by Jackie Lau
But those were no big deal. Really, they weren’t.
She couldn’t see how Tom would want a relationship with her, and that shouldn’t bother her at all. She’d decided he was unsuitable practically from the moment she set eyes on him.
“Tom is much better than Chicken Face.”
Julie looked up from the bok choy. “Who’s Chicken Face?”
Her mother actually looked a touch embarrassed. “It’s what I called your last boyfriend. The one you brought home for Christmas two years ago.”
That wasn’t actually her last boyfriend, but Julie didn’t share everything with her mom.
“Joe,” Julie said.
Mom waved this away. “Joe, John, Jordan. I could never remember his name, so we called him Chicken Face.”
Julie suppressed a laugh and did not ask why.
“First of all,” Mom said, “Chicken Face was in landscaping.”
“Which isn’t as prestigious as pharmacy, I know.” Julie sighed.
“Wah, it was not only that! He was not as kind and polite as Tom. And you have seemed very happy on the phone for the past month.”
Because Julie had enjoyed lying to her parents. How messed up was that?
“Whenever you are in a room together,” Mom said, “he is focused on you, and he looks at you like...” She fanned herself.
“Mom!”
But Julie couldn’t put together any words after that.
What exactly was her mom seeing? Why did it make Julie’s heart flutter?
“Also, he got you a nice gift,” Mom said. “Chicken Face—”
“Please stop calling him that.”
“But I have already forgotten his name.”
“Joe.”
“Joe got you a box of chocolates. Very generic gift. Not appropriate for a girlfriend. Though it was better than the toothbrush from Christopher.”
“How do you know Joe didn’t give me something else when we were alone?”
“Well, did he?”
“No,” Julie sulked.
“I didn’t ask how much money Tom spent on that yarn. I would probably not approve. It’s yarn. Can’t you buy yarn at the dollar store? But you looked happy with it and I know you knit. It’s nice he’s spending money on you. I’m sure he’s mostly smart with his finances, so this is okay. He’s treating you well, yes?”
Julie set down the knife. She’d known her parents didn’t only care about her getting a good job and also having a boyfriend with a good job.
Still, it was easy to forget sometimes.
“Chicken Face was not so attentive,” Mom said. “I notice these things.”
It was true. “Chicken Face”—Julie was going to have a hard time getting that out of her head—hadn’t been worthy of Julie’s affections.
Tom, however, would make a good husband for some accountant or engineer one day. He was attentive and thoughtful.
Julie felt a rush of guilt. She’d been lying to her family. Talking about her “boyfriend” over the phone was one thing, but he’d spent the holidays with them. Her mother adored him.
Her mother would be heartbroken when it was over.
“I’m going to get the wontons,” Julie mumbled. She hurried down the stairs to the basement and took a moment to compose herself before opening the freezer.
This was spinning out of control. She was making snow angels with Tom and trading mashed potato sandwiches for blowjobs.
And letting everyone treat him like part of their family.
It wasn’t an innocent little lie anymore.
But she’d come this far; she wouldn’t tell the truth now. And when they “broke up” in a few weeks, she’d tell her parents she’d ended it; she couldn’t bear to say Tom had dumped her. If her mother called her foolish in every phone conversation for the next six months, well, Julie would deserve it.
She swiped at the tears threatening to fall from her eyes, then grabbed some wontons and headed upstairs.
“Hey.” Tom met her at the top of the stairs and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”
“Why would you think anything’s wrong?”
“Your footsteps sounded angry.”
“You’ve spent forty-eight hours with me and now you think you can read my moods based on the sound of my footsteps?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Well, no. But I thought I’d check, just in case.”
She sighed. She shouldn’t be upset with him. He’d done nothing wrong.
Like the straight-A student she was sure he’d been, he’d get good marks for his performance as her boyfriend today. But it was all an act, aside from his attraction to her. That was the one thing she had. She couldn’t imagine he was faking that part.
She pulled him into the front room, where no one else would hear them.
“I feel guilty for fooling my family,” she said. “My mom loves you.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yes, but it’ll hurt when I tell her that we broke up.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You can say I did something horrible. I’m not sure what, but you have a better imagination than I do. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
But she’d already decided to take the fall for the end of their “relationship.”
Oh, God.
Bringing a pretend boyfriend home for Christmas was not supposed to be this confusing.
She’d always been the sister who got herself in trouble. Never that much trouble, really, but she was the one who’d come up with crazy schemes and break curfew. Not Charlotte.
It was just who she was.
“This was a mistake,” she said. “I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”
She could have sworn she felt him stiffen.
“It’s okay,” he said, running his hand through her hair as she burrowed against him. “Mistakes happen.”
“I doubt you ever make mistakes.”
“I got ninety-eight percent on a math test once.”
She looked up at him. He was laughing, the bastard.
