out with effort. "Please."

  It seemed to me, as we stood there, her hand underneath mine, every bit of her as tensed and pained as her voice had been, that this was another one of those moments. And this time, I knew what exactly what to do.

  "Fine," I said. I walked out of there, and I didn't look back.

  30

  Naomi

  Either I’m delusional or… I’m delusional.

  But here I was, my arms laden with Christmas gifts for people that either I would likely not see, or that I probably shouldn’t see; my parents, I got both limited-edition hardbound Bibles, which I’d heard from Teren that they’d been eyeing. For Walter, I got these cute booties I couldn’t say no to. Xander, despite my better judgment, got a Dali wallet. He’d mentioned his love for the artist one time while we were out, even mentioning his favorite painting, although I couldn’t for the life of me remember it. Lately, all our dates had blurred into one, pleasant haze.

  I shook my head. There was no point in deliberating over it now. I’d bought the gifts and that was that.

  If things blew up with Xander how they were probably bound to, I could just return the gift, plain and simple. Besides, it would be bad form showing up to Xander’s family’s Christmas party tomorrow without any gifts. Speaking of… I hadn’t responded to his text confirming that we were still on.

  Seconds after I sent my ‘okay’, my phone was ringing.

  “Just okay?” Xander said.

  “We didn’t exactly settle things last night,” I pointed out.

  “Not for lack of trying,” Xander shot back. A dissatisfied noise. “Walter was inconsolable.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from giggling at that. “Anyway. I just wanted to say about you coming. I mean, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “But what I’m trying and failing to say is that you don’t have to go to my family’s Christmas party if you don’t want to. Even though, obviously, I’d love it if you were there.”

  I smiled, glad that he couldn’t see me over the line. Xander was usually so put together, that this was adorable.

  “I’ll go,” I said.

  “Really? he asked, sounding both surprised and relieved. “I can pick you up at six. Be ready.”

  My ‘goodbye’ was halfway out of my mouth when he hung up.

  I stared at the phone for a minute before putting it down. I was still so conflicted about what was going on. Xander had told me again, with no sex involved, that he wanted to be with me. I could see in his eyes that he’d meant it, but I was too afraid to let myself believe it.

  What I had gone through with Eric had really fucked me up worse than I thought it had. I wanted
so badly to trust Xander and everything he was telling me, but my damaged heart was stopping me. What if I let myself fall again, only to land in a heap on the floor like Eric had left me?

  Xander wouldn’t do that to me, would he? The way his mouth had curled in disgust when he told me about his father’s philandering, told me that he abhorred the idea of cheating. But what if the temptation was too much one day? I couldn’t go through that again.

  Luckily, before I could waste any more time in the never-ending game of ‘will he or won’t he’, my phone rang.

  “I’m calling to invite you to Mom and Dad’s in…. now!” Teren said.

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  “Come over and see,” he said.

  Before I could say anything else, he hung up. I frowned at the phone, resisting the urge to chuck it on the seat next to me.

  I wondered what my baby brother had up his sleeve. I wanted to know, before I walked into a potentially uncomfortable situation at my parents’ house.

  Calling Teren back went straight to his voicemail.

  “This is Teren. If you know me, then you’ll know I almost never check my messages. So, whoever this is, your best bet is to call again,” his voicemail’s cheery voice informed me.

  “I know you won’t check your messages,” I muttered to myself. “But would telling me what the hell’s going on kill you?”

  Guess I was going to just have to find out myself.

  Granted, if he’d invited me to Mom and Dad’s, that must’ve meant that they forgave me, right?