Faking It_A Fake Girlfriend Romance Page 4

  That was the final straw. I had done nothing to receive such cruelty from someone I truly admired. Alex Rye was the asshole everyone made him out to be. I don’t know why I was the only one who couldn’t see through his tough guy persona. He was an ass who got ahead with his father’s money and connections. He was spoiled and entitled, and treated women as if they were disposable. I was shaking with rage by the time I finally stood up to leave.

  “At least finish the drink,” he droned.

  Without thinking, I picked up the glass and splashed the tangerine-colored liquid into his face. He sat in shock as the sickly sweet drink trickled down his face and onto his collar. I couldn’t look at him for another moment. I stormed out of the bar with my head held high. I strutted to my car, a scowl on my face.

  Then, when I was safely in my car, I let it all out. Tears ruined my perfect eye makeup and tracked down my cheeks, leaving black streaks in my flawless foundation. When I finally caught my breath, I started the car and quickly drove away. I started constructing a story to tell Carol about the night. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to tell her she was right, or play it off like the benign meeting I promised her it would be.

  6

  Rebecca

  I was still pretty disappointed in how things went with Alex, but I didn’t have time to mope around. Even though I wanted to turn in my assignment with awful comments about him, I kept it professional and did as I was instructed. Somehow, I managed to write a paper and complete a few online quizzes without thinking about how pissed off I was at Alex. I was deeply hurt in how he behaved, and rather embarrassed about how I acted. Thinking back, I could have exited with a little more class instead of acting like one of those awful women on those trashy reality shows.

  What I should have done was just left without another word. A curt smile and a swift exit would have made me the better person. Instead, I probably ruined an expensive suit. At the very least, I guess I could pay for his dry cleaning bill if it ever came into question.

  My mom called me for our weekly update. Usually, I was happy to speak with her, as it was frequently a welcome distraction from schoolwork. However, I worried that my interaction with Alex would spill out. I was too ashamed with the way I got tricked into thinking he cared about me as a student and future professional and how I reacted. I hadn’t even told Carol specifics of the meeting, except for the fact that I thought he was a bit of an ass, and we certainly wouldn’t be meeting in private in the future.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  “You sound tired,” she replied instantly.

  I laughed. She always seemed to know how I was feeling, even if she were miles away. “I’m okay. What’s new with you?”

  “A lot, actually,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

  “You’re dating?” I squawked. “Mom, since when?”

  “Just recently. You know, I’ve never really gone out of my way to meet men. But, I met a guy that is just so great to be around. He’s smart, funny, and my goodness, is he attractive! He looks like George Clooney! I’m not even kidding you.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. I loved seeing my mom happy. She was the best and deserved to be with someone she liked.

  “I probably should have asked you and your brother if that was okay,” she said with reservation in her voice.

  “Oh, no, not at all,” I sputtered. “You don’t have to ask your children for permission to live your life. I’m happy for you. I’m sure Max will be too.”

  My mother hadn’t really dated since my father died. That was over twenty years ago. I was just a toddler when he died, so I didn’t even remember him. But, my mom did her best to keep his memory alive for my brother and me.

  I kept a picture of my father and me near my bed. He was a handsome man, tall and muscular, but with a youthful face. Sandy brown hair pokes out from underneath a Yankees cap. He has me balanced on his knee, and stuffed rabbit in his other hand. I was a chubby toddler with a crop of dark hair on top of my head and a toothless smile on my face. I never really knew him, but when I look at it, I can feel his love.

  My father was just in the start of his career when he was killed in a train derailment. He spent so much time commuting from our home to the city, and I guess my mom worried constantly. Apparently, her worries were warranted, as one night, she waited by the phone for a call from him to say he was running late. Instead, she got a call from the police, to go to the station and identify his body.

  My brother remembers him—vaguely, but enough to make me envious. My dad was very excited about putting my brother in youth sports, and even bought him hockey skates and a stick at the age of three. I’ve seen the videos of my brother puttering around the ice, while my mother held me in her arms. I wish I could have known him for longer.

  My father did leave a lasting legacy. My mom told me about the work he did as a financial advisor, and later hedge fund manager. At the time, I didn’t know much about finance to understand what he did. But, as time went on, I did my own research about his career. Eventually, I decided that I wanted to do what he did. I studied hard in school, enrolled in NYU to get a degree in Finance, and planned on getting my Master’s degree so I could achieve my goal. In some ways, following in his footsteps allowed me to feel close to him. I only wanted him to be proud of me. My mom always tells me that he would be, but that’s what parents say.

  Along with his inspiration for my future career, he left my mom a life insurance settlement that allowed us to build a nice house in an upscale neighborhood. His earnings put us through private school, then through college. We were never rich kids, but we were financially secure. I told myself that I would make sure to do the same things for my future kids. I know my mom had to work hard to keep up the lifestyle, but careful planning and saving kept us afloat.

