Pretend You're Mine

by Francisco, Fabiola

  “My mom has a sweet tooth, so she made sure there were plenty of choices,” Poppy explains, almost salivating on the plate in front of her.

  “Let me guess, you inherited your mom’s sweet tooth.”

  “Guilty as charged, but I’m not the tiniest bit sorry about it. Lock me up with all my sweets and throw away the key if you have to.”

  I chuckle at her exaggeration and inspect the two dishes. “Okay, I’m going to start with this.” I take a small spoonful of the tiramisu as Poppy eyes me, waiting for my reaction.

  “That’s good,” I say with my mouth full and take another bite.

  “Hey, leave me some.” She swats my arm away.

  “You should’ve gotten two.” I pretend I’m going to eat it all, and Poppy tries to jam her spoon into the spongy and creamy dessert. I pull it toward me faster than she can take a piece.

  “Harris Miller, you let me have a piece of that.” Her warning tone is cute. So cute, I almost give in, but this is fun.

  “Or what?” I challenge.

  “I’ll buy all the jerky stock, and you won’t be able to get your fix for the few weeks that it will take them to reorder.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I narrow my eyes.

  “Try me.” She smirks confidently and cocks her head to the side.

  “I’m not risking my jerky.” I place the tiramisu between us as a peace offering.

  “Good choice.” She takes a bite and moans. “This is good.” She covers her mouth with her hand as she speaks between bites.

  “Told ya. Now, let me see what else you got.”

  Poppy and I try the different desserts as we continue to tease each other. It adds another layer to what I already know about her, just spending time together without asking each other questions like an interview. It’s so much better, and I prefer getting to know a person this way than the awkward and stunted twenty questions game.

  At one point, her dad thanks everyone for coming and taking the time to celebrate with him. Despite my original idea about him, he seems like a humble and good person, not like the controlling or uptight father I thought he’d be when Poppy first told me about him and her mom. They seem normal, or as normal as people from Everton can be because, to me, they’re still a breed of their own.

  Poppy announces she’s going to the bathroom and to get more water for us, and I stay in my seat, staring at the empty dessert plates. We just ate every single one. She wasn’t kidding when she said she had a sweet tooth.

  “Are you having a good time?” Mrs. Powell sits in Poppy’s chair, smiling.

  “I am, thank you. You’ve organized a great event.”

  “Thank you. I love party planning, and I’ve never had the chance to organize a ball.” She looks around the room, taking in her handiwork.

  “Anyway,” her attention is back on me, but she now has that mom look, and I have no drink nearby to get rid of my dry mouth. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen that gleam in my daughter’s eye.” She smiles, but I can tell she’s analyzing me.

  Part of me worries that she’s on to our lie, and another part of me hates thinking of it as a lie because I’ve had fun spending time with Poppy. It’s effortless, nothing like what something that is fake should feel like.

  I smile, but she continues talking before I can speak up.

  “She’s been through a lot. If I know her, she hasn’t said anything to you. She’s a proud person, keeping some things to herself. I just hope you see how special she is.” It’s the sweetest warning I’ve ever received, what with her bright smile and soft eyes.

  I’m unsure of how I’m expected to respond, so I say, “It’s quite obvious she’s very special. Not many women, or people for that matter, are like Poppy.” It’s the truth, and Mrs. Powell seems satisfied with my answer.

  She pats my hand and smiles. “I’m happy to see your heart is in the right place.”

  I swallow down the bitter-tasting lie, and smile and nod. This is Poppy’s plan, I’m just here to offer her some help.

  “All right, I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she stands and leaves as Poppy returns.

  “What did she say?” Poppy hisses as she drops on her chair.

  “Nothing major. She just wanted to see what my intentions are with you.”

  “Oh God, please tell me she didn’t mention a wedding or grandchildren.” Poppy cringes, but that doesn’t stop the wave of red swooping up her neck to her cheeks.

  “Breathe easy, she doesn’t expect us to walk down the aisle anytime soon.”

