14. Felix
FOURTEEN
FELIX
Why am I giddy?
This is ridiculous. I know this is a fake date. It means nothing. And yet it’s like we’re officially going out. Why didn’t I feel this way on our date last week? Maybe because last time was just an obligation I was afraid of and this one is a date I asked for?
Which is stupid to even think that way because it’s a fake fucking date. It means nothing. It’s only for show, more specifically for Elsa and Arya, and this part, I don’t particularly regret. Not with how excited they seem to be about it, they’re jumping up and down on my bed while supposedly helping pick my outfit.
And as if that isn’t enough I have to put on every article of clothing as if we’re in a shopping montage in a movie. But I’m not complaining. More fun time with my daughters means less time playing mediator over every toy in the house.
“No. Not the pink shirt. It washes your skin out,” Elsa says and I can’t help but laugh.
Is there anything she doesn’t know?
I take the top off and put on the next one laid out in bed. A green top with a big bow in the front.
“Nuh-uh.” Arya shakes her head from side to side while Elsa picks up the next top. A black chiffon top with white and gold floral pattern.
As soon as it’s on they both look at each other and I wait with bated breath for their verdict.
“That’s the one!” Arya screams and we switch our attention to pants. I’m not sure what’s so complicated about pants but apparently we have to find the right pair for the top. I end up in my favorite washed-out blue jeans that I adore and look at myself in the mirror.
“Not bad, girls. Not bad.”
If this was a real date, Hayworth wouldn’t stand a chance but since it’s not and sex is off the table I guess I’ll have to be the only one to enjoy this hot bod.
Arya scurries away and returns with a pair of pink trainers to complete the look and then we get on to my makeup, which Arya loves to help me with.
I was never into it, especially when I was female-presenting because it made my dysphoria worse and I always felt like a clown in it, but since my transition and with my girls’ help I’ve found a love for it I never thought possible. It helps that it makes me look smoking hot, even if I say so myself.
By quarter to seven we’re all done and Hayworth is right on time for our first fake outing.
Like the gentleman I’ve asked him to be, he waits for me at the door, dressed in a pair of navy-blue chinos and a white button-up and he holds a rose in his hands, looking like my dream man.
“Hey, you look—” I start when he leans over and kisses me on the cheek, taking me by surprise.
His smell wraps around me like a tornado of smoked cedar and masculinity and I have to hold my breath as his lips touch my cheek before I let out any incriminating noise that will embarrass me before this date is even underway.
The girls shriek in the room next door and I smirk, accepting the rose.
“You look stunning,” he says.
“Likewise,” I tell him. “Nice touch with the kiss, by the way,” I whisper.
“I can do better.” He raises an eyebrow and I have to hold my breath for a second again.
“Oh I’m sure. But slow your roll there, mister,” I say and push his chest gently which sends the girls into another shrieking contest.
“Oh don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” he replies, all smolder and promise, making me weak at the knees.
God! What is it about this guy? It’s not like he’s the first attractive guy I’ve seen in my life. I shouldn’t be this…thirsty for him.
“Ready to go?”
“Actually, I’m just waiting for—” I start when Cheyenne pulls up on my driveway and Hayworth turns to look at her.
“Cheyenne!” he exclaims.
“Uncle Hayworth!” She rushes into his arms and I watch them exchange niceties before they turn to me.
“You two are related?”
“I know, we don’t look it.” Hayworth chuckles and Cheyenne elbows his ribs.
“That’s not what I meant. I just didn’t realize you two know each other.”
“Hayworth here is my uncle’s best friend,” she says.
I nod and let her know the girls have already had dinner before she walks inside.
How peculiar. I would have expected her to say something when I came back from our date on Saturday. Maybe she was too sleepy to elaborate, but you’d think she’d tell me the next day over breakfast.
Oh well, maybe I’m overthinking it.
“Now I’m ready.” I clear my throat and Hayworth leads me to his car and this time he opens the door for me.
I roll my eyes with a chuckle but I don’t miss how enthused the girls are at the gesture, still glued to the window.
“Come on. I think we’ve given them enough of a show. Let’s get out of here,” I say and Hayworth shuts the door and we get going. “So…where are we going?”
“Well, you wanted to make a show out of it, so that’s what we’ll do.”
