Fake It 'Til You Break It

by Brandy, Meagan

  We rock this role play thing.

  The rest of the dinner is spent talking about all the fun and embarrassing things that happened over the weekend.

  An hour or two passes and then we’re driving home.

  My eyes keep sliding Nico’s way on the drive and finally he turns his head my way raising a brow like an ass.

  I laugh, glancing away right as we pull in front of my house.

  Krista hops out to give me a quick hug, whispering in my ear, “Details tomorrow. All of them.”

  “Shut up and go,” I whisper back, making her giggle.

  “Nic, take care of my girl, would you?”

  “I’ll take care of my girl, don’t worry.” He grabs my hand leading me toward my own house. “’Night, Krista.”

  I unlock the door as he waves bye, and then it’s just me and Nico.

  I lead him into the kitchen, pulling out two sodas and holding one up in offering.

  He nods, so I move toward the cabinets to take out some glasses.

  “Where’s your ma?” he asks.

  “Gone.” I pop back to the fridge, filling the cups with ice. “Where’s yours?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Your dad?” My eyes slide his way.

  He shakes his head, not willing to speak on it, not that I expected him to, but it was worth a shot.

  I open the can, applying a little too much pressure and the top pops up, the tip jamming into my thumb and leaving a small cut.

  “Shit,” I hiss, pulling my thumb in and shaking my hand.

  “What happened?” Nico walks closer.

  I turn on the sink, running it underneath the cold water. “The cap got me, but it looks like a clean little cut.”

  “Let me see it.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Now, Demi.” He doesn’t wait for me to show him but grips my wrist and drags my hand to his face. “Yeah, it’s not deep, a Band-Aid should do it.”

  I fight a smirk. “I told you it was fine, but since you insist on helping, get me one from the cabinet above the microwave?”

  He walks over, pulling it open.

  “The plastic container to the right, grab that,” I tell him.

  He does and starts digging through it, finding the perfect size for my finger. “You got some Neosporin or something?”

  I pull my thumb from the water and pat a paper towel against it. “I don’t know. In the drawer maybe? If not, I have another first aid kit in my car.”

  Nico pulls the drawer open and starts digging around, but suddenly stops.

  I shift on my feet when he stands there, unmoving a long moment before slowly looking over his shoulder at me, his body following after a moment.

  My eyes tighten, roaming his face before a flash of orange catches my attention and my stare flies to his hand and the small pill bottle held in it.

  I dart forward, attempting to snag it from him, but his hand wraps behind him and he stands to his full height, a blank expression masking his thoughts.

  “These yours?” he asks, even though I know he read the name printed across the label.

  “I don’t take them.”

  “Don’t lie,” he throws back, the small tablets knocking against the container as he shakes the bottle behind his back. “They’re half gone.”

  “I didn’t say I never took them, I said I don’t, as in not lately.”

  Nico doesn’t look away, and the longer we stand here the more guilt gnaws at me, the need to explain winning over.

  “My mom... she doesn’t accept mediocre.” I shrug. “That was how she made sure she never got it.”

  “Do you feel like you need them, to focus or any other reason?”

  “Did they help? Yes. Do I need them? No.”

  “Then don’t take them. You’re not a child who doesn’t understand what helps you and what doesn’t. Don’t let anyone control what you put in your body.” He brings the pill bottle around, grabs my hand and sets it inside. He leans against the counter. “Throw them away.”

  My head tugs back and then it hits me.

  Pills.

  The night he argued with his dad in the yard, he accused him of getting his mom addicted to pills.

  Is that why she’s asleep now?

  Is she always asleep?

  There’s an angry sense of helplessness slipping over him, one he can’t control or can’t hide. One that has me removing the lid off the container and dumping them into the sink. I wash them down with the soda I cut myself on and grab another, pop the top and pour.

  I turn to Nico, passing him a cup. “I haven’t taken them since finals last year,” I offer quietly. “It was never about addiction. It was appeasing my mother, which I guess is sort of what I was addicted to.”

  For what seems like a lifetime, he stares, but finally takes a small drink. His shoulders lower with his glass.

  There’s a shift in the air, and suddenly the tension in the room is an entirely different kind.

  I replay him and I in the water in my mind, and I’ve got a feeling he’s doing the same as his eyes darken before me, the tip of his tongue coming out to tease his bottom lip the slightest bit.

  I focus on my drink, his nearness so overwhelming that I lead us into a larger space, my living room.

  Tell me why I’m nervous?

  “Because your body is leading your mind.”

  My head snaps to Nico and he chuckles.

  “Yeah, you said that out loud.”

  I laugh anxiously. “I’m sorry I’m a mess. It’s been a day. I’m so sore from double practices, then this unintentional sharing session we’ve just had, and the whole my mom’s bleeding me dry thing...” I trail off, looking at him. “Thanks for not saying anything at dinner.”

  He eyes narrow in query. “Your friends don’t know?”

  “That my mom spends more than most people earn in a month in a week?” A dejected laugh escapes. “No, they don’t know. They know she’s all about her outings but...” I shrug.