  I knew my mom was still broken up about his death years later. I’d catch her looking at old photographs and crying. The idea of her dating someone seemed weird to me, but that was because no one wanted to think of their parents as people with those kinds of needs. But, once I grew up and put the idea of my mom kissing another guy out of my head, I encouraged her to get back out there.

  She had casually dated a few men, but things never really developed from it. I didn’t know if it was from lack of options or if the memory of my dad lingered too close in her mind. I had never had a serious relationship, so I didn’t know what it was like to lose a life partner. I felt especially guilty after I left for college. She was in that house all alone. She had lots of friends in town, but I knew that it wasn’t enough to dull the sting of being home alone.

  “So, tell me about the mystery man,” I said. “I want to hear everything.”

  “Well, he used to be from Hazelwood. I didn’t know him very well back when you guys were kids, but I remember seeing him around. He has kids, too, but they’re a bit older. He’s probably about five years older than me, but you would never know. He’s pretty active, so he’s in good shape.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s retired now. I think he used to work in finance. You guys can talk about it when you meet him. His name is Winston. I really think you’re going to like him.”

  “I’m sure I will. If you like him, I’ll like him. So, are things serious between you two?”

  “Goodness, I don’t know. Maybe!”

  “Really?” I gushed. “How long have you been seeing each other?”

  “Oh, maybe about a month or so.”

  “Over a month!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I was worried about what you would think. I didn’t want to make any grand announcements if it was just going to fizzle out. But, after my friend set me up with him, we really hit it off. We’ve gone out every weekend since our first date, and we talk on the phone almost every night.”

  “Wow, Mom, that’s awesome,” I replied. “I’m really happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Sweetie. Hopefully we can
all get together soon. Enough about me—what are you up to this week? You sounded stressed when you answered.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. One of my professors gave me a hard time the other day and it’s got me rattled.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you want me to come over and have a talking to him? You know I used to do that when you guys were in grade school.”

  “I wish,” I said dryly. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just worried about getting an internship this summer and I was hoping he could help. That’s about it.”

  It wasn’t often that I lied to my mom, but it didn’t seem right to tell her the whole story. First of all, she wouldn’t like to hear that I went on a date with my professor. Second of all, she would be pissed that a guy in power would try to take advantage of me. Then, I would feel even more foolish for falling for it. She always told me that I needed to be more confident in myself, yet here I was, devastated that Alex only wanted to use me.

  “Graduation is just around the corner,” my mom said. “What do you want for a gift?”

  I groaned. “A good internship or work experience.”

  “I bet Winston knows someone who could help you. Why don’t I ask him the next time I see him?”

  “No, Mom,” I moaned. “I don’t want to ask favors from your new boyfriend. I haven’t even met the guy yet.”

  “Are you sure? He’s a very generous guy.”

  “Maybe we can talk when I meet him in person. I don’t want him sticking his neck out for someone he’s never met.”

  “Okay, okay. How about a nice dinner? I think your brother has a rotation to do that week, but I’d love to spend some time with you before you get busy again.”

  “That would be nice. When was the last time you were in the city?”

  My mom paused for a minute. I thought the phone call was cut off.

  “Last weekend,” she said sheepishly.

  “What? You came to the city and didn’t even think to call me?” I wasn’t mad, because I had been busy, but I was surprised.

  “It was a last minute surprise!” she said. “Winston took me shopping and we stayed at a hotel. It was really lovely, but there just wasn’t any time to meet up.”

  “It’s fine,” I laughed. “It sounds like you guys are very serious.”

  “Time will tell. Well, I better let you get back to your studies.”

  “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  When I hung up with my mom, I didn’t know how to feel. Part of me was thrilled to hear her so happy. The other part of me felt strange about lying to her about everything that was going on at school. I was usually pretty open with my mom, and now I was completely glossing over the biggest event in months. Even though I knew she would have good advice that would make me feel better, I still didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted to get done with school so I wouldn’t have to see Alex’s stupid, beautiful face again. I wanted to forget that he ever existed, but if I made it in the finance world, I knew he would pop back into my consciousness eventually.

  But, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to apologize to Alex for throwing a drink at him. He was an ass, but I was also pretty nasty. I hated when people were upset with me, and his imagined ire really weighed on me. I didn’t know what was appropriate for the situation. I would send him a gift, but he already had anything he could ever want. I would write him a card, but he would probably toss it. I could apologize in person, but I didn’t want anyone to overhear, nor did I really want to be alone with him again.

  I pushed my face into my pillow and let out a long and dramatic groan. I retracted anything I thought my past self would say about going on a date with Alex Rye. My younger self would beg me to stay in her lane.

