by Lara Swann
“Unless…” He continues, his tone changing. “If you wanted to sneak away somewhere and continue where we left off last night…I’d be willing to forgo the play.”
I glance up at him again, completely bemused at how he can make such a seductive, sultry tone can come out of a stone-cold face. But turned on at the thought anyway. A small thrill runs through me, even though I know we can’t.
We really shouldn’t…
“If only that was actually a good idea.” I shake my head reluctantly. “But giving up on Hamlet…I’ll remember that one. I must really mean something to you.”
I say it as a joke, but the instant it’s out there, I recognize it for what it is and get pissed at myself.
I’m doing that silly girly thing I’ve always despised. Throwing out a comment to get him to agree, and make me feel like…something. I’m not sure exactly what I’m looking for.
What do I want to mean to him, anyway?
“You’ve always meant something to me, Caz.” He throws an arm over my shoulder, and neatly sidesteps it anyway.
Of course I’ve always meant something to him. We’re friends.
I try not to sigh at my mixed up feelings, and look around again.
He notices my concern and withdraws his arm. “Want to storm away from me then?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I say, reminded for the umpteenth time that he actually knows what he’s doing.
I take a breath, give him one last hidden smile, and then push away from him.
“Fine, then.” I say loudly, and walk off towards the sun lounger at one end of the pool.
I feel his eyes on my back the whole time. I’m pretty sure he’s scowling - that would fit - but that’s not what I feel at all.
Instead, it’s the kind of gaze that makes me feel like I’m naked all over again, hot and passionate and panting under him.
I try to shake off the feeling, but it persists throughout the morning, and not even my book can distract me from it.
I bet he’s having better luck with Hamlet.
I’m pretty sure he prefers that play to most of the women he’s been with.
You included?
I tell my mind to shut up, but lying in the sun with my eyes closed, there’s nowhere else for it to go.
I’m missing his hands on me. The casual intimacy we’ve had this whole week. The way he’d tilt my head up and kiss me. Tuck my hair behind my ear. Pull me to him.
And it’s only been half a day of distance.
I know I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t help it. Maybe it’s just the hangover from lust and hormones and crazy sex last night.
I’m almost glad when the barbecue starts going and we all gravitate towards lunch, just because Josh and I start talking again.
Especially since we make a point of sniping at each other. Something I hadn’t realized just how much fun we could have with.
It feels just like our usual banter, except…to extremes. No holds barred comments, with a few dirty looks thrown in.
And it’s ridiculous enough that it’s obviously fake, too. I don’t have to wonder whether maybe he means any of it, as half the shit he’s saying he’s making up on the spot. I am too. Inventing lies and fake stories about each other on the fly.
We should’ve done this from the beginning.
If only for all the banter that will come when we talk about it later, too.
I actually start relaxing after the tense morning, feeling better about the whole thing. Somehow, it bothers me a whole lot less than when he’s pissing off my family. I know that was the deal, that was what I wanted. And hell, it’s been fun seeing Mom and Beth’s outrage at times. But…whenever it turns to Maria or Mark…I start getting confused.
I end up wanting to jump in and defend him, to let them know that he’s not really a complete asshole, or feeling guilty about the whole deception.
By the time we get to the traditional family soccer game, I can tell we’ve irritated the hell out of everyone just with the arguing, and I’m getting more than a few looks. But I just take it as a sign that it’s working. And just in time, too.
I have no idea what a professional director would think of this show, but it seems to have convinced my family.
I haven’t had anyone question whether we’re actually a couple. And with the way things are going right now, no one will question the magnitude of our break up, or my desire to abandon guys for a good long time.
I manage to avoid actually playing in the soccer game - but not quite watching it. Which mostly involves wincing as Josh takes his well-documented competitive streak to another level entirely.
At least he’s not actually body tackling anybody, I guess. And he keeps it remarkably kid-friendly too. Despite all his jackass behavior, he’s been careful not to upset Lucas or Ellie. But…even so…the trash talk he comes up with is creative as fuck.
Halfway through the game, he’s running right alongside Mark, the ball weaving between them and vying to score past Mark’s keen defense. He feints, yelling and taunting my brother, and Mark lunges after him - then trips, falling and cursing loudly. Josh swings around almost immediately, the ball forgotten as he reaches to help Mark up. I can hear his concerned query from here, and even I’m surprised at the complete u-turn in his attitude.
Mark gives him a confused look, but tests his ankle anyway, wincing, and then accepts Josh’s help over to me.
“Can you look at this for me, Cassie?” Mark asks as he slumps down onto the chair beside me.
Josh gives him a small wave, and then runs back to the game, his taunts and insults resuming as if nothing had happened.
“You know, identifying a twisted ankle doesn’t really require a medical degree.” I say, but feel it for him anyway.
“Then why’re you getting one?” He grouses.
I grin at him, before confirming. “Yep, definitely a twisted ankle. You should rest it. And it’ll probably be fine in…ohh…half an hour, maybe.”
“Thanks, darling.” He matches my sardonic tone, then turns back to watch the rather inept game.
