Page 82 of The Pretender

I pat Sebastian’s leg and lean in, avoiding smelling that distinct smell of organic palm oil free soap he uses, but acts like he doesn’t know anything about. He knows he buys it because I spent a solid half hour bitching about how it was destroying the rainforests. “Sebastian and I just want to enjoy our new relationship.” Also known as the time we didn’t totally hate each other.

Tom nods. “Sure. Sure. I get that.” He writes something on his clipboard. When he looks up, he smiles, and it feels wrong. “But I can’t help but think that you guys aren’t being completely honest with me.”

Well, Tom, we aren’t. We’re liars.

* * *

“What’s the matter?”

His voice is muffled and raspy from sleep. His legs are thrown over the blankets and his shirt is off.

When I don’t answer, he calls out softly, “Vee?”

I tuck a wayward piece of hair behind my ear. Let’s be honest, there’s more than likely several wayward pieces. I’m not one of those women who can wake up with silky strands all in place.

“Valentina. You’re making me nervous. Are you here to kill me?”

His words are soft, but there’s an edge to them that finally makes me laugh. “Not tonight,” I tell him, climbing onto the bed and onto the other side where I slide under the covers.

Sebastian lays back down and I roll toward him, easing my arm onto his chest. “Can we just pretend not to pretend for a moment?”

I’m not going to spell it out for him. We’ve beennot pretendingfor most of the weekend. I know that makes him nervous since he doesn’t want to like me. He wants to keep that line drawn between us so that we never have to address our confusing past or our fake present.

I love him.

I always have. Well, not always, but love comes on in strange ways. Sometimes it’s those butterflies when they stare deep into your eyes and then there is my kind of love like when he spoiled your video and stole your chair, the butterflies flutter. The truth is, we love to hate each other.

But with all this, the only thing I’ve pretended is that I don’t love him.

His hand is warm as it intertwines with mine. “Agreed,” he answers, before rolling over and sliding me closer to his body.

This time we are face to face, no cameras, no barriers, and all I see is the broken boy who has always been the man everyone expected him to be. Sure, he took several wrong turns but, deep down, Sebastian is loyal to his friends and family.

He may think he was only a DNA donor to his family, but I see the way his family checks in on him. They love him and while they may have their own expectations and ideals of what he should be, he will always be Bash-hole to me. Strong willed, free-spirited, and full of life. He was meant for more than just being a donor, and one day, I hope he will see that too.

“What are you thinking?” he whispers softly. His breath isn’t even bad after having been asleep.

“That you’re a beautiful soul.”

It’s not as hard saying the words in the dark.

“Ugh.”

He tries to roll over, but I lock my legs around him, preventing him from leaving.

“Why do we fight?” I ask him.

I can feel him shrug into the mattress. “I don’t know, maybe because we’re bored.”

“Are you sure?” I don’t feel like I’m bored.

He sighs heavily. “Because it’s fun.”

I smile. It is fun.

“Because,” he adds out of nowhere, “you get feisty when you’re mad.”

“I’m half Latina. We’re always feisty.”

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