by R. C. Martin
Ashton and I met in Boulder when we were both studying for our undergrad. He moved to Fort Collins after graduation in order to work toward a masters in food science—which he’s earned. Now, he’s studying for a masters in nutritional science and he’ll probably go on to receive his doctorate. I swear, if someone paid him to be a professional student, he would be. He’s already the smartest person I know and by the time he’s done, I’m sure he’ll be making bank and saving lives somewhere.
I pour him another beer and make my way to where he sits at the end of the bar, buried in a book. Only Ashton. He and our other roommate, Ryan, stopped by for lunch. When Ryan had to split to go catch up with his girlfriend, Ash stayed behind with a book—so typical. The crazy thing is, it snags him girls all the time. Not that he takes advantage. He’s far from a player. In fact, he’s holding out for someone great. I admire him for that.
“Do you even know what summer break means?” I ask, setting down his glass before folding my arms across the counter as I lean in front of him.
He smirks at me as he shakes his head. “Don’t judge. This will be you in a few weeks.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I concede with a chuckle.
“It got a little slow around here,” he mentions, glancing around the bar. “What time are you off?”
“Got a few hours, yet. Unless Eric sees fit to let me leave early. I don’t mind either way.” Eric is the bar manager here at Coopers; has been for ages. He’s a cool guy and I like working for him and Henry—the general manager. As far as bosses go, I lucked out. My schedule is pretty consistent right now and they’ve made it clear that they’ll work with me and my class load when they consider my shifts this fall.
“Is your sister planning on dropping by?”
“Not that I know of,” I reply, confused by his sudden interest in Daphne. “Why?”
“The Princess is here,” he says, nodding behind me.
I turn my head to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Logan is headed our way. She’s wearing a simple, white, sleeveless dress that accentuates her waist and shows off her long, tanned legs. I’m fairly certain that girl doesn’t own anything that drapes below mid-thigh. Her long, platinum blonde hair is piled on top of her head, leaving her regal neck and fine shoulders on display. I’d say she’s trying to look casual but, knowing Logan, I’m sure every bit of her appearance is somehow calculated to ensure that each pair of eyes in the room glances her way.
Mission accomplished.
Logan and I don’t exactly get along. I’d say we’re acquaintances who tolerate one another for the sake of my sister—about the only thing we have in common. She’s Daphne’s best friend and has been for a few years, now. I know the two of them were drawn together under unique circumstances, which forged their unshakeable bond, but sometimes it still amazes me how they can coexist so well. They are very different people.
It’s not often that I have to put up with Logan without Daph and I can’t deny that a part of me is curious to know what she’s up to. I watch as she strolls right toward me, occupies the seat beside Ashton, and drops her purse on top of the bar.
“We need to talk,” she announces without preamble.
I stand up and fold my arms across my chest, not the least bit impressed with her entrance. “Hi, Logan.”
“Hi,” she says, shaking her head and waving her hand, as if brushing away the greeting. “We need to talk.”
“Hi, Logan,” pipes in Ashton. I have to clench my jaw in order to keep myself from laughing. I definitely owe him a beer for joining in on the fun.
Logan takes a deep breath before flashing a grin at him. “Ashton. How’s your date? I mean—your book?” she asks snidely before focusing her attention back on me. “We need to talk. I don’t have all day.”
“What do you want, Logan?”
“It’s about Daphne and Trevor.”
“Stop right there. Not interested.”
I abide by one rule when it comes to Daphne and Trevor. Don’t ask questions.
I was introduced to Trevor a couple years ago, but it wasn’t until I moved to town that I started getting to know him. Interestingly enough, he is how I found my church. He’s not a believer, but he attends The Rock in Old Town every once in a while. He recommended it to me when I mentioned to Daph that I was looking for someplace to attend. I tagged along one Saturday night that he decided to go. I’ve been going ever since.
I can see why that particular community of people attracts him. It’s a pretty young crowd—most members between the ages of eighteen and forty. It’s not a traditional setting and he’s not a traditional guy. They welcome him—we welcome him—even though he doesn’t wish to be a part of the Christian faith. It’s obvious that he’s looking for something, which is why he bothers to show up. Yet, in all the time I’ve known him, he hasn’t made the choice to surrender. I’d like to believe that it’s God he seeks and that one day he’ll let Him in. For now, he’s just not there yet.
He’s got some demons he’s wrestling with. We don’t talk about them—we’re not that close—but it’s written all over him. It’s part of the reason why he and my sister are so close. I can’t explain it, really, but they understand a hardship that I can’t relate to. I’m sure their stories aren’t the same, but their testimonies connect them. Furthermore, they are in love with each other. It’s no secret. Why they aren’t more than friends, I don’t know. I’ve learned not to ask. As weird as their relationship might be, I respect him for not making my sister his savior. I respect him for knowing that whatever war is waging inside of him, it needs to be over before he can be the man my sister deserves.