“I would’ve saved that.” Mark adds a moment later, as we watch Josh knock the ball into the net for the third time.
“Mmhmm.” I answer, non-committal. “I’m not sure I signed up for your commentary.”
Josh does an unasked for victory lap, and I try not to laugh at the way it irritates everyone else.
“You know, I really can’t work him out.” Mark says eventually, and I wonder whether I should have voted for the soccer commentary after all.
“Oh?” I say, trying not to encourage him.
“Yeah, sometimes he seems like two different people.” Mark sighs, then puts his arm around me. “And however much you like him, Cassie, even you can’t deny he’s been an insufferable ass today.”
“Yeah, I know.” I shrug.
We’ve spent the whole day arguing. It doesn’t hurt to act like I’m annoyed with him.
Even if it’s so hard not to jump on Mark’s two different people comment.
“I’m sorry things are difficult for you at the moment, Cassie.” He continues after a while, squeezing my shoulder. “And maybe it’s to be expected…introducing someone to your whole family is never easy. Particularly this one. But…you know I’m always here for you, right? Whatever happens.”
I feel another pang of guilt as I nod, not wanting to say anything. I shift closer to him, enjoying the weight of his arm, but inexplicably missing having Josh’s around my shoulder instead.
I hope they never find out that it’s all been a lie.
I wonder whether it’s gone too far.
I try to remember that it’s my Mom’s fault - it’s because she goes too far, with everything, and that’s how this whole thing started.
But it’s hard right now.
And I don’t know what to make of the way Mark is trying to justify Josh’s outrageous behavior, either. Is it just to support me, or does he actually like him?
Maybe his attitude hasn’t been as effective as I thought.
“Oh!” I suddenly remember something. “You were saying something, yesterday - you wanted to tell me something. Before we got interrupted by…well, everything.”
Now it’s Mark’s turn to look uncomfortable, and he takes his arm back to give me a sideways glance.
“Ah, well…I don’t know. I’m not exactly sure…” He hesitates.
“Just tell me, Mark.” I nudge his shoulder. “We’ve always been able to talk about shit.”
Or at least, until this week.
He pauses a moment, glances at where Josh looks like he might be about to come to blows with Neil, and then finally shrugs.
“I just wanted you to know…I know things haven’t necessarily been going well, with Josh, all week. And, well, I saw him sidling up to that friend of Beth’s - Nikki - at her party. I had no idea where you were, but I saw the way they were…well, you know.” He looks completely awkward. “I just wanted to tell you, yesterday, because you seemed so sure Josh was a good guy and…it could be nothing, of course, but I thought you should at least know.”
I think he says some other things too. I’m not sure. I can’t tell.
My vision feels like it’s narrowing to a single point in front of me, as I stare off into the distance and chills spread through me.
Nikki. That was her name.
I have no idea where she’s fucked off to today, but I know exactly who Mark is talking about.
Pretty. A silly, giggly girl with dark, flowing brown hair and a perfectly shaped hourglass figure.
Exactly Josh’s type.
That would explain the way she was acting around him, vying for his attention.
Fuck it. Fuck him.
It’s not that I care if he wants to go fuck another girl, or whatever.
That’s what Josh does, after all. New girls, new fuck buddies, new relationships, every day of the week.
And we’re not actually together. I don’t have any claim on him. This isn’t real - he’s only my fake boyfriend.
But he shouldn’t be fucking doing it here.
While he’s pretending to be my boyfriend. While we’re trying to keep up this act for my family. While he’s sleeping in my fucking bed.
Yes, that’s what I’m furious about.
That’s why I’m seeing red right now, and something deep inside me feels torn apart, and my pulse is pounding through my me whole body.
Fuck. Him.
“…Cassie?”
It takes me a moment to realize Mark is looking at me, concerned, and I try to rein in the surging emotions enough to shake my head.
“No, I’m fine. It’s okay…” I give him a very forced smile, and know that he picks up on it.
But that’s okay too. Because that’s part of the act Josh and I are playing.
We’ve been having pretend arguments all day.
But when he’s done with that stupid game…
Then I’ll show him a real one.
Chapter Fourteen
Josh
We win.
Of course we do.
I crow about it for a good five minutes, and then turn to meet Cassie to the side of the makeshift ‘pitch’.
“I won.” I announce, making my voice as smug as possible and deliberately ignoring the fact it was a team game.
I smirk and wait for her to fire back with an insult of some kind. It’s been unexpectedly fun to spar with her like this today. The sort of thing that, if we weren’t trying to make it antagonistic, would easily have led to other forms of passion.
And maybe they still will tonight.
I eye the love bite on her neck, feeling the same thrill I have all day at the idea that I put it there. Marked her. Owned and possessed her, if only for a few brief hours.
But when I meet her eyes, the heat we’ve been playing with all day is gone.
She’s cold as fuck.
“What the fuck have you been playing at, Josh?!” She hisses at me, and she’s even attempting to keep it quiet.
I frown.
What’s she doing now?
Cassie isn’t usually the one to start some new thread in our act.
