Page 5 of Pretend You're Mine

It was a lie but I didn't plan to make her more uncomfortable than she was. It wasn't her fault that things had turned out this way for me.

"Alright. Thank you."

As she walked away, I took in her tense shoulders. I slid out of my seat and walked close to the counters—not close enough to be mistaken as a customer—and closed my eyes while breathing in deeply.

I took a step away from the counter where fat, fluffy pastries glistened temptingly behind glass windows, as any self-respecting individual would do. I was too broke to afford coffee and there was no point loitering like a destitute human, even though the Lord knew that I was just one meal away from being categorized as one.

The soup kitchen wouldn’t open for another hour. I sighed inwardly. Waiting in line at the soup kitchen with other homeless folks was disconcerting. The thought of bumping into anyone I knew on my way out or having to listen to drearysermons about the eternal love of a father that did not give a fuck about me would worsen my already bruised ego.

I sighed again, this time physically. I needed to leave the coffee shop and put my disastrous interview behind me. I forced my eyes open and scanned the room. It was half empty with customers coming in trickles. At the table closest to where I stood, two blonde girls were chatting animatedly, and gesticulating with their hands. Another table had a teen boy that was completely plugged into his laptop: headphones on, eyes fixed on the screen, and fingers dancing across the keyboard. It was clear that life was going on for everyone else even though I seemed to be at a standstill.

My eyes darted in the direction of the door. I took my first step towards the exit and then the door opened. The tiny bell above it jingled, announcing his entrance. I stilled at the noise, freezing at the burst of cold air rushing in. I didn’t dare blink as I made eye contact with him.

Judging from his appearance, I made him out to be in his mid-twenties, around the same age as me. But that was where the comparison ended. In terms of class and success, we were worlds apart. It was probably vain to compare a stranger whose life and struggles I knew nothing about to myself, but then the differences were visible for anyone to see. A hot tide of embarrassment washed over me.

He took off his black fedora hat, showing off his espresso-brown hair styled in a neat, curly quiff that looked great on him. His hands, covered by chic black leather gloves, rubbed against each other for warmth just before he dug them into his expensive dark wool overcoat. I swallowed, thinking of how warm those gloves could have gotten me. They probably cost as much as the deposit for an apartment.

The guy's entire 'fit screamed sophistication and wealth I could only dream of.

Damn.

My gaze fell upon his amber eyes. I didn’t realize I'd been staring but even now that I was caught in the act, I still found it hard to tear my eyes off him. We observed each other from across the room. The handsome stranger stared at me for a second longer and then his eyes lit up in a smile, open and inviting. I couldn’t help but return the sentiment, forcing a cocky smile on my face.

CHAPTER 4

AVERY

Inhaling a breath to regain my composure after speaking to my mother, I’d reached out to push the door to the coffee shop open. A warm rush of air had hit me as I stepped in, jerking me out of my muddled thoughts. When I raised my eyes, a tingle ran down my spine as I took in the side profile of the six-foot-plus hunk of a man at the counter.

I'd done this dance before. It was just a different day and a different dude but I couldn’t help staring. Dressed in dark pants and a checkered button-down shirt that stretched across his wide chest, he was the epitome of handsome. No, beautiful, almost pretty. Even from where I stood, my eyes lingered on him, captivated by the disciplined strength in his posture. The subtle lines etched on his face spoke of battles fought, and despite the absence of a uniform, this man carried the unmistakable aura of someone with a military background.

It was in the way he walked, no, glided his lithe body around as he moved to a different section of the cafe. His gaze held a watchful initensity, a reminder of someone accustomed to vigilance. I couldn't shake the feeling that beneath this man's exterior lay a complex mosaic of experiences.

I watched him look longingly at the display of breakfast foods without making a move to get anything. I could relate to that look. Croissants and strawberry rolls were my weakness too and it didn’t seem like my love-and-hate relationship with carbs was ending anytime soon, especially with the way I frequented this coffee shop. I snorted to myself.

It wasn’t like I could survive without my daily dose. The man's attention was on me. His steel-gray eyes, like gunmetal, took a journey, taking in every inch of me. I tried to keep my stomach... shit, I tried to keep everything tight. Sure, I didn't date anyone seriously, but hey, I was still human.

Then he hit me with hissmile. Now that… that was a smile. A warm smile that belied his military posture.

My stomach dipped. It was rare to come across a man that hit all of my weak points right off the bat. He had the height, the build, the confidence, and those damn eyes... eyes that seemed to see right through me.

Different emotions flickered across his face as he took me in. I resisted the strong urge to preen a little even though I hardly had the time to wade into the dating pool. The weight of responsibilities didn’t stop me from being as vain as the next human. Instead of all the non-verbal cues I could have given, I simply held his stare, waiting for the appraisal to be done with.

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and the edge of his mouth slid upwards as he greeted me with a captivating smile, painting a ray of sunshine on his face. I could feel my knees buckle. All the thoughts of my mother and my family problems dispersed into thin air. I made my way over to introduce myself.

“Hi, I’m Avery Branson.”

The intensity of those eyes and the warm smile of an everlasting hearth directed at me got more intense by the second. My palms were beginning to sweat.

“I’m Creed. Nice to meet you, man.” He didn’t offer his last name and I let it pass, refusing to push. Seconds of uncomfortable silence stretched.

I shook my head to clear it. I had to say something to fill in the silence. Before I could think of the right words, Creed's lips were already moving.

“Where are you from?”

“Michigan. How about you?"

"Born and bred right here in Chicago."

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