  My friends don’t necessarily love my mom, but they don’t hate her either, and I’d like to keep it that way. Knowing she takes from me would piss them off and once you lose respect for someone it’s really hard to get it back.

  I shouldn’t care to preserve their feelings toward her, but I do it anyway.

  Nico looks around, taking in the picturesque living area that clearly goes unlived-in. “How often is she gone?”

  “There’s, what, typically thirty days in the month? So, twenty-two, twenty-five.”

  He frowns. “You’re alone more than not.”

  I turn, focusing on the bland images along the wall. “I don’t mind.”

  “Yeah you do.”

  That has me glancing over my shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

  “You spend most of your time outside,” he says, flicking the ugly tassels dangling from the edge of a couch pillow. “Bet it’s because you hate being in here by yourself.”

  Like you, you mean?

  Is he by himself as much as me?

  I shrug, trailing the length of the fireplace before I spin and give a roundabout answer. “I’m used to it.”

  “That’s shitty.”

  “Maybe.” I nod, moving us back into safer ground. “But I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, remember?”

  His chuckle is full of innuendo as he cocks his head, leaning on the edge of an armchair. “Yeah, Little D. I remember.”

  Okay, not safer ground!

  I quickly turn, flipping on the TV as an excuse to look away.

  Why do I like him here?

  I shouldn’t.

  Should I?

  The light shuffle of Nico’s feet should have been expected, he won’t accept my holding back. The hairs on the base of my neck stand as my was-steady hand begins to wobble against the remote.

  Am I seriously this pent up?

  Nico’s fingers wrap around mine and he gently takes it from me.

  He makes no other move, his brea
th purposefully cascading over the exposed skin on my shoulders, so I attempt to settle myself and spin to face him.

  It must be what he wanted, my attention fully and completely on him – my fake boyfriend I almost real kissed.

  He wastes no time, instantly stepping in until the heels of my feet meet the entertainment center.

  His hair falls into his eyes, blocking the smallest bit of his face from me.

  For some reason, I’m not at all okay with that.

  I pull my lips between my teeth, reaching up to brush it away, but my touch is too hesitant for his liking, so he helps apply some pressure, keeping his fingers on mine as he leads them to his neck, dragging them around to trail over his throat where he releases me, allowing my hand to fall to my side.

  “You’re my girl, right?” he rasps.

  “That’s what we agreed to...”

  His glare is quick and he pauses. “The answer is yes, Demi, and since the answer is yes, that means when you touch me, you mean it.”

  My pulse beats heavy in my throat and I think I nod.

  “Know what else it means?” He shuffles closer, one dark brow jacking up. “You can touch me anytime you want, however you want, and I won’t stop you.”

  I free my lips from between my teeth and his eyes darken.

  “Because of our arrangement?”

  Nico’s soft chuckle fans across my mouth and he steps back, tossing the remote to the couch. “No, D. I won’t stop you because I’m not a fool... or a saint.” He shrugs unapologetically.

  “Does this mean it’s the same for you? You can touch me whenever you want... how you want?” My chin lowers, but my eyes stay on his.

  He licks his full lips. “You tell me.”

  What’s it mean if the answer feels a lot like a ‘yes’?

  This is bad, right? I’m not prepared for Nico’s hands to have free rein of my body.

  Who am I kidding... there is no preparing for a guy like him.

  Fake feelings or not.

  The hint of his grin further proves he’s in my head more than he should be. “’Night, D. Keep these doors locked.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  His smirk is slow, and I laugh, pushing him away.

  I’m more than happy to end the night on a lighter note.

  He starts across the yard, and a question pops in my head.

  One I shouldn’t ask but can’t handle not knowing the answer to.

  “Hey, Neek!”

  His feet pause in the grass and he glances over his shoulder, nodding his chin.

  “Will you make me want it first?” I ask, not spelling out what ‘it’ could mean.

  Knowing him, there’s a long list of answers to be named.

  Nico’s brows jump, but a knowing look quickly replaces his surprise, and in true Nico fashion, he calls me out on my obvious physical response to all that is him.

  The corner of his mouth tips up, half his face blanketed by darkness. “As opposed to you, what, D, not wanting it?”

  And then he’s gone.

  But the heat in my abdomen isn’t.

  I’ve been lying in bed for over an hour, and sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.

  Straight up, I’m in fucking trouble.

  I’m not sure what I expected when I flipped the fuck out and threw this idea of faking us on her.

  Once it was out, there was no taking it back, and the second Hammons saw us together, going easy wasn’t an option.

  The part had to be played and played well.

  I knew people would believe it, that it wouldn’t take much effort, but what I didn’t anticipate was how easily she’d accept me as hers.

  Accept the lie.

  I was being real when I told Trent I think she likes this. I told him she was bored, but now I’m realizing it’s more than that.

  The girl’s not only bored, but lonely as hell and that’s fucked up.

  She’s a gorgeous, smart, talented – single – girl, with good friends and a lively personality.

  People don’t get it, how someone with popularity and looks and a gifted ability, loved by many and envied by more can stand before hundreds and feel completely fucking invisible.

  I get it.

  I was able to read her today with unmistakable, relatable precision.