  7

  Alex

  In order to get out of my funk, I called up a girl I met at a bar a few weekends ago. I was feeling sexually frustrated after being rebuffed by Rebecca. I needed a way to work out my frustration and tension. A quick hookup wouldn’t help me with my fundraiser debacle, but it would temporarily make me feel better.

  “Hey,” I said gruffly as the elevator doors opened and Natalie entered my apartment.

  “Hey,” she purred, strutting in, wearing tight leggings and a low-cut top. She flipped her shoes off and curled up next to me on the couch. “What happened to your shirt?”

  I loosened my tie and tossed it onto the ground. “It’s nothing—a spill.”

  “Why don’t you take that off?” she suggested, crawling toward me.

  I allowed her to unbutton my shirt, which promptly went on the floor beside my tie. Before long, we were half-dressed, rolling around on my couch. Natalie caressed my torso, arousing me. I stripped her pants off of her and positioned her on top of me. But, when I did, I smelled the lingering fruity cocktail on my chest. I thought about Rebecca walking out on me, and I deflated.

  Natalie got to work, trying to prepare me for sex, but no matter how hard I tried to focus on the task at hand, I couldn’t get hard for her. Natalie was beautiful, but something wasn’t quite right. I had never experienced dysfunction before, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  “Hold on,” I said, jumping up from the couch, my pants hanging around my knees. I shuffled toward the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

  I wasn’t proud of what I was doing in the bathroom, but it had to be done for the sake of the performance. I still wanted to find some relief in Natalie, so I leaned up against the door, thought about Rebecca, and went to town on myself. I simply wanted to sustain an erection long enough to get down to business, but I found myself getting carried away as I thought about Rebecca. I remembered the touch of her hand on my shoulder as she went to introduce herself in class. I imagined taking her right there in the classroom, hoisting her onto the desk at the front of the room. Or, I’d bend her over one of the student desks as she begged for me to give it to her.

  Without meaning to, I finished on my own. I cleaned up, tucked my throbbing dick into my pants and went back to the living room.

  “Is everything okay?” Natalie asked, still nude on my couch. She eyed the bulge in my pants.

  “Actually, it’s not,” I said warily. “I think it’s best if you went home.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her eyes big with worry.

  “No,” I replied. “I’m suddenly not feeling very good. It was nice of you to come over, though. I’ll give you a call another time,” I lied, fully planning on deleting her number from my phone the minute she left.

  Confused, she pulled on her clothes and walked to the elevator. I slipped her some money for cab fare and she disappeared into the night. When she was out of sight, I stormed to my bedroom and flopped down on my bed.

  Admittedly, I had come off a little too strong on her at the bar, misjudging her intentions. I wasn’t really used to trying too hard to seal a deal, and I got lazy. Usually, I could get a girl to do whatever I wanted if I simply bought her a drink and told her she was beautiful. I wasn’t used to putting in the hard work to woo a girl.

  Perhaps I misjudged the subject, too. While I had successfully courted students in the past, Rebecca must have gotten the wrong idea when I asked her to go out with me. Any girl with a lick of wherewithal would have known that professors don’t ask their students to go to bars unless they want something that goes beyond education. What was I supposed to do? When we got to talking after class, was I supposed to tell her that I found her cute and fun to talk with, so we should go on a date and discuss a future hookup? I thought I was doing the professional thing by removing any explicit language from the campus. Then, when we were a safe distance away from academia, I would make my intentions more clear.

  I could own up to my mistakes in this particular situation. I should have known better than to be subtle with someone naïve. But, at the same time, I had just met the girl.

  She didn’t have to pour her drink on me. It was embarrassing, having to pay my tab, dripping with booze. Everyone stared at me
as I walked from the bar. I was used to having people stare at me because they knew about my work and my success. I had never experienced people staring at me because someone made an ass out of me. I didn’t mind having the reputation of someone who got around. What I didn’t want, was the reputation that I was a jerk to women. When it was all said and done, girls could say whatever they wanted about me. But, I didn’t need anyone’s public display of rejection.

  What troubled me most was how hung up I was about this rejection. I wasn’t really used to being turned down, but I knew that if a girl ever said no to me, I would be annoyed, but not this upset about it. I also knew that I was left in a difficult spot, since I figured she’d be a lock for the event on Friday, but the drink dumping effectively turned me down. All of those factors aside, I still felt this weird sensation in the pit of my stomach when I thought about her.

  It wasn’t as if I had feelings for her. That would be stupid. I didn’t even know the girl. She was cute, but she wasn’t a supermodel that I just had to have. Maybe I was so rattled by her because she was the one who got away. I wanted her and she didn’t want me. That was all the explanation I could think of, anyway.

  I let Rebecca stew in my mind for the rest of the evening. I dreaded having to face her in class tomorrow, but I couldn’t show it. I wasn’t about to let her win this one.