  “Good,” she exhales and leans back on her chair.

  Curiosity gets the better of me, and I ask, “Do you not want to get married?”

  Her eyes pop open as she looks over to me. “Huh?” She leans forward. “One day, of course. But I don’t want my mom approaching my fake boyfriend and asking him when he’ll be proposing.”

  Another reminder of the truth behind our relationship. We might as well have been invited to a masquerade ball because I’m well-dressed for it. I may not be wearing an elaborate mask with dark feathers covering my face, but the role I’m playing provides more of a disguise than that decorated plastic would.

  “You’re safe.” I give a curt smile and drink the water she brought me.

  “I know this probably seems so stupid to you, but I do appreciate you doing this for me.” She looks everywhere but at me as she speaks. When her eyes finally land on mine, the gleam her mom mentioned is gone. The color has turned from bright aqua to a sullen ocean right after being hit by a storm. They are defeated and confused.

  “It’s not really a big deal.” When Knox asked me why I was doing this, what was in it for me, I didn’t have a response. I didn’t agree to help Poppy for any reason other than to help her, especially after seeing her panic with Patrick. After learning more, I’m glad she has a buffer to keep him away from her.

  Not everyone makes a conditional choice, and I didn’t decide to do this with the expectation of getting something in return. Although, getting to know a wonderful person I probably wouldn’t have had a chance to meet, at least not in the way that I am, has been a bonus. However, the idea that we’re lying to everyone isn’t sitting well with me.

  I expected to not care about what her parents thought, especially when I assumed they were arrogant people who were disinterested in their daughter’s happiness. I was wrong about that, and now lying to them doesn’t feel as easy as I originally thought.

  Poppy seems comfortable with all of this, so I have to wonder what her backstory is. What does she hide from the world? What part does she keep to herself, and how can I reach that side of her as well? I’m not sure I have a right to, but the more I learn about her, the more curious I become. Once I cross that line, I’m not sure there’s any way to go back to being the strangers we were before all this started.

  Poppy

  I rush into the grocery store to buy a bottle of wine, groaning when I see the long line at the cash register. My leg shakes as I check the time on my phone. I’ll be late for our weekly book club at this pace. I write out a quick text to Averly to let her know I’ll be there with wine—my peace offering for being tardy—as soon as I can pay.

  After the ball on Saturday, Harris and I haven’t had a chance to see each other. He had to fly out to Nashville with Knox and returned last night. We texted a bit back and forth, him asking what people were saying about us.

  I ran into Ainsley at Cup-O-Joe, and she invited me to sit with her. I hesitated at first, but her blonde hair shines like a halo, and I’m convinced she’s the sweetest person that exists in this world. I couldn't turn her down.

  I focus back on the line when I notice the person that was paying is walking away. I take a step forward, assuming the people in front of me would as well. I almost crash into the two women, who are huddled together and whispering. That’s when I hear what they’re saying.

  “It seems to be true. They were together at the ball on Saturday, and my sources tell me they were v
ery cozy.”

  Sources, pfft.

  The other woman gasps. “Do you think he’s joined the bet with the others?”

  “No doubt.” The first woman doesn’t hesitate. Her voice is so low, I need to strain to hear every word. “The new guy in town always has higher chances…”

  I’ve had enough. I clear my throat and throw on a sweet smile. Sweeter than the cupcakes one of the women is carrying.

  “Are you in line or can you finish your gossip on the side of the aisle so I can pay?”

  Both women’s eyes widen, and their skin turns ashen. No doubt, they didn’t check to see who was behind them before they started talking.

  “I mean, after all, you can grant me your place in line so you can continue talking about me without me having to hear every word.” I step around them and take their place in line, setting the wine on the counter.

  When I finally finish paying, I turn to the two women and wave my fingers. “Toodles. I’ve got a hot date tonight and don’t want to be late.” I wink and walk away as their huffs and puffs fade behind me.

