Just Pretend (Just… #1)

8. James

CHAPTER 8

JAMES

Hallie’s list of rules and stipulations for the retreat has me questioning why I agreed to her plan in the first place. The only reason I decided to go along with this charade is because it gives me a legitimate reason for not going to my father’s birthday extravaganza. My mother will sniff out a lie instantly, so the only way I am going to get out of the weekend in Half Moon Bay is to actually be out of town. It seemed like the perfect win-win situation at the time—I spend some time at a Wyoming dude ranch, relaxing and taking in the fresh mountain air instead of choking down my father’s disdain for my life choices, and at the same time I do something nice for a neighbor in need. Of course, it helps that my neighbor in need is a hot brunette with a body I’d like to see a lot more of.

I reach for my beer bottle, taking a long swig as I try to get any thoughts of getting together with Hallie out of my head. She has made it abundantly clear that she has zero interest in me and that going on this trip with me is an absolute last resort. I need to forget about any ideas of getting closer to Hallie on any level. It’s not happening and I’m not going there. Besides, I don’t stand much of a chance if she’s going to insist on me sleeping on the couch the whole time.

“Don’t worry about me,” I say to her, getting a kick out of messing with her even though it only makes her hate me more. “I’m not the one you have to be concerned about messing up.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hallie asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

With my eyebrows raised, I take another sip of beer before I answer her question. I don’t know why I enjoy teasing her so much. Maybe it’s because I’m so bored of the other women I bring home, how it’s all about sex, that there’s no challenge to it. Hallie is the ultimate challenge and the more I poke at her, the more her outer shell hardens, becoming impenetrable. I’m dying to crack her open and see what’s inside, and the fact that it will never happen makes the challenge all the more alluring. I’m sure if I saw a therapist, like my mother has suggested multiple times, they would tell me that I enjoy needling Hallie and turning her off from me because I don’t want to get close to anyone after what happened with Simone. I’m not an idiot. I took Psych 101 in college.

“I think you’re the one you have to worry about,” I finally reply. “Me?” she scoffs, sounding genuinely surprised. “What makes you think I’m going to be an issue? I have everything to lose if this doesn’t work.”

“Sure, but are you really going to be able to convince anyone that you’re crazy about me with that attitude?” I ask her. “Do you really think getting this promotion is enough for you to be able to pull this off?”

I watch closely as Hallie takes a deep breath, hesitating before answering. For a moment, I wonder if this trip going well means more to her than just getting a promotion. I don’t know what it is—maybe just that for her to spend this time with me, she has to be legitimately desperate—but I can see the torment in her eyes.

“Well,” she finally replies, looking away from me, “as you so smartly pointed out, I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“So, are we doing this then?” I ask.

I catch myself leaning forward in anticipation and quickly reset my body, casually propping my elbow up against the back of the couch, resting my chin on my hand. I’ve found that by acting like nothing matters or means anything, I can start to really feel that way. It helps in keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s surprising how simple body language can affect perception. Hallie takes one look at me and rolls her eyes, thinking that she needs me more than I need her, even though I’m depending on this trip to get me the hell out of town.

“Yes,” she groans, her voice filled with reluctant acceptance. “We’re doing it.”

Finishing off her beer, she places it back on the coffee table, her back hunched in defeat, her eyes downcast. She steadies herself and then stands up from the couch, heading back to the door.

“We’ll talk more about the details later,” she says on her way out.

I’m expecting her to leave without another word, but she turns back and looks at me as she reaches the door.

“I just have one question,” she says, sounding as if she can’t help herself from asking whatever it is on her mind, despite her better judgement.

“Shoot,” I reply, unable to suppress my interest.

“We barely know each other,” Hallie points out, her head cocked to the side, unraveling a puzzle. “We clearly don’t like each other.”

“What gives you that impression?” I interject with a wide grin that elicits one of Hallie’s signature eyerolls.

“Why would you do this for me?” she asks.

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should just tell her the truth, that her company retreat is getting me out of a family event I’d rather die than attend? Maybe it would help the situation if Hallie knew we were both getting something out of the arrangement. On the other hand, it might work to my benefit while we’re in Wyoming for Hallie to think I’m doing her a big favor and getting nothing in return. She’s going to be a pain in the ass either way, so I might as well hold it over her that she needs me without admitting I need her, too. She doesn’t need to know everything, after all.

“Because I’m a nice guy,” I reply with a smile.

Hallie raises an incredulous eyebrow, studying me quietly for a second. It’s obvious she doesn’t buy it, so I decide to go with a small portion of the truth.

“Or I just like the idea of you owing me,” I laugh.

“You are such an ass,” Hallie sighs.

“But I’m your ass now,” I tell her. “Which makes me a pretty fine ass.”