  The starved look in her eyes, the need in her touch, the plea from her body.

  She wanted to feel something and decided quickly, I was it.

  Had Trent and Krista not interrupted, I’d have let her take what she wanted, giving twice as much in return.

  I’ve imagined what her body would feel like against mine more than I care to admit, how soft her thick, dancer’s thighs would be, how quick her heated breaths would come. How quick she would come.

  I groan, and before I realize it, I’m gripping my dick in my hand, squeezing in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

  I scoot up to my headboard, my head falling against it as I begin to stroke myself, the quiet pants from her mouth replaying in my ears. I slide my hand from base to tip, groaning lightly, remembering the greedy way she pulled me to her, and the strength of her legs locked around my body, begging for me to come closer.

  An unexpected shock wave rushes down my spine causing my knee to jolt, and I pump faster.

  A small flash has my head snapping toward my window in time to catch Demi having just turned off her patio light.

  I jump up, moving closer to the glass to see her better.

  It’s dark as fuck, nothing but the gleam of her white bikini helping me trail her as she lowers herself into her hot tub. The small underwater light kicks on with the jets, and the water starts splashing across her breasts in gentle waves.

  With one hand still on my dick, I squeeze, a deep frown marring my forehead as I decide if I should stop.

  It’s one thing to imagine, it’s another to watch her as I work myself.

  But then Little D’s head turns and tilts the slightest bit, now aimed right at the second floor of my house. At what she knows to be my bedroom.

  Adrenaline flares and I place my hand on the frame, leaning over slightly as her head shifts back and forth the littlest bit.

  Lookin’ for me, baby?

  Demi rests against the wall seat and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. I can’t be sure, but I’d swear her legs spread wider beneath the bubbles, the creaminess of her skin no longer centered in the water.

  My pulse jumps, my dick, still hard as a rock right there with it when her little hands disappear under the froths.

  Her head tilts, exposing her neck some, and fuck me, she keeps her eyes locked this way.

  She can’t see me, I know this for a fact. My house is pitch fucking black and the moon doesn’t shine against the backside of my place as it does hers.

  But damn, if it doesn’t stop her from trying, or maybe, if she’s as much like me as I’m learning, her imagination is doing just fucking fine.

  For now.

  My features pull, and it’s done.

  If I had any chance of stopping before, I don’t now.

  My grip tightens, my dick swelling even more, flexing in my palm.

  She must like a slow start as she’s calm and relaxed, her forearm hardly moving so I follow her lead in secret, with slow and measured movements, squeezing every few strokes to add some extra pressure.

  Demi shifts, both her feet coming up to plant on the concrete seat near her sides. Her legs are so damn long the new position has her knees completely out of the water, giving me a tiny glimpse of how fun her flexibility could be.

  When her other hand moves to grip her own neck, I fall forward, my arm now holding me up as I jerk harder, faster.

  My hips jolt forward, a deep groan leaving me as heat spreads through my veins.

  Her head falls all the way back and her lips part, her chest rising above the steam as she gasps into the air.

  I imagine the sounds escaping as her hand trails lower, slipping under the tiny white scrap of materi
al covering her breasts. She massages herself, her core lifting in the water as she fights for her release.

  Come on, baby.

  Demi’s legs stiffen, shooting down into the water as her chin falls to her chest, and I swear I can feel her fuckin’ trembling from here.

  My toes curl into the carpet and squeeze, my free hand flying down to catch the cum she unknowingly pulls from me, my shoulder knocking into the window.

  A shockwave shoots through me and my muscles clench tight before everything in me relaxes.

  I drop my head against the glass.

  I just got off with Demi Davenport, but she hasn’t the slightest fucking clue.

  And me? I have not an ounce of fucking guilt for it.

  None.

  She’s been straight smiles and happy sighs all day.

  Not that she’s ever overly bitchy, but her ‘good mornings’ and ‘hey, how’s it going’ are on overkill.

  “Okay, so I’ll take care of the definitions if you want to find what pages the diagrams are on? It’ll help save time when we have to reference back.” Demi tilts her head, looking over her notes.

  When I don’t respond, her eyes swing to mine.

  I know I look curious as fuck, which is confirmed when she frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  I got off with you last night and you have no idea and now you’re peppy as fuck and I can’t help but wonder—

  “Earth to Nico?” She laughs.

  Another obvious sign she’s not her typical self this morning. Normally, she’d roll her eyes at me.

  Girl’s smiling.

  “When’s the last time you had sex?”

  Her eyes shoot wide, quickly darting around the classroom before coming back to me. Her voice is low and squeaky when she asks, “What?”

  I drop my pencil on the tabletop, twisting in my seat to face her better. “You say you’re not a virgin.” I lean in, speaking lower, “So, when was the last time you fucked?”

  She studies me a moment, her green eyes slowly moving between mine. “Why?”

  When I don’t let up, she inhales deeply, offering a hesitant, “Awhile.”

  “How long is awhile to you, D?”

  “How long is it to you?” she challenges, her attempt to delay.

  “I haven’t had sex since the last time you watched it happen, and it feels like a fucking year’s passed. Especially now.”