Chapter 11
TARA
CC’s is weirdly empty for a Friday morning. I’m early—shocking, I know—nursing my peppermint tea and trying not to overthink the text Alfie sent last night.
Space Boy
Need to talk. CC’s tomorrow morning?
He shows up exactly on time ordering his black coffee and a muffin before sliding into the seat across from me.
“So,” I say, because someone has to break this silence, “enjoying your cup of bitter water?”
He stares at his coffee for a long moment. “Just this weekend.”
“What?”
“If”—he clears his throat—“if the offer still stands, will you be my girlfriend? Just for this weekend. I…fuck, Tar, I wish I could tell them to fuck off and leave me alone but I can’t. It’s complicated. I wish I didn’t have to do this. I’m not good at this stuff.”
I’ve never seen Alfie Spencer flustered before.
He’s always so controlled, so carefully put together.
But now his hands are actually shaking a little around his coffee cup, and he’s stumbling over his words in a way that makes my heart ache.
This is costing him something, asking for help. Letting someone see behind his mask.
“Okay,” I say softly, understanding now why he’s being so intense about this.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll do it. Operation Save Alfie From Arranged Marriage is a go.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, but his eyes stay serious. “There’s one condition.”
“I have to pretend to be Australian? ‘Cause I can bloody do that, mate!”
He opens his mouth then shakes his head, some of the tension easing from his shoulders at my attempt to lighten the mood.
“No, and God, never do that again. This stays between us.”
I blink. “What, like, completely?”
“I don’t...” He bites his lip. The gesture is so uncharacteristically nervous.
Alfie Spencer, who never shows weakness, is literally squirming in his seat.
“I don’t like people knowing about my family.
About that whole world. It’s messy and I prefer to keep it private.
Plus, this way it’s less likely that Troy will find out and make me eat my own ballsack. ”
“But Alex is my best friend—”
“Please.”
One word. Barely above a whisper. But something about the way he says it makes me realize this isn’t about being secretive or difficult. This matters to him.
“Okay,” I agree. “Just us.”
He relaxes slightly. “Thank you. Freddie knows because we live together, and Ethan will probably find out now that he’s around this summer.”
I consider arguing that Alex wouldn’t tell anyone besides them, but I don’t. Because I know the truth—she’d see right through me. She’d tell me this is a bad idea. And maybe she’d be right.
So, I drop it.
“I should probably know more about you,” I say, stealing a piece of his muffin. “You know, if we’re going to convince your family we’re dating.”
“And muffin theft is your research method?” But he pushes the plate closer to me. He hasn’t even had a bite anyway.
“Just practicing girlfriend privileges. Besides, you have unfair access into me. I’m sure Troy’s told you some embarrassing childhood stories.”
He thinks for a moment before something wicked flashes in his eyes. “Actually, he did show me one particularly interesting photo.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
“Please not the—”
“You, age fifteen, at his football game.” His lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “I think you had on fairy wings and a lot of glitter.”
I groan, sliding down in my chair. “I was protesting traditional cheerleader uniforms! It was a feminist statement!”
“With pixie dust?”
“The glitter was symbolic.”
“Of what, exactly?”
“Breaking free from societal expectations?” I try. “Shattering the patriarchy?”
“With a craft explosion?”
“I don’t know. To be honest I probably just wanted some attention and thought it looked cute. But it worked, didn’t it? They changed the uniform policy.”
“Because you traumatized the masses with aggressive whimsy?”
“Hey!” I flick a muffin crumb at him. “My whimsy is very strategic, thank you very much.”
“Whatever you say, Tinkerbell.”
“Don’t you dare.”
His grin widens. “What’s wrong, Tink?”
“I will literally dump this tea on you. And it’s still hot.”
“Careful.” He leans forward, voice dropping. “That’s not very fairy-like behavior.”
“Maybe I’m more of a dark fairy.” I match his posture, tilting my head. “You know, the kind that causes trouble.”
“I’m starting to figure that out.” His eyes drop to my lips for just a second before snapping back up. “The wings did suit you though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” The way he says it makes my cheeks heat. “All that sparkle. Very you.”
With a roll of my eyes, I lean forward, “So, tell me about this family thing. What’s my role as the perfect girlfriend who’s definitely ruining all their marriage plans?”
“Just... be yourself.” He takes a sip of coffee. “But maybe don’t tell any stories about your cousin’s mushroom adventures. Gran is more progressive but everyone else is a bit stiff.”
I gasp in mock offense. “Are you saying my family stories aren’t fancy enough for your crowd?”
“I’m saying my father might actually have a heart attack, and then my mother would have to find a way to blame me for that too.”
He says it like a joke, but there’s an edge to his voice that makes me wonder just how much truth is hiding behind his sarcasm.
For a moment I consider if I’m making a huge mistake. What if I’m really not strong enough for this?
“Alfie?” I wait until he looks at me. “Why me?”
He seems thrown by the question. “What?”
“You could have asked anyone. Or probably hired someone. But you’re trusting me with this. Why?”
For a moment, something raw flashes across his face. Then his walls slam back up. “Because you offered.”
I study him over my tea, realizing most people probably think Alfie’s just brooding and beautiful, like some dark prince from a fairy tale.
But over