Resistance

by Cordelia Scott

  He’d been going to spend his life with her. Had spent two solid months scouting out engagement rings, only to propose and have her break down in tears that she’d been sleeping with other men.

  He’d not even been able to get back any money for the ring.

  “Yeah, me too.” Now when his so-called relationship with Jasmine dissolved after his father died, maybe they’d be off his back about moving on for a while, anyway. Maybe this arrangement would work out in more than one way.

  Seven

  Jasmine

  "So," Evie chimed down the cell Jasmine had on loudspeaker on her dressing table. "I can't believe I've not been in touch with you to push you for details sooner. How is he? A quick message saying hot and funny isn't enough to cover it. Is it weird? Being with someone you don't know? What are his family like? Super pushy? Are you going to fuck him? You need to tell me so I can relay it to Brad, as well. I know he’s just as curious even if he refuses to get girly excited over it."

  Jasmine ignored her for a second, rifling through her jewelry box for a statement necklace she knew was buried in their somewhere.

  "Jasmine," Evie whined. "You're killing me here. This is the only exciting thing that's happened all summer, and it's not even happening to me."

  "Oh, don't lie. Your family's month long camping trip was a hoot, I'm sure."

  "Ha, ha," she said, sarcastically. "Seriously, though, please just tell me all about it."

  Jasmine snatched the necklace and sat down in her desk chair, letting out a sigh of admission. "He's really, really nice."

  "Nice? Nice? Is that all you're going to give me?"

  "What do you want me to say? He's gorgeous. He's funny, we talk so easily. I like him."

  There was a low whistle from the other end of the line. "So you're definitely going to fuck him, is what you're saying."

  "No! I'm saying that I want to fuck him, there's a difference. I've lied to him about my entire life, fucking seems wrong."

  "Oh, please. You added a few years to your age. You're still an adult, that's all that really matters."

  "I'm not a complete bitch. Besides, he's paying me. It feels wrong to take his money and then have sex with him," Jasmine reasoned all of this out with Evie, but she knew that if Sebastian said he wanted to sleep with her, she'd get straight into his bed.

  It would be one night. No lies would be uncovered. Nothing bad would happen.

  Just to live out the fantasies of having him in her bed that she couldn't get rid of no matter how hard she tried.

  There was a car horn from outside her house, and Jasmine jumped, still fiddling with the clasp on her necklace. "Shit. Gotta go, but I hope that was enough to satisfy your curiosity."

  "It wasn't even slightly enough. You’d better ring me again the second you get in. Where are you going, again?"

  "The theater."

  Another low whistle came from the phone. "You've joined the upper echelons."

  "Oh, come on. I already play the harp. I'm as snobby as it gets."

  They both laughed, and Jasmine hung up, stuffing her cell into the small purse she carried and launching herself down the stairs, almost tripping over her too-high heels when she reached the bottom.

  Her parents weren't in to say goodbye to.

  Blake was driving tonight. Sebastian's parents needed to get there early to help his dad get into his seat before the masses came piling in. His body was beginning to deteriorate, and so he needed the extra help.

  She felt Sebastian's gaze on her legs and grinned up at him, knowingly. He flushed, and they all greeted each other.

  It was odd, not having a normal chat with Sebastian before we entered into the family setting. There was normally a joke about our sneaking around, laughing about the whole situation.

  Now it was just them. Boyfriend and girlfriend in front of his family. Nothing to ease them into it.

  Luckily there was no need: Sarah kept Jasmine talking the entire way, and Sebastian's amused smirk had her forcing down a laugh as Sarah probed every detail of her life she could think of.

  It would have been stressful, but she didn't ask things that Jasmine needed to lie about. It was more along the lines of her favorite every-thing-that-ever-existed.

  "I really don't eat that much Thai food to have a favorite," she admitted, as Sebastian pressed a hand to his mouth to cover a grin and clear his throat.

  "Have you ever seen The Great Gatsby before?" Blake asked, meeting her eyes in the rear-view mirror.

  "No. I've read the book and I've seen the film, but I've never seen a stage productive before."

  "We're in the same boat. I'm excited, though, it's one of my favorite books. Dad read it to me when I was younger."

  "And me," Sebastian chimed in. "I know he loves the story."

  "That's really cool."

  Inside the theater, Jasmine was, of course, sat next to Sebastian. She ended up on the end of the six of them, sat beside an old woman who was already squinting to see the stage, and there wasn't even anything on it yet.

  "I hope you're not really bored during this," Sebastian broke away from his chat with Blake, who was on his other side, to speak to her. They kept our voices low, and that meant he was close enough that his hot breath fanned against her neck. A shiver ran down her spine, and she hoped the desire wasn't too obvious in her gaze.

  "No, I really love doing stuff like this. Evie's always teasing me for being some kind of upper-class snob."

  Her parents had used to take her to concerts, the ballet, and the theater when she was younger, but when she'd gotten old enough to stay home alone at thirteen, they'd become the workaholics they were now.