Uh-oh.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He laughs before he answers. “Nothing. We just have to participate in this town’s sickening activities for February.”
“You know you can just say Valentine, right?”
He fake-gags and I burst into laughter.
Soon he’s parked up again in a place called the Red Clover Inn and we join the other couples in the reception room, which has been decked out with a bunch of tables and electric countertop ovens.
“Welcome to our Couples’ Cooking Class everyone,” says a woman in the front and I turn to glare at Hayworth.
“Really? Couples cooking class?”
He just shrugs and picks a table for the both of us while everyone around us stares.
“I’m about to ask why when another woman comes forward and wags a finger in front of Hayworth’s face.”
“And what are you doing here, Mr. Hayworth? We don’t need any trouble tonight, thank you very much,” she says.
Hayworth opens his mouth to answer but I step up beside him and drape my arm around his.
“We’re here on a date, miss. I swear he’ll be on his best behavior.”
The woman looks from me to Hayworth a hundred times over as if in complete disbelief but she doesn’t challenge me as she resumes her walk around the room while other couples take their places.
Our chef-instructor for the evening takes the reins again and walks us through making pizza dough and everyone pays close attention.
“Is she seriously just teaching us how to make pizza?”
“Yup,” is Hayworth’s only answer.
“Does she realize we can just order it, right?”
Hayworth chuckles and I turn to him, but that makes him chuckle again.
“Does she have a pizza place or something?”
“Nope. She’s just a home cook.”
“So…she doesn’t even run a diner or restaurant?”
He shakes his head.
“And she’s teaching pizza? Doesn’t everyone know how to make pizza?”
Hayworth stops mixing ingredients and turns to stare at me. “Do you?”
“Ah yes, it’s so hard to mix flour, oil and yeast.”
“What did you expect?” He laughs.
“I don’t know. Beef bourguignon? Hand-made pasta? Pot roast?”
Hayworth rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Should I say something? Is this too simple for you?”
I put my hand up and shout: “No.”
Of course everyone turns to look at us. And I have to bite the inside of my cheeks not to laugh.
“Sorry,” Hayworth mouths instead and goes back to mixing the dough while the instructor waffles on about the best way to make pizza as if it’s rocket science and glaring at us as if expecting another interruption. Once we’re done with the yeast-free dough we move on to the tomato sauce.
“Wow. Everyone really does hate you, don’t they?”
“I wouldn’t say hate. They just know I cause trouble.”
“Same difference. They’re acting like you murdered someone.”
“I did,” he answers and I snap my head round. “Love.”
I’m barely able to contain my laughter but I do my best. Especially when the couple in front of us turns to stare us down as if they’re better than us.
Even though we’re supposed to be on a mission here, I can’t help but stare back and once there are no eyes on us I lean closer to Hayworth. “Okay, these people are starting to piss me off.”
He lets out a long sigh before he says: “I told you. Loved-up people are insufferable.”
I nod as the instructor tells us it’s time to construct our pizza.
“Say, if you were here in a club capacity, what would you do?” I whisper the club part to avoid any prying ears but I don’t miss how Hayworth straightens at the mention.
“I thought you wanted to help me rebuild my image around here.” He narrows his eyes and I have to fight with myself not to roll my eyes at how much pride he’s filled with.
“Yeah well, they’re pissing me off and this is the most boring class ever,” I tell him.
His smile turns cheeky. “I have an idea,” he whispers and I watch him as he takes a bowl of olives and sprinkles them on the pizza with angry, sharp movements. “Yeah, but I like olives!” he says, louder and in an irritated tone.
“Okay.” I grimace.
“You can put peppers on your half!” he continues in the same manner and I don’t know what he’s doing but I follow his lead anyway.
“Well, I would if you kept your olives on your half,” I snap at him. The couple in front of us turn and I throw them an agitated: “What?”
“Is there a problem?” the instructor asks.
We shake our heads.
“No. Just a little disagreement on the ingredients,” Hayworth says.
The instructor stares at us for a few moments.
“Well, try and work together. This is supposed to bring you closer,” she says and walks away.
“Was that your brilliant plan?” I ask him.
“Oh here we go again,” he exclaims. “Trying to take control of the situation again.”
I narrow my eyes, glaring at him. “Are we having a domestic?” I whisper.
“Why not?” He shrugs and winks at me and I gasp.
