Page 10 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

“Was there ever anything between you?” He tries for a casual question, but his features tense every so slightly.

“Hmm, it depends on if you consider the bottle of tequila we shared and then the toilet bowl we both threw up in as anything. Sexually? No, we’re not compatible.”

Kit huffs out a quiet laugh. “I didn’t know if I needed to be jealous of him, but I’m okay now.” He finishes his pint and points at my drink. “You want another?”

“Yes, please, but ask Sam to put it on my tab. Actually, I’ll have a pint. Wait, I’ll go.” I rise to my feet and head off to the bar. “How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’ll charge it to him next time.”

“No, let me settle it. I’ll take it up with him next time I see him.”

“You sure? It’s just under forty quid.”

“Christ, how long has he been here? Never mind. We’ll have two more pints and add Monty’s onto it too.” I carry the two tall glasses back to the table. Kit stares at me as if I’ve grown a tail. “What?”

“You’ve just paid douchebag’s bill.”

“I have. It’s not fair on Sam that he’s a wanker who doesn’t pay.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to have to teach you how to stand up to Monty.” Kit shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips.

“You only need to be my boyfriend for one night, Kit. So calm yourself.”

He flinches, but the hurt expression that flits over his face is gone just as quickly. We settle down and talk more about ourselves, asking questions we would need to know about each other. It’s easy, comfortable, almost as if it were a date rather than a meeting based on a lie.

I check my phone. “I’d better go. It’s got later than I thought, and I have a few things to do at home. Thanks for the sandwich, Kit.” I grab my messenger bag and sling it over my shoulder so the strap crosses my body. I wave at Sam and walk outside. As I trudge down the street, I ponder everything that happened. I like Kit. And to be honest, I want more from him than a fake boyfriend for the reunion. He hasn’t offered that, though, has he? Don’t get too involved in the pretence, Ollie.

Feet pound down the pavement behind me, and I move to the side to dodge whoever is racing down the street. A hand lands on my shoulder and spins me around, and warm lips are pressed on mine in a hard and possessive kiss. I stumble back, but hands on my hips stop me from falling. Then the lips are gone, and I’m looking at a red-faced Kit. He wipes his forehead and grins. “See you soon, Ollie.” With a two-fingered salute, he walks away.

Fuck!

“I can’t believe you’re going to do it. You like him, Kit.” Adam sighs. “Why do this? What’s in it for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m getting to know someone I really like, and, y’know, it may turn into something more.” I lean back on the counter as Adam searches the fridge. “Why are you pretending you cook? You’re going to order something anyway.”

He straightens. “You’re right. I’ll order Chinese.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and places his order. “You could end up getting hurt.”

“I know that. I’m not stupid.” Damn him for saying out loud what I’ve been thinking all week long. “I’m going for a shower.” I stomp off before he can put even more of a dampener on my mood. By the time I’ve finished and put on some sweats and a T-shirt, the food has arrived. Adam moves on to another topic and fills me in on all his antics as a personal trainer.

By ten thirty, I stumble off to bed. I’ve got work tomorrow and will have to go through all this again with Jack. I check my phone to make sure my alarm is on. A message from Ollie has come in.

Ollie: Do not let Jack pester you tomorrow.

Me: I won’t. Adam has already done it.

Ollie: Check your Facebook. I’ve sent you a friend request.

Me: ?? ??

Smiling, I open the app, click Accept, and say hello.

Surprisingly, sleep comes quickly without any worries or doubts of the huge mistake I could be making.

Jack steps behind the counter to complete his sales and cash up the till. He’s annoyed that I won’t go into any details about my and Ollie’s conversation. But what is there to say? We agreed to go to the bloody gala as fake boyfriends. We’ve got between now and the end of November to know as much about each other as possible and to look like we’re happily in love. Or at least happy together.

“Do you know when you’re getting together again?” he asks as we leave the store.

“No, we haven’t organised anything. I expected it to be a Friday night arrangement. We only need to get a few basic questions and answers sorted. They don’t know how long we’ve been dating.”

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