“Soccer?” I suggest innocently enough, having nowhere else to go with this and knowing it’s sure to piss her off.
It always does when I say shit like that for fun.
Her face turns red, and I see her fists clench by her side. Damn, she’s really getting into this.
“Fuck you, bastard.” She curses me, and now I’m actually starting to get annoyed.
“Okay, what are you actually talking about?” I fold my arms across my chest, bored of the tirade that’s giving me no clues where to take it.
“The girl. Nikki. How the hell did you think that was okay?!” She grinds it out, and a stab of unease shoots through me.
I glance around and see we’ve attracted a bit of attention, even if she is keeping her voice down.
I’m supposed to pretend…what? That I’ve been fooling around with someone else?
I don’t like the idea of that. Even if it’s fake.
And I’m more than a little pissed that she thinks she can just shit on my integrity for her own gain, just to give her family more reasons to hate me.
“What? Nothing to say?” She doesn’t give me a chance to say any of that, and her voice is getting louder. “I know you do whatever the hell you want, Josh, and fuck knows it’s not like you’re actually committed to me. None of this is real. But there’s a time. And a place. And could you not fucking keep it in your pants for One. Fucking. Week.”
She’s right up against me now, vibrating with anger, and poking my chest with every point she makes.
I’m not even stopping her.
I’m just staring.
She’s talking about our fake relationship. Openly.
Oh fucking shit.
This is real.
She actually thinks…
“What—no.” I try to say. “I haven’t—”
But I’m already miles behind in this argument, and I feel I’m grasping at straws trying to catch up.
“Oh, fuck you, Josh. You were supposed to be here to help me. To support me. Not fucking get yourself laid with one of Beth’s skeezy friends!” She’s far too loud now.
And I have no idea what she’s going to say next. What she might give away.
I almost don’t care. What she thinks of me right now is tearing me apart far more than the idea that we might give away this stupid act.
But I am here to help her. And support her.
So I’m not going to let her wreck it.
Even if I can only think of one way to get this damn thing through her head.
“I didn’t fucking fuck that girl!” I yell, already committed to letting everyone hear me.
The force of it stuns her enough to shut her up for a moment, and I take that opening, hoping like hell she gets the right message here.
“But of course you would think that, Cassie. God damn it, everything always has to be about you, doesn’t it?” I practically snarl it, my tone becoming contemptuous and dismissive. Talking to her in a way I never have. Hoping she gets it. “Supporting you. Helping you. Don’t you know I have my own fucking life to worry about too, girl?”
She’s recoiling now, confusion clouding some of her anger as I don’t let up.
“But no. You insist I come to this shitty family gathering, to celebrate your shitty sister getting engaged to some bastard I’ve never met, and do you even know all the auditions I missed! I could’ve been famous by now, you stupid bitch. And here you are, ungrateful as ever, accusing me of fucking some brain-dead girl I never looked twice at. Well, maybe I should!”
Cassie isn’t even arguing back, she’s just staring at me with utter horror, her eyes wide and shock written all over her face.
Adrenaline is surging through me, and I wonder whether I’ve gone too far with all of this, but fuck it, she wanted a performance from me
.
She wanted this to be totally devastating. Something her family would understand she’d need a fucking long time to recover from.
But she’s not meant to just stand there and take it.
Well, fuck it. I’m committed.
“It’d be a damn sight better than sticking here with you.” I add, my voice lowering as it turns harsh and I make it really fucking obvious that we’re doing the break-up now, just in case she hasn’t caught on. “You know what - I’m done with this whole fucking shit-show. It’s over, Cassie.”
I wait one split-second for a reaction, and when nothing but shell-shocked silence greets me, I turn on my heel.
I’d wanted something from her - wanted some indication we were in this together - but if she’s not up to it, I can finish it alone.
“You…you’re just going to leave?!” It comes just as I’m about to walk off, and relief floods through me.
Finally. She gets it.
I turn back derisively. “Well, there’s obviously nothing here for me, is there?”
“You fucking bastard.” She says, her face twisted up with some emotion even I can’t identify. “After everything…you’re just going to walk away. Leave me here - like it all meant nothing to you. What, was it all a lie, asshole?!”
She hiccups, a sob ripping through her, and it only propels her on. I face her down, but secretly I’m impressed. I didn’t know Cassie could give a performance like this.
“You’re a fucking actor, Josh, a fucking good one. You take someone in, make them feel you care, make them think that what you feel might actually be real - but it’s not, is it? It never fucking is. None of this has been real to you at all, has it?! As fake as any other stupid fucking act in your life, and now…now you’re just going to go. Like you never cared at all—”
A flicker of unease shoots through me.
It’s clever. But it hits way too close to home. Too close to what we were actually doing.
It’s got that ring of truth that makes it work, but still…
“You know another word for an actor, Josh? A fucking liar. How long have you been lying to me, huh? Just to get—to get whatever the fuck you want—to get laid…is that it, huh?”
She’s angry. And upset. Her voice is ragged with it, and even though it’s not real…it might be breaking my heart anyway.