“I must be out of my mind,” Hallie says before throwing open the door and stomping out of my apartment. A second later, I hear her door slam shut.

With a grin, I finish my beer and collect the empty bottles from the coffee table, thinking this trip might be fun after all.

Waking up earlier than usual, likely because of my lack of a companion last night, I head straight to the shop, wanting to take another stab at the oak boards. It’s been killing me not knowing what to do with the wood, unable to wrap my head around what this branch wants to be. Still, I’m feeling the creative juices flowing, so I play with it for a little while, exploring my options without making any more changes to the wood itself.

I feel like I’m actually onto something when my phone buzzes on the counter and I peer over to see it’s a reminder to call my mother back. When we spoke on the phone, I told her I would think about the party, even though I knew all I would be thinking is how much I don’t want to go. I know I should get the call over with, but even with my new excuse for missing the party, I still feel uneasy about letting my mother down. I couldn’t care less about my dad’s feelings, but I don’t want to slight my mom in any way.

With a deep sigh, I put down my tools and pick up the phone, figuring I should probably just get this over with. If I don’t call her soon, she’s going to call me, and then I’ll be caught off guard. I need to control the conversation to ensure she doesn’t find any holes in my story.

“James.” I can hear the smile in my mother’s voice when she answers the phone. “I hope you’re calling with good news.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid not,” I reply, sticking to the script I came up with in my head. “There was a reason those dates seemed familiar. I’m actually going out of town.”

“Really?” Mom asks, clearly not buying it. “And just where are you going?”

“Wyoming.”

There’s a brief pause on the line as my mother tries to decide if I’m lying to her.

“Why in the world are you going there? Is this for work?”

I have no intention of lying to my mother, but obviously I can’t tell her the truth either. It would both crush and confuse her if I said I would rather go away with a near-stranger to pretend to be her boyfriend than celebrate my own father’s birthday. Instead, I try to be as vague as possible.

“I was invited on a trip with someone I know,” I tell her. “I can’t really get out of it now, unfortunately.”

“Someone?” Mom repeats, immediately grabbing hold of what I’m saying. “Hold on a minute—is this someone a woman? Are you dating again?”

It’s the hope in her voice that sends a sharp pain to my heart. Not that my mother is dying for me to settle down, get married and have a couple of kids like Trey, but that she is so desperate for me to be me again. The old me who was part of the family and came over on holidays and was, well, happy. She obviously thinks if I’m seeing someone, I’ve gotten over Simone, one of the two main causes of my current state of apathy. As much as I don’t want to give her false hope about turning a corner, at the same time, I know my mom will back off from pushing me to go to the party if she thinks I’m dating someone.

“There’s a new woman in my life,” I reply, working hard to walk the line of lying to my mother without crossing it. “It’s still pretty recent.”

“That’s wonderful!” Mom exclaims. “I’m so happy you’re putting yourself out there again and letting someone in again after Simone.”

“Uh, yeah,” I reply uneasily, knowing that even if I didn’t explicitly lie, I’m letting my mother believe something that isn’t true.

“Will we be able to meet this mystery woman sometime soon?” Mom asks, sounding excited by the possibility.

“I don’t know, Mom,” I say noncommittally, hoping she will just take this as my usual state of keeping my family at arm’s length.

“Fine, fine,” she backs off right away. “Whenever you’re ready. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

I cringe, feeling even worse about lying to her now. She already has her hopes up that this relationship is going to pull me up out of the rut I’m in and bring me back into the fold. I’m not sure how to tell her that even if I did open myself up to the possibility of dating again, which I’m not, it will never be enough to repair my relationship with my father. It would take a miracle for any woman to get me back on good terms with that man after all we’ve been through.

“Why don’t we have lunch when you get back from your trip?” Mom suggests. “If you would like to invite your friend to join us, that would be wonderful. If not, I look forward to spending some time with my son.”

“I’d love to have lunch with you, Mom,” I reply.

“Alright, alright,” she says, quickly picking up on my subtext. “I won’t say another word about it.”

I know this isn’t the end of the conversation and that I’m going to have to dig this hole a little deeper before it’s over. I figure I’ll have to come up with a story once I’m back from the dude ranch that the relationship didn’t work out. I’m already dreading it, knowing that I’m going to be letting my mother down.

“I hope the party goes well,” I say. “Really. Have a great time.”

“Thank you, James,” Mom replies. “Enjoy Wyoming. Send me some photos!”

“I will,” I laugh, figuring I can snap a selfie in front of a mountain or something to satisfy her. “Talk to you soon.”

As I hang up the call and turn back to the oak boards, I realize that Hallie and I have at least one thing in common—we’re both lying about being in a relationship with each other. I just hope it doesn’t blow up in either of our faces.