He’d probably gotten below ninety-five on a test but wouldn’t admit to it.
“I also gave myself food poisoning,” he said. “I undercooked my chicken.”
She snickered. “If it were me, it would have happened when I was cooking dinner for my entire extended family.”
“I did have to miss an exam because I was violently ill.”
She snickered at that, too, and he shot her a look.
“And I bet you’ve been very, very careful ever since,” she said. “You bought yourself an instant-read thermometer, printed out a list of safe temperatures for different types of meat, and put it on your fridge.”
She did like this man. More than she would have thought possible.
And she loved teasing him and getting under his skin.
She was still feeling a bit of guilt—and all sorts of other complicated things—but it was better now, with him.
When they returned to Toronto, Tom wouldn’t be part of her life anymore, but for now, she’d enjoy it. She wouldn’t let her thoughts intrude.
She tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his.
This kiss, it wasn’t because she’d made him snap. It was different. Gentle.
Yet it still made her press her thighs together and want to be naked with him once more.
* * *
After dinner, they all hung out in the living room and had a conversation about...something or other. Julie had stopped paying attention several minutes ago because she was looking out the window.
Snow was falling slowly in large flakes. Under the streetlights, it looked almost magical.
“You okay?” Tom murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“Yeah. Just looking at the snow.”
It had snowed the night she’d met Tom. She remembered that now—it might have been first snow of the year. She hadn’t thought it was romantic then.
But now...
/> “You want to go for a walk?” Tom asked.
Chapter 10
Tom Yeung wasn’t very good at living in the moment. He was always thinking ahead, planning something, going over his to-do list.
If he told Julie that, she’d probably make fun of him, but in a fond way.
She was better at living in the moment than he was.
Wearing her red jacket and koala hat, she spun in the snow under the streetlight. There was no purpose in doing such a thing, except because she wanted to.
“Julie,” he said suddenly. “Do you like your life as it is right now?”
She stopped spinning, which was a pity.
“It’s pretty good,” she said. “There’s time to relax and do the things I want. It’s hardly a life of luxury, but yes.”
“Would you want to make jewelry full-time?”
She considered this for a moment. “I don’t think so. That would put too much pressure on me to produce at a particular rate. To make pieces that would sell the best, rather than what I want.”
It was very different from how he’d ever imagined living, but he couldn’t picture her doing something similar to what he did. She wouldn’t like it, and he didn’t want that for her.
No, despite her parents’ expectations, she’d created the sort of life that worked for who she was, and there was nothing wrong with that.
He wasn’t like Julie, and he wouldn’t try to change who he was, but maybe, for tonight, he could try to focus on the present. On the falling snow and the woman at his side.
He wouldn’t think about how this was their last night here.
Being in Ashton Corners was like being in a different world. He’d never spent time in a small town like this. It was so quiet, unlike the city. Yet the weekend had contained a level of messiness and chaos that wasn’t part of his life in Toronto.
He took her mittened hand in his and led her down the street, not knowing where it went and feeling strangely okay with that.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Julie stopped and looked out at the snowy streets.
“I’m trying to figure out how to capture this feeling,” she said. “That probably sounds ridiculous to you.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Though he wouldn’t have the foggiest idea where to start. “For your jewelry?”
“Perhaps. It’s serene, and yet I feel...alive.”
He was fascinated by how her mind worked. By how she’d come up with that brilliant gingerbread house design in such a short period of time. He’d just looked up recipes online and produced an overly-detailed schedule—that wasn’t the same.
Once again, they ended up at the school, though he supposed there weren’t many places to go in a town this small.
“Let’s make another attempt at snow angels,” she said. “Ones that actually look like angels, not like two people rolled around in the snow together.”
This time, he lay back in the snow without being pushed. He moved his arms and legs as he looked up at the falling snow and stuck out his tongue.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Making a snow angel.”
“And...?”
“Tasting snowflakes,” he muttered.
She didn’t tease him about that.
“Tastier than mashed potato and ketchup sandwiches,” he said.
She laughed, her laughter the only sound in the quiet night, and he was entirely too pleased with himself for making her laugh.
Being here with her was intimate, even though they weren’t touching, but he couldn’t explain why.
But dammit, he was tired of being apart from her, and they had tonight, if nothing else.
He rolled on top of her.
“I think you just ruined your snow angel,” she said.
“Screw my snow angel.”
He felt like they’d switched roles in their relationship.
Fake relationship.
Whatever.
She laughed again, and he kissed her cheek, which was very cold.
“I think we need to get you inside,” he said.
“You just want to have sex with me.”
“I don’t just want to have sex with you, though you do owe me a blowjob. I mean, if you want to do that. If you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay.”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” she said. “We could have sex out here. Nobody’s around.”
“I think having sex outside in the winter is a step too far for me.”