While Logan and I aren’t friends, Trevor and I are. A few of us guys like to get together and shoot hoops once a week. On the court, his world and my world collide and our friends have common ground. It’s fun to hang out. Since he’s so close to my sister, I see him plenty off the court as well. With that in mind, I know that whatever drama Logan wishes to stir up, I don’t want to be a part of it.
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say!” she protests.
“Are they okay? I’m assuming they haven’t been in an accident of some kind.”
“No. They’re fine. But—”
“Are they fighting?”
“No. But, Roman—”
“Then I don’t want to hear—”
“Would you shut up for a minute and just listen?” she huffs.
Her adamancy amuses and irritates me. Her impatience makes her undeniably attractive, whether I like her or not. It’s the way she pinches together her eyebrows and pouts her lips. I refuse to be putty in her hands, like I’m sure so many guys are, but I know she won’t leave until she gets her way. I opt to offer her a minute of my time. I shrug, signaling for her to go ahead.
“It’s time those two faced reality. They should be together. Like, legitimately together. They both want it, they’re just scared. So, I struck a deal with our beloved just this morning. She’s willing to at least be honest with him about her feelings.”
“Okay,” I respond flatly. “Sounds like you’ve got this under control. What do you need me for?”
“Well, there are conditions that have to be met before she will talk to him.” She hesitates. I gesture with my hand for her to get on with it. “I have to be in a relationship myself before she will fight for hers.”
I throw my head back in laughter. Daphne knew exactly what she was doing when she made Logan promise that. My sister is brilliant. Logan doesn’t even date. Asking her to take on the title of someone’s girlfriend is just too perfectly comical not to laugh. And yet, the look on her face showcases her disagreement and offense. Unfortunately, for her, that just makes me laugh even more.
“I don’t know why you think this is so funny—especially considering I’m recruiting you to be my fake boyfriend!”
My laughter ceases immediately, as if everything funny in the world suddenly disappeared. I take a step closer to her, tilti
ng my head to imply that I didn’t hear her. I couldn’t possibly have heard what I think I did. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me.”
“No.” I declare, shaking my head to emphasize my point. “Not happening.”
I fold my arms across my chest and smirk as I glance over at Ashton, who is now laughing just as hard as Roman was a second ago. When I walked in and saw him sitting at the bar, the thought crossed my mind to use him instead. He’s good looking enough. He’s a halvsie baby—half black, half white—with gorgeous skin, sexy stubble, and hazel eyes. It was a fleeting thought, of course. He’s too studious. Not that there is anything wrong with being smart, but there’s no way he’d pay enough attention to me to convince Daph that he was my man.
Roman, on the other hand, is perfect. First, because I’ve been attracted to him since the moment I laid eyes on him and Daphne knows it. Not that my appreciation for his looks is particularly noteworthy. I’m one of many. He’s got a smile that would make any girl with a heartbeat drop her panties. He’s well built, his physique maintained through yoga, believe it or not; and at six one, I could wear almost any of my heels without standing taller than him. He’s got too much dark wavy hair that’s longer in the front, shorter in the back, and messy all over—which is unbearably hot, especially when he rakes his fingers through it agitatedly…like he’s doing right now. He also sports a well kept goatee most of the time, which adds to his rugged charm.
It’s his eyes, though, that compel me to flirt with him every chance I get. I can never stop myself. It’s like he begs to be played with. I’ve never seen such alluring brown eyes on anyone.
The second and most important reason why he’s an ideal choice is because he doesn’t do relationships. Daphne was right. We might not be single for the same reasons, but neither of us has dated anyone the entire time we’ve known each other. I don’t know much about his romantic past, but I know enough to be sure that I can count on him not falling for me. It won’t matter how much hand holding, cuddling, or kissing we have to do to be a convincing couple. Neither of us has anything to lose by playing this game.
The only caveat is, we don’t actually like each other very much.
“Hear me out,” I say, calmly.
“No need. I’m not doing it.”
“Why not? It’s not that big of a deal,” I protest, throwing my hands up in frustration. “All you have to do is take me out on a few dates, pretend to like me every time Daphne is around, and then ask me to be your girlfriend in a few weeks. After that, we’re done. She talks to Trevor and we break up.”
“Do you hear yourself?” he scoffs. “I’m not lying to my sister, especially if it means I have to pretend to be your boyfriend.”
“Would you think about someone other than yourself for two seconds? We’d be doing this for the greater good.”
He coughs out a laugh, void of any humor, before gripping a fistful of his hair and taking a deep breath. “You think this is me being selfish? And what greater good? Trevor and Daphne—”
“They need our help,” I interrupt, standing to my feet. I feel like he’s got too much of an advantage over me, standing behind the bar all domineeringly. I rest my hands on my hips as I continue. “My plan is brilliant. If you would just take a moment and think about it, you’d see it too. You’re friends with Trevor—you can encourage him from your end while I encourage Daph from mine. And, since we’re all friends, we can double date. It might not even take that long if we play our cards right. We could have them humping like bunnies before the end of August.”
“Humping like bunnies,” he repeats under his breath. “I’m going to get back to work,” he says, dismissing me.