  Jasmine had always thought they were bad for getting home at seven and talking about barely anything but work, but a few weeks into becoming a teenager, she realized how bad it really could be.

  That was when she'd sometimes gone to bed before they even got in from work.

  Sebastian laughed. "Well, I'm glad. You're probably more into it than I am, then. I've only been a couple of times, and most of them have been chaperoning school trips."

  "I highly doubt you're going to be chaperoning many trips to see Shakespeare plays when you're principal of your delinquent school," she teased.

  "That'll be my aim. I'll know I've made it when people actually bring back return slips to go to the theater."

  The lights dimmed, and they stopped talking.

  The play was captivating, and during the interval, Sebastian and Jasmine were practically speaking over each other to discuss the different actors, their parts, and the impressive staging.

  They'd created Gatsby's mansion with steel girders, lit up with a thousand lights and ominously beautiful.

  Jasmine could already feel the tears she was going to shed at the end of the play. She became too emotionally invested in fictional stories.

  It started up again, and she resisted the urge to lean her head against Sebastian as she watched. She wished he'd put his hand on her exposed thigh, not to be sexual, but just to be comfortable. Watching a play with her boyfriend.

  She'd been damn right when she told him the whole thing was a head fuck.

  Was it possible to fake-date someone gorgeous, funny and kind without falling for them?

  If only she hadn't lied about her age, and he hadn't clearly stated in their first meeting that he wasn't looking for a real girlfriend, it could have been the perfect love story.

  Despite the play going on, Jasmine found herself sinking into a bad mood.

  It had been a stupid idea, really. Sure, it was good money, but now she was hurting.

  It was impossible to reconcile the fact that Sebastian was just pretending when his touch sent heat flying through her, and just being in his presence had her grinning.

  She hadn't thought she was that interested in guys. She'd thought that the harp was all she needed.

  That money and practice were all that mattered until she got to college, and that was when she'd get back on
the dating train.

  Now she'd gone and thrown a spanner in her own works by spending so much time with this guy who she thought might be perfect for her.

  A heavy sigh left her mouth, and she resisted the urge to scrub at her eyes and mess her makeup up.

  It'd be over soon, and he'd sure as hell forget her, so she needed to do the same.

  To stop going home and thinking about him, stop imagining the life she was sure they could have together if Sebastian wasn't just faking every single interaction they had.

  He gave her a sideways glance at the sigh, and she just forced a smile, turning her attention back to the play and ignoring his inquisitive look.

  When Gatsby was shot, and Nick fell to his side, sobbing, Jasmine felt sure she saw real tears glistening on his face in the spotlight.

  Her own tears matched them, and her chest burned. She tried to swipe them away quickly, but more kept coming.

  God, she was embarrassing.

  She kept wiping the tears, making sure she never touched her eyelashes and her mascara didn't run.

  Eventually they stopped, but only after the actors had come out to bow, and all the clapping and excitement in the room had set her off again.

  Sebastian was chuckling at her, and it made her smile, even though she didn't want to.

  And then it made her cry more because his laugh probably wasn't even real.

  When they were walking out, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her through the crowds towards the exit. She looked up at him. "I didn't smudge my makeup too badly, did I?"

  "You still look perfect." His cheeks tinted pink, but he didn't correct himself.

  Jasmine's body flushed with heat, too, and she continued to lie to herself that he was faking it.

  Even if she believed that he meant it, the fact she'd lied about her age meant nothing would ever happen between them, anyway.

  One fuck, at most.

  They waited for his family just down the street a bit from the entrance. Sarah and Sebastian's mom, Julia, stood with them. Blake was helping his dad out of the theater. He was waiting until last, because of the extra help he needed.

  Despite the summer heat, Jasmine still shivered in her tiny dress, and Sebastian stood behind her, encasing her in his arms. His chin rested on her head, and they got fawning gazes from the two women in his family.

  It was so easy to forget it was fake when this happened. She was cocooned in a little shell of false-reality, that the arms around her were there because he cared and loved her, not because he was paying her to be here. The desire she felt with him pressed completely against her back definitely wasn't fake.

  The trio gushed about the play, but Jasmine kept silent, reveling in her position, and fighting down the lump in her throat.

  She couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged.

  The two men appeared not that long after, and Blake sent a look in Sebastian's direction that almost looked like pride. Jasmine had no idea how he was going to break it to his family that they'd broken up just after his dad's death. She already felt like she'd been accepted into the fold, like they knew her, and cared about her.

  She could already tell, after three meetings, that she was going to miss them.

  In the car, she stared out of the window and watched the scenery go by in the darkness. Only a few more outings left. She could survive them.

  Then the car pulled up at her house, and she knew what was coming.

  She turned to Sebastian, and his gaze flicked to her lips. That was how lovers said goodbye to one another after a nice night at the theater. They kissed.

  Jasmine stalled, undoing her seat belt and rifling through her back to make sure that she had everything. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, voice thick.

  “No problem,” Blake said from the front seat.

  And then there were no more excuses. She and Sebastian leaned forward, and their lips met. It was a short kiss, just a peck, really, but it sent sparks flying through her. It was just a tease of what could really happen if they let themselves loose.