Suddenly, the image of her tongue getting stuck on his dick—like a child licking a metal pole—popped into his mind. It was nonsense, of course.
His dick might be as hard as a metal pole, but it wasn’t nearly that cold.
He shifted on top of her, bringing his cock against her thighs.
“Tom,” she moaned.
“Let’s go home,” he said. “And by ‘home,’ I mean your parents’ house. Where there are four other people.”
As nice as the falling snow was, there were other things he’d rather be doing.
* * *
This time, Julie was the one who pressed Tom against the wall and kissed him, only stopping to pull his sweater over his head. Then she went right back to kissing as she started unknotting his tie.
It was paisley, and it was hideous.
But she kind of liked it anyway, and now, she got to take it off. That was the best part. Stripping him down.
Once his shirt was undone, she ran her hands over his chest, reveling in the catch of his breath, the way he wasn’t fully in control, the way he removed her clothes with desperation.
It didn’t take long for them to get naked.
She pushed him down so he was sitting on the bed, and then she knelt in front of him.
As soon as her lips encased the tip of his cock, he tilted his head back, and his expression was one of agonized pleasure. She removed her mouth with a soft pop and pumped him up and down as she licked his shaft.
He sifted his hand through her hair as she sucked him, and she threw herself into the task of making him feel good, squirming with need at the same time.
This may be the only time you get to do this...
She pumped him harder and took him as deep as she could, wanting his groans to make her forget what the two of them were to each other.
His hand tightened in her hair.
She moved her mouth faster and faster.
“Julie...”
He pulled her off his cock and positioned her on the floor, on her hands and knees. She heard him opening a condom packet, and then he slipped two fingers into her.
Yes, she was wet, so wet for him.
He withdrew only to thrust his cock deep inside her, and she pressed her face into the sleeping bag.
She’d wanted this, and it was as good as she’d imagined.
He pushed into her, again and again, yet as wonderful as he made her feel, she couldn’t quite forget.
This might be all we have.
And she wanted to cry out in pleasure, in anguish, because this could be the last time she felt him inside her, but she had to be quiet, much as it pained her.
He pressed his chest against her back and kissed the side of her neck. She collapsed onto her stomach, and still he kept fucking her. When he stopped moving, she almost moaned her disapproval, but then he flipped them over; she was on top of him and they were both on their backs.
He began to pump into her from below. He massaged her breast, running his thumb over the hardened peak of her nipple.
“God, you feel amazing,” he murmured. “So amazing.”
He planted kisses on the back of her neck before moving his hand between her legs, circling her clit in time with his thrusts, and she came with a strangled whisper, the soles of her feet tingling.
“Can you do that again for me?” he asked.
Yes, for him, she was pretty sure she could.
His thrusts became harder and deeper, and it was too much, too much, but just right at th
e same time...
She covered her mouth to muffle her scream.
* * *
Once they were in their pajamas, Julie climbed into bed, shifted over to the wall, and tapped the space next to her. Tom lay down with a smile and wrapped his arms around her.
She felt utterly spent, but she had a soft after-sex glow, and lying here with him was just what she needed.
“Once we’re back in Toronto,” he said, “I don’t have to pretend anymore, right?”
That after-sex glow receded.
“That’s right,” she said.
“So, I guess this is our last night.”
She turned to face the wall so he could hold her from behind, and also so he couldn’t see how her foolish eyes were filling with tears.
He hadn’t said anything about wanting to see her again.
And why would he?
He’d agreed to a weekend with her, that was it. She’d never thought she was his type, no matter what Bridget said.
He also didn’t seem like the type to have sex with a woman he wasn’t dating, but perhaps fake dating was enough for him, and he could see this as a little break from the rest of his life.
Then he could go back to counting his silverware or ties or whatever he did in the evenings. She couldn’t see how she’d fit into his world.
She felt silly for being affected by this. A part of her yearned for him to say, Let’s stop pretending. Let’s make this real.
She wasn’t in love with him, but she could be in time. She knew that now.
How damn pathetic. He wasn’t the kind of guy she wanted for herself, right? It was just her parents getting in her head; her heart was trying to follow her parents’ wishes.
Except that wasn’t like her. She’d been proud of the fact that she did what she wanted.
But then she’d spun stories about Tom for a month, just to make her parents happy.
Not that sorting out her feelings mattered. Tomorrow, they’d be going back to their real lives, and so she’d build fences around her stupid, stupid heart.
She shut her eyes and envisioned those fences.
“You okay?” Tom murmured.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She rolled over to face him again. Instead of thinking about all these feelings, she’d get lost in his body. Enjoy it as sex, nothing more.
She slipped her hand under the hem of his plaid pajama shirt so she could touch his skin. Soft and warm; he’d been like a furnace last night when she’d fallen asleep in his arms, and that had certainly been nice in the cold weather.