  Their Eau de Snob almost suffocated me.

  As soon as I park in Averly’s apartment complex, I race up the two flights of stairs. “I’m here!” I declare as I swing the door open. “Sorry, but the line at the grocery store was longer than usual, and then I had two Gossip Gwens in front of me who were talking about Harris and me.”

  “Gossip Gwens?” Faith, another one of my best friends, asks.

  “No way!” Averly shouts at the same time.

  I look between both of them and then at Abbie, who is the quiet one.

  These three women are my best friends. We’ve known each other since we were young.

  “I call gossipers Gossip Gwen,” I explain first. I used to watch a TV show when I was younger, and one of the characters who was a meddler and gossip was named Gwen. I started calling all the people who fit the profile Gossip Gwen. “And yeah, they didn’t realize I was behind them, and when they didn’t move forward in line, I heard they were talking about me, so I interrupted their conversation.”

  I set the wine on the counter.

  “You did not,” Abbie gasps. She was always taught to mind her manners, no matter what.

  “I couldn’t stand it. They were saying he’s in on the bets.” My eyes pop open.

  “I doubt he is,” Faith comforts. She doesn’t know that Harris isn’t in on the bets because I cornered him to be my boyfriend to help me out of a bind. I’ve only shared that with Averly.

  “Are you sure?” Abbie’s eyebrows pinch together, and her lips tip down.

  “Positive.” I cross my arms. They should know I have better judgment than that.

  “I don’t think he is either,” Averly adds. “Harris seems to be a great guy and totally smitten with you.”

  I turn and glare at her without the other two seeing my expression. Averly just smiles and claps her hands. “Okay, wine time. We can talk about this after our discussion.”

  Thank goodness for her turning the attention away from my love life and focusing it back on why we’re here—good wine and great books.

  I’m a school teacher, not a millionaire, so the wine can’t be top-notch all the time. A five-dollar bottle does the trick just like a twenty dollar one would. Don’t believe me? We once brought both to book club and covered the labels. Then, we tried the two wines and voted on our favorite. All four of us chose the cheap wine.

  Conclusion: cheap wine is only cheap because of the price tag.

  Or, we have cheap taste buds. Either way, five-dollar bottles of wine always win out.

  A phone buzzes mid-discussion, and we all check to see if it’s ours. Ah, the days of technology where our small, smart devices own us—me included.

  “It’s mine,” I announce though I’m not sure why since they already know it’s not theirs by looking at their empty notifications.

  Harris: Apparently since people haven’t seen us together in the last few days they’re saying you broke my heart and I ran back to nashville to get over you

  Harris: I need to remedy this for my pride so I want to take you to dinner tomorrow

  “Oh, it must be Harris by the look on her face,” Faith teases.

  “Unless she has another secret boyfriend she hasn’t told us about,” Abbie eggs her on.

  “Jerks,” I mumble and read his message again.

  “So, is it Harris?” Averly prompts.

  “Yeah, he wants to grab dinner tomorrow.” I try my best to keep my voice even, but it rises a bit at the end of my response. I swallow down my excitement. This is still fake, he just wants to prove to everyone that we’re still a couple in the eyes of the town.

  Then why do I feel like butterflies have started to ravage my stomach? Or, why is my heart suddenly sprinting as if it were running a one-hundred-yard race in Track and Field? And most importantly, why am I picturing Harris and I out on a date, holding hands and kissing?

  I think I’m going to be sick. I blame the butterflies. Not the fact that you may actually like Harris?

  I shake those thoughts out of my head and look at my friends, who all wear matching smiles. It’s kind of creepy, actually.

  I type back a quick response, all my wittiness having disappeared from the panic that I may actually like Harris. As if that should be a surprise.

  Poppy: Sounds great… Just let me know where and what time

  Harris: I’ll pick you up at six

  Poppy: Okay, thanks

  Harris: You don’t have to thank me

  He’d make the perfect real boyfriend to someone someday. For now, I can use him as my fake one and imagine what it would be like.