“Roman!”
“Logan,” he begins, pressing his hands against the bar as he leans toward me, “I don’t know what pretty little world you live in, but it would never work. There’s a reason they aren’t together. They are looking for something bigger than themselves and pushing them into bed with one another could destroy them—”
“Or save them,” I argue, leaning toward him in my own show of stubborn determination. “They’ve done it their way for three years! It’s not working. They’re just torturing each other at this point. There is a love between them that is better than any romance I’ve ever read or dreamed about! If it weren’t for all the depressing shit they’ve been through, it’d be a damn fairy tale. I’m not just trying to push them into bed with one another. I’m trying to encourage them to overcome whatever it is that’s still holding them back!
“I know I’m not the dating kind, but I would be if I could have what they have,” I continue, hoping to appeal to his sensitive side. “And don’t you dare tell me you don’t feel the same way, because it would be the biggest damn lie I’ve ever heard you tell. Now, will you just help me? I need a guy I can trust and you’re as good as it gets.”
We’re so close to each other, our noses are almost touching. In the silent space between us, I can hear my rapid breathing—brought on by my growing excitement. His hesitation calms me down, just slightly. I snatch up the opportunity to compel him further.
“Do it for Daphne. After everything she’s been through, she deserves true happiness with the man she loves more than anyone else in the world. You know the gravity of that love, considering how much she loves the both of us. It’s a big fucking deal.”
He shakes his head and pulls away from me, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of mine. “She’d never believe us.”
I free a sigh of relief and bite down on my lip, hoping to contain my victorious smile.
I’ve almost got him.
I suck in a deep breath, willing myself not to show any more hope than is necessary, before I speak. “She will. We just have to pretend like we’re just as surprised as she is that there’s a spark between us. Believe me, I’ve been brainstorming all day. We can make it work. We can still bicker, as usual. It’ll make us charming. But we have to put up with each other a lot more, too. Then, of course, there’s the physical aspect—”
“Hold on, hold on,” he insists, putting up his hands to signal that I should stop. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. You’re not even my type.”
I roll my eyes, appalled that that’s the best counterargument he can come up with. “I’m pretty, which makes me everyone’s type. I’m also fun, educated, successful, and passionate about what I do, which is a bonus. Try again.”
He barks out a laugh. “If that comment doesn’t just about sum up why I could never fall for you, here’s one that is sure to put an end to this wacky plot. You don’t believe in God. Daphne knows I would never enter into a relationship with someone whose religious beliefs don’t align with mine.”
“I was in the room when Daph gave birth, remember? I don’t just believe in God, I fear Him.” I mentally pat myself on the back for that comeback. He’s quickly running out of reasons to negate the legitimacy of this plan. Even still, he starts to shake his head again. “I’ll go to church with you,” I spit out before I give it a second thought. “Occasionally,” I add, reconsidering. It would look suspicious if I just started going all the time, seeing as how I’ve never shown any interest. Besides, he attends the Saturday night services. I can’t have all my Saturday nights tied up for the sake of appearances. I love Daphne, but—
“I still don’t think it’ll work. My answer is—”
“No!” I hold up my hands, mimicking his earlier gesture. “Just think about it, okay?”
If I had the time, I’d stand here and work my magic until he couldn’t refuse me, but Daphne thinks I’m out running a quick errand. While I know she’s busy writing the next great American novel, I don’t want to risk the chance that she might notice I’ve been gone way too long.
“I have to go. You have my number. Tomorrow. Noon. We’ll meet for lunch. My treat—well, my treat if you say yes,” I tell him as I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder. “Remember, this is bigger than you and me. It’s for Daphne a
nd Trevor.”
I toss Ashton a wink, who has been watching us with amused interest, and then saunter my way out of the bar. I know Roman’s watching. Men always do.
Here’s hoping my ass sways him towards yes.
I watch her leave as I replay the highlights of our conversation. Her proposal was the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth. I’m still having a hard time believing that she wants me to be her fake boyfriend. It’s not that I’m amazed that she came up with such a ludicrous idea, it’s that she thought she could convince me to go along with it.
“What are you thinking?” asks Ashton, pulling me from my thoughts.
I jerk my gaze away from the door Logan just walked through and look at my friend. I almost forgot that he was here to witness all of that. “What are you thinking?”
“You’d be surprised,” he replies before taking a swig of beer.
“Try me,” I challenge him.
He nods as he swallows. “Remember a couple months back? We were playing ball with the guys and after the game, we had plans to meet up with the girls?”
“Sure,” I mutter, not entirely certain of when he’s talking about. It happens a lot, all of us going out after a game. The girls consist of Daphne—which often translates to Daphne and Logan—Trisha, Ryan’s girl, Grace, Harvey’s wife, and Willow, who works at the shop with the guys.
“Do you remember how Daphne called Trevor in the middle of the game?”
“Oh, yeah,” I recall. “She said she couldn’t come. Food poisoning.”
“Trevor told her he hoped she felt better and to let him know if she needed anything.”
