Page 35 of The Pretend Marriage Experiment

“So, you know, I felt you turning in bed last night, unable to sleep….” I could feel his eyes on me now, but I dared not look at him. I continue speaking. “I know your head must be a mess right now, and mere words can’t smoothen the war within you, but I’ll still try. Just know that you are amazing regardless of what people say. You’ll ace this game, and I’ll cheer for you…so that is all that matters.”

As soon as I finish, I take my hands off his and continue looking straight ahead, scared to look at Ethan. I’m not sure why.

“So, you’ll cheer for me, huh?” Ethan says, and despite myself, I turn to look at him, and he is smiling. No, he is fleeing.

“Shut up!” I say, pushing on his shoulder, which makes him laugh out loud. And for a second, I just stare at him because Ethan looking happy causes my levels of endorphins to shoot up the chart.

“Ok, ok. Sorry. I would love it if you cheered for me just like my real wife would.” He says that looking straight into my eyes, and I swear I forget how to breathe in the moment.

I clear my throat and look away, trying my very best to hide the crimson of my cheeks. “We’ll see about that.”

I look outside to see the stadium buzzing with a crowd holding colorful placards waiting to get in. It’s not my game, and yet I feel like I am the one under public scrutiny. I turn to face Ethan, who looks much more relaxed than I thought he would. Out of the blue, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I stop myself from gasping too evidently.

“Thank you for everything.” He smiles again and then gets out of the car, offering his keys to the valet. At the same time, I keep sitting, unable to move, utterly flabbergasted.

*******

The neon sign reads 2 V 2, and I stand in the VIP bleachers, pasting on a smile for Ethan even though inside stress is wreaking havoc. Ethan, with his teammates, is trying to get hold of the ball, but the other team is adamant about not giving in to their strategies. Ethan has not hooped the ball even once, and I can see the panic surfacing on his face with each passing second.

Ever since the game began, I have heard my name and Ethan’s innumerable times and seen judgmental eyes settle on us. But despite my previous concerns on the matter, I only care about Ethan getting that winning goal right now. So, I take the placard saying, ‘Ethan Get That Goal!!!’ and begin jumping up and down. I then scream at the top of my lungs, “Baby, you can do it!” Everyone on the court looks at me, including Ethan and his teammates.

Ethan’s face lights up like a shining star. He then blows me a kiss which gains a peal of huge laughter from the crowd. The mood lightens, and the game resumes. I keep holding the placard while cheering for Ethan and praying under my breath. With his newfound energy, Ethan plays with such expertise that soon, the ball is in his hand and, in no time, through the hoop.

He jumps so high to get the ball through the ginormous players of the opposite team that, from afar, it looks like he is flying. The crowd breaks into a cacophonous roar when the ball passes through the hoop and the timer shows three seconds left. I join in and breathe the breath I did not know I was holding. The trophy is handed to Ethan’s team, who holds him up on their shoulders, screaming and celebrating.

While I am staring at Ethan and his scintillating smile, I don’t notice his coach standing beside me until he begins to speak, startling me.

“You know it’s because of you.” he says, looking at his team with pride.

“What is?” I ask, clearly confused,

“The win. You motivated Ethan to come back to his game. Thank you.” He looks at me now and places his hand on my shoulder before leaving the bleachers.

I stand there, still, smiling like a proud wife. A real wife.

*******

“You should have gone for the team dinner,” I say as we enter the house, him behind me, holding the shiny, golden trophy.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” he says, shutting the door and placing the trophy on the table.

I blush at his words but try to keep it together.

“I wouldn’t have minded.”

“But I would have.” he says, and despite the sweetness of his words, his stare remains intense and unwavering.

“Okay.” That’s all I could muster.

He steps closer, and I take a step back, intimidated by his overwhelming presence. He keeps stepping closer, and I keep moving backward until my back is pasted to the wall.

“What are you doing?” I ask weakly.

He puts a hand over my head and comes closer until he is only a few inches away from my face.

“I have controlled myself all day, but I can’t anymore. Why the hell are you so sweet to me?!” he asks, and I feel his every word through my skin.

“Because you deserve it.” As soon as I say this, his lips crash on mine, and a cascade of raw desire washes over both of us.

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