  She pulled back, breathing heavier than it should have been, and her brow furrowed.

  “See you soon,” she said, leaving the car and trying to catch herself.

  All a lie, she reminded herself. All a lie.

  She didn’t look back over her shoulder to see whether Sebastian was following her with his eyes, but shut the front door to her house and held in a sigh.

  “Jasmine?” her mom’s voice called from further in the house. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me,” she replied, kicking off her shoes and walking through the house to answer the summons. Her parents were sat at the dining room table. Her dad was cooking. Jasmine had eaten some instant ramen for dinner in her rush to get ready for the theater after finishing a late shift at the café, so she hadn’t made any leftovers for them. “How was work?”

  “Oh, you know, work.” He smiled over his shoulder and didn’t seem to register the resentment that Jasmine felt whenever she was in their presence. “Where have you been?”

  “To the theater.”

  “With who?”

  “A friend.”

  Her mom leaned forwards and raised her eyebrows. “A friend?”

  “Yes, a friend.” Jasmine tapped her foot. She was exhausted by this point. Too much emotional strain had been gone through tonight, and topping it off with her parents pretending to care about her well-being was too much. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” She wouldn’t see them in the morning, she knew, but it was the politest thing to say.

  “Okay, hon. See you then.”

  In bed, Jasmine curled up and tried desperately to banish thoughts of Sebastian from her mind.

  All a lie.

  Eight

  Sebastian

  Sebastian watched her fingers glide over the instrument, and found himself getting uncomfortably aroused. He'd thought her face would be screwed up with concentration, but it was the calmest he'd ever seen her. Jasmine watched her fingers, too, mouth set in a peaceful smile as the melody filled the room.

  It was their last meeting together that he had scheduled.

  This one was an extra scheduling: he'd thought the meal they went out for last night would be the last time he'd see Jasmine, but here she was, sat in his parents' lounge, making him hard with her playing.

  His dad wasn't as bad as he'd thought yet. He was still walking around their bungalow without issue. He sat now in his armchair with his eyes shut, a smile on his face. Everyone else watched her, transfixed.

  Sebastian was sure this wasn't turning anyone else on, though. He wasn't even sure why this had such an effect on him: he'd seen beautiful women playing instruments before. But he knew Jasmine, knew that playing meant everything to her. Knew that he already wanted to fuck her, but seeing her pouring her heart and soul into something, for his family, only made her more attractive.

  She'd been playing for about twenty minutes, and he would have felt guilty, but he could tell she was enjoying herself.

  The piece came to its crescendo, and her hands fell from the instrument. A round of applause responded, and her cheeks turned pink. "Thank you," she beamed, doing a mock bow. "I hope you enjoyed it."

  "It was really beautiful," Sarah gushed. "You're amazing!"

  Her cheeks went redder. "Thank you."

  Jasmine began putting her instrument back into its case, and he offered his help, but she assured him she'd done it a thousand times. Then she took a seat next to him on the couch, and they were so squashed up that their sides pressed completely against each other.

  Sebastian took a measured breath.

  Fuck, he wanted her. So badly.

  He'd already made his decision long before they found themselves in the driveway, having loaded the instrument into his trunk and now just waiting to get into the car.

  She was leaning against the passenger door, waiting for him to unlock it, but he didn't. He came up and stood opposite
her, so close that their breath's mingled.

  Jasmine looked up, eyes wide, pupil's dilated.

  "Will you come home with me?" he asked. "Just for tonight?" He had to tag it on, because she needed to know what she was getting into. This was one night, to take out all the sexual frustration he knew they'd been feeling the past three weeks, but he wasn't ready for a relationship.

  This wouldn't be anything more than a night.

  She reached out and took his shirt in her hands, dragging him forward, until they were completely against each other. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a not-so-chaste kiss to his lips.

  He responded in kind, reveling in the fact he no longer had to hold himself back. They kissed, open-mouthed, with heat pooling in his belly and his cock so hard it was painful until both ran out of breath.

  She pulled back, just slightly, and bit her lip. "Yes, I'll come back with you for the night."

  Nine

  Jasmine

  He'd made it clear: just one night. The lies didn't matter because this wasn't about trust, and it wasn't about a relationship. It was about sex, about the way they burned together. About how badly they needed to fuck and get over it.

  The drive to his apartment wasn't far, and they rode in silence, both consumed by the thoughts of what they were driving into.

  Jasmine's body was flushed, and she rubbed her knees together, tempted to tell him to just pull over and that they could fuck in the back seat.

  She'd never felt like she needed someone more than this.

  A thread of nerves was sitting with her, too, though. It was years since she'd done this. Not since her ex-boyfriend when she was fifteen, and she doubted that was good on either of their parts. They'd been too young, neither had any idea what they were doing.

  And now she was driving into the arms of someone she really wanted, she hoped she didn't disappoint him.

  At the apartment, they took the elevator, giving each other a smoldering sideways glance as they considered pushing each other against the cold metal walls.