  Poppy: Okay see you tomorrow

  Harris: See ya

  “So?” Averly leans over my shoulder.

  “Hey, quit being a Nosy Nancy.” I press my phone into my chest.

  “I already read it, so there’s no need to hide it.”

  “Ugh,” I groan and squeeze my eyes. “We’re having dinner tomorrow,” I repeat. “That’s all.”

  Averly gives me a knowing smile, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched. That reminds me, I should get my eyebrows waxed tomorrow if I have time, or pluck the strays. Do guys even notice that?

  We finish our book club, and I help Averly clean up before leaving. She gives me a hug and whispers, “Just enjoy it. If you like him, it’s okay.”

  I nod against her embrace and mumble, “We’re just playing make-believe.” I’ve been teaching children for too long.

  “Okay.” She pats my back and steps away. “Maybe we can grab a drink on Friday, and you can tell me all about it,” she winks.

  “Sure.” I wave over my shoulder as I walk out of her door and take the steps down slower this time, no longer in a rush to get anywhere but remain stuck in my mind and racing thoughts.

  Harris

  I’m excited to see Poppy. I’ve only known her for a week and a half, and I already expect to see her often. I guess that’s what happens when you’re preparing to act as someone’s boyfriend. I wouldn’t know. This is a first for me; however, I actually missed seeing her the few days that I was away. Knox and I had an impromptu trip to Nashville to see Sutton.

  After the ball on Saturday, I was hoping I could spend more time with Poppy, even if under the pretense that we have to keep up this charade for the town’s purpose. If I get the time to get to know her better, I’ll take it. Asking her to dinner was the logical choice. Couples eat out together all the time. It’s been a few years since I’ve had a girlfriend, but I’m not oblivious to the way things work.

  I make a left and pull into the complex that has a sign with bold letters making up the name she sent me in her text. From her explanation, she’s on the second floor. I find the way to her apartment and knock on her door.

  “Be right there,” her voice sounds through the door, and I hear clanking inside.

  “Are you okay?” I lean into the door and ask.

  “Yeah, I j
ust dropped something.”

  I chuckle and wait for her. When the door swings open, I’m greeted with the brightest smile and most beautiful eyes. They really are a unique color.

  “Hey, sorry about that,” she says, but I’m too busy checking her out. She’s wearing a sweater that exposes one of her shoulders, and her jean skirt shows off her legs, complete with cowboy boots. I smirk at her choice of footwear.

  “It’s okay,” I say, looking back up to her face. Fuck me, she’s wearing that red lipstick.

  “Do you want to come in?” She holds the door open.

  “Actually, we should get going. I made reservations for six-thirty.”

  “Reservations and all? Look at you,” she teases with a giggle, and I’m tempted to kiss her. A boyfriend would greet his girlfriend that way, but I have to restrain myself.

  She pops inside to grab her purse, leaving the door open. I peek in to see what I can of her place. I spot a pile of mail on a small table and a gray sofa on the other side.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” Poppy rushes back. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to Romano’s.” I remembered she loves Italian. Her eyes light up as if I hit the jackpot, and she groans.

  “Heck yeah!” She practically jumps on me, memories of when she hugged me after scoring a strike at the bowling alley hitting the forefront of my mind. Her warmth wrapped around me, I had a hard time keeping my mind off her body and focusing on anything else.

  I chuckle and wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go get you some pasta.”

  Poppy tenses slightly as my arm surrounds her, but she instantly relaxes. Maybe I pushed too far with physical contact, but she had no problem dancing close to me on Saturday.

  The car ride to Romano’s is quiet, only the music filling the space. I sneak a look at Poppy from the corner of my eye and notice her eyes are closed.

  “Are you tired?” I ask.

  She blinks open one eye and tilts one side of her lips. “No, I just love this song.”

  “You should’ve said so.” I turn up the volume so she can listen to the words Tyler Hunt sings.