“I’m not trying to control anything. I just want a pizza I also like. Is that too much to ask?”
Hayworth throws the fresh tomatoes onto the pizza with a sigh and turns away.
“Of course. Blame it on me, won’t you? It’s always my fault.”
I pick the tomatoes off and put sliced onions all over the pizza as if trying to prove a point before I say: “We said we’d each pick a half and you took all of it with your disgusting olives. It is your fault.”
Never mind, I actually like olives.
The couple in front of us has completely stopped building their pizza, as have pretty much every other couple.
“Would you two keep it quiet?” asks the original woman who’d had a problem with Hayworth when we first stepped in.
“Sure. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I say with a forced smile and continue to build the pizza while Hayworth is just standing there watching me with a deep frown.
I have to admit. He’s playing his part extremely well. Too well, almost.
Once the pizza is in the oven I dust my hands and turn to him and he huffs.
“Happy now?” he asks.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Of course you are. You always get your way.” He grunts and I feel the laughter threaten to expose us so I contort my face every way possible until the urge passes.
“Maybe my way is the best,” I offer eventually.
“Of course you’d think that!” he huffs.
At this point some of the couples are just watching us like we’re a damn show, and who can blame them since we’re all done with cooking already. This is the lamest cooking class ever.
“Stop acting like a baby. You’re embarrassing me,” I stage-whisper and see a few heads nod along.
“Oh I embarrass you? I embarrass you? And you don’t? You come back home every day smelling of booze, cigarettes and other men but I embarrass you?”
Woah. What a one-eighty! I wish he’d prepared me for this because I almost choke on my own laughter but I cover it up by coughing and bending over to hide my face behind the counter.
“I can’t believe this. I told you, it’s my job.”
“To sleep with other men?” he fake cries.
I take a deep breath to avoid breaking character. “No! To attend these late-night meetings. It’s not my fault they drink and smoke around me.”
He huffs and folds his arms. “I’m not stupid, Lloyd. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Lloyd?
Wow, he’s full-on putting on a show without concern for realism here, isn’t he?
“I didn’t say you were born yesterday. I just asked you to trust me!” I shout back.
“Trust? Trust? That trust was broken when I saw the pictures.”
“The pictures?” I ask as if I’ve got something to hide.
“The pictures!” he enunciates. “I’ve seen the orgies. I’ve seen what you do in those meetings.”
The control unleashes from within my grasp and I burst into laughter and yet I manage to turn it into a fake sob.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry.” I reach for him but he brushes me off. I try again and this time he picks up his jacket, throws a “I’ve got nothing to say to you” and storms out.
I’ve got no choice but to follow him.
As soon as we’re out in the front yard he turns to me all rage and fury and I break first. I’ve been suppressing my laughter in for far too long that tears form in my eyes when I let go, but Hayworth joins me soon enough.
“Bravo!” He applauds me. “What a range!”
“Me?” I purse my lips. “What about you? You brought the drama!”
“Drama is my middle name,” he answers and takes a bow. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I nod and walk up to his car when my stomach wails like a baby.
“What the hell was that?” Hayworth grins, staring at my belly.
“Ah, that. That would be my stomach complaining that I haven’t fed it yet.”
Hayworth bites his lip and just before he closes the car door behind me, says: “Hang on,” and rushes back inside.
I stare at the door in complete disbelief of how tonight’s “date” has gone. I’d be lying if I said I knew this was how it was going to turn out, but that was a lot more fun than I thought it’d be.
I haven’t laughed like that in ages.
Maybe there’s something to this Valentine-hating method he’s got going for him.
A minute later Hayworth runs out with something in his hands. Our pizza on top of tons of paper towels that he disposes of in my lap before setting off for destination unknown.
“I don’t think it’s fully cooked, but it’s better than nothing, right?” He smirks and I look down at my lap that’s on fire by the home-made pizza and the labor of our fake love.
It’s an absolute mess and yet…
“It’s perfect,” I say and put my hands under the paper towel to stop the burning. Not that it does anything to stop the heat from crawling all through my body, setting me on fire.
“That’s what I was thinking,” he agrees and I stare into his eyes far longer than necessary.
They’re dark, beautiful and addictive. And I can’t help but feel they’re the most dangerous eyes I could ever look into.
They look like eyes that could set me ablaze.