Chapter 17
SYLAS
“Open the door, meu bem.” I rap my knuckles on Anna’s apartment door. I attempt to fix the brass number that’s crooked on the frame, but it swivels back to how it was originally.
The door opens a sliver, and my fixation on the number and the entire world kind of…fades.
I’m not a saint. I’ve done my fair share of things, made some choices I’m not proud of, but last night was different. I don’t know why, but it was. I keep telling myself it’s because of how things played out. How I watched her naked body move, how she rode her fingers, how she took me in her mouth.
But then I think about her smile, like the one she’s sporting now. It’s small, not reserved but sultry. Amiable. It does the weirdest things to my chest. I don’t hyper-fixate on things, but I can feel it; I can see myself obsessing over seeing it.
“Ready to eat?” I hold up the paper bag and cardboard cupholder.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” She pulls the door wide open, allowing me to step inside.
“Believe it.” I walk past her, hear the door shut, then she’s in front of me, guiding me to the living room.
This is my third time in her apartment, and each time I’ve felt overwhelmed by the decor.
It’s ridiculous to feel this way over lights and colors, but everything in here feels strangely real.
There’s a warmth to it I can’t explain. Which is baffling considering the building and her pint-sized apartment is old and worn down.
She plops down on the sofa, and I settle down next to her. She fixes her attention on our close proximity. After last night, it should be the least of her worries, and because she’s going to be my pretend girlfriend, we need to get comfortable sharing space.
“Chai gingerbread latte.” I hand her the cup, acting like her fingers brushing against mine didn’t make my stomach tighten. I grab my cup and throw the cupholder on the low table. “Don’t be weird.”
“Thanks, and I’m not being weird.” She tucks a leg under her and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m…processing.”
I open the paper bag and hand her her breakfast bagel before grabbing mine. “Well, process faster. We’re meeting him today, and I know he’s already suspicious this isn’t real.”
She peers at me, disgruntled. “Well, it’s not real.” She slips her cup between her thighs and pulls back the parchment paper, moaning in appreciation. “But we can make it look real. We just need to be prepared. I don’t know how thorough your dad is but—”
“As thorough as Mom.” I take a small, careful sip of my black coffee, then nestle the cup between my thighs. “They’ll ask questions, like how we met, how long this has been going on, what we plan to make of this. Marriage and—”
“Holy shit.” Her jaw drops. “Marriage?” She takes a huge bite of her bagel and chews rather quickly. I stifle a grin. “Your parents are fucking insane. I thought mine were bad. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I fold the parchment paper back, blowing on the steaming bagel before taking a bite. I don’t know how she didn’t burn herself. “And it’s fine. They don’t expect me to get married now, but they want it to happen with Florence.”
She takes another bite, chewing quickly and I watch clouds of steam leave her mouth.
“You’re burning the shit out of your tongue. Slow down.” I chuckle.
“I like my food really hot. I know it’s weird, but if it’s not hot, I can’t enjoy it.”
The way she ate her food fast at Strangers makes sense now. I was too occupied with being in her presence, I didn’t put too much thought into it.
“I’ll make sure your food stays hot from now on.”
“How thoughtful. You already sound like a boyfriend.” she sardonically remarks before pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “So, question…”
“Answer.”
“Would marrying Florence be such a bad thing?” She eyes me with curiosity. Picking up her cup, she blows faintly through the hole before taking a sip.
I pick at the parchment paper. “Yes. You’d think it’d make sense because we…” I side-eye Anna, who’s looking at me like she knows exactly what I’m going to say. I think I see the divot between her brows, but when I really look at her, it’s not there.
“Fucked?” She arches her brow.
“Yeah, once.” Flashbacks of the night appear in my head.
She was angry, but I never found out why.
I had my own shit going on, with my father being the cause.
We ran into each other, didn’t think as we started taking off our clothes, and the rest is hapless history.
“Since that night, she’s believed we’re meant to be. ”
She hums pensively. “And that is why you don’t fuck everything you see.”
“I saw you at Salt, didn’t I?” I flippantly say.
“Oh, get fucked.” She laughs and I laugh too. “And that wasn’t fucking. We were simply…getting each other off in a way that didn’t involve your dick inside of me.”
I love how casual and easy this feels. I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation that didn’t revolve around my parents or hockey, and I find myself leaning in, not wanting the moment to end.
“Did it hurt?”
“Did what hurt?”
“Your piercings.” I glance at her chest. She’s wearing a dark-green oversized pullover that has “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal” on it.
Anna’s gaze follows mine. “Yeah, the second one was a bitch. I think all the adrenaline went to the first and I was slightly in shock from it. So once it wore off, I really felt everything.” She peers up at me.
“We need to find some common ground. Something that doesn’t revolve around our bodies and sex.
We’re good at that, but I don’t think your parents would appreciate it. ”
I snicker, taking another bite, and nod. “We have it.”
“What is it?”
“This—how easy everything is between us. How we align so well and maybe in a strange way, make a lot of sense together.” I falter, realizing it sounds cliché, but there’s no point taking it back.
I meant what I said. “We didn’t know each other a couple weeks ago and now look at us.
I’m sure my parents have their doubts, but we’ll sell it. ”
She goes quiet and I wonder if what I said sounds ridiculous. I don’t know where it came from, but it made sense. Like we do. I don’t understand it, but it’s comforting being around her. Whether it involves being physical or not.
Her lips curl into a…bashful…smile? And her eyes soften, alight with a tenderness.
I don’t know what classifies as a crush, but maybe Thea and Marc are right. Maybe that’s what this is.
Why is it so hard to know?
She looks away and picks up her cup, taking a drink. “So…um…” she stammers, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear that’s covered in piercings. “What do you think they’ll expect to see from us? Do we need to be affectionate? Or…”
Anna and I stand outside Linked, the restaurant my parents chose. She looks up at me and I down at her. She doesn’t appear nervous, but still I check in.
“Nervous?” I hold my hand out. “Not regretting it are you?”
She slips her hand in mine, and when I squeeze it, she squeezes back. “No. Not nervous. Like you said, this, us, feels easy. I don’t know how to make sense of it either, but I’m okay. Are you nervous?”
“No.” Yes, but only because this could go sideways in seconds.
Mom will be cordial; Dad, I don’t know. I drum my fingers in my pocket, desperately craving a cigarette since I don’t have gum right now.
“Thanks for letting me drag you into the bullshit mess I call my family. On the positive side, my sister is nice.”
She chuckles. “Great, I can take your parents despising me, but I don’t know if I’d be okay with my sister-in-law hating me.”
My lips twitch, and the noose of anxiety wrapped around my neck loosens. Leave it to her sarcasm to make me feel at ease. “Let’s go inside. They’re already here, waiting for us.”
As I usher her inside and the hostess leads us to the table, I think to myself how crazy this all is. Is this really necessary so my parents can stop pushing for Florence and me to happen? One look at Anna and I immediately think yes.
I kind of hate that I dragged her into this, but…I also don’t. I’ll keep that to myself because how do I explain that I’m really enjoying this?
Who would’ve thought I’d be okay holding hands with a girl?
When my parents come into view, Anna straightens. I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back.
Here goes nothing.