Page 61 of The Fake Dating Plan

“It’s very inspiring.”

“Don’t you want to sit?” I turned and saw him already planted firmly down on the edge of the blanket. I went to him and sat on the other end. I took in the picnic food. Most of it was cheese, five types at least, wine, crackers, cold meats and caviar.

“I would love to sketch here sometime,” I said. He stared at me without responding. He looked as if he was analyzing me, and giving me that feeling of having something on your face. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “What?”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“How can I not, it’s beautiful?”

“I hope you’ll like the wine as much as this place.” He handed me a wine glass filled with burgundy liquid. It tasted sweet with a little bitterness. It was delicious and heady all in one. A few more sips and chatting with him, and suddenly I was transported to a time when he would spring surprises like this on me. Back when we were young and in love without a care in the world. He loved spoiling me and I enjoyed it. It was difficult for me to focus on the core fact of our relationship. That it wasn’t real but made up. Nothing about it, about us, would revert to what it used to be, and yet, I could help but dare to dream.

“When you do stuff like this,” I said after a while of pondering back and forth whether I should say anything, “it makes it feel real and not made up.”

“Who says it can’t be real?”

The tiny kindle of hope inside me lit up into a flame. “Are you serious?” My voice had gone low without being aware of it.

He nodded.

I sucked in my breath.

“I’m tired of holding on to a decaying grudge. Why should I when we could be enjoying each other? Shouldn’t we try it out for real and see how it goes?”

“Let's.”

We stared at each other for a while and I was sure he was going to kiss me, but he then said, “Did you try this cheese.” The moment was gone. I glanced down at the pale yellow chunk he was pointing to. “Added to exceptional gardening skills,” he picked up a piece and drew it to my mouth, “Sofia is also an exceptional cheesemaker.” I took the morsel he offered. It melted into my mouth. He picked up my wine and placed it to my lips, saying, “It also tastes better paired with this wine.” I drank. He was right. My taste buds danced at the combination of the wine, cheese, and something else. Axel Reid.

After we were done eating, he went away and later came back with a notepad and pencil. He handed them to me. At my frown he said, “You wanted to sketch, remember?”

He was right. My hands were itching to draw, and my head was bursting with creative ideas. I took the pad and pencil and sketched. He sat beside me in silence, sometimes chatting me up. As much as I hated to admit it, his presence was an inspiration on its own. There was something about his hardness, his strength, and his beauty that inspired me.

By the time I was done sketching, it was dark outside. That’s when we left. We bade farewell to Sofia and went back to the city.

We went into the apartment hand in hand. As soon as we got inside, his mouth was on mine and he wrapped me in his arms. His kiss knotted my insides and made everything disappear as all his other kisses did. We continued to drink each other’s ardor as we divested our clothes. Him removing mine. Me removing his. Until we were both left with just our underwear. Suddenly he let me go, but I clutched him back to me and kissed her, and we began moving towards the living room until his back hit the window.

“So, this is what you want to do. You’re a little feisty tonight,” he whispered before tugging at my ear. I was about to respond when I heard another voice. A third voice in the room.

“Wow. You two are serious.” It was Francie, and she was sitting by the bar with a glass in hand. Next to her was a tall, reed-thin woman who looked awfully familiar.

“What the fuck are you doing here!” I immediately put Emilia behind me, shielding her from my sister and my ex-girlfriend.

“I live here? Or have you forgotten that you invited me to stay?” Francie said it so nonchalantly you’d think I had asked about her day.

“Can you please leave? Or at least give us some privacy.”

“Okay. Okay. No need to shout.” Francie and Gia both got up and made their way upstairs. How the two met or even knew each other was a puzzle for another time. Meanwhile, I had to worry about the woman behind me and my rapidly dissipating boner. She looked mortified. Of course, she did. She could be shy sometimes, and public sex wasn’t her thing.

I took hold of her cheek and gently caressing it. “I’m sorry about that. I had forgotten about,” I turned my gaze towards the stairs as if they were still there even though they had gone.

“It’s fine.” She rushed over to grab her clothes.

“We should have known better.”

“Fuck it. It’s my place. I do whatever I want.” And even though I no longer had a raging hard-on, I still wanted to finish what we had started. But that didn’t seem to be Emilia’s view. She had already retrieved most of her clothes and was hastily putting them on. Damn you, Francie, and your inconvenient timing.

“Aren’t you changing into your clothes?” Emilia said.

I huffed and ultimately grabbed the crumpled heap of clothing. A button had fallen off my shirt during our interrupted interlude. The things I wanted to do to her. Still want to, were now floating away from me the longer we stood there getting ourselves presentable. When she was done putting on her clothes, she began combing through her hair with her hands. I went over to help her. “Thanks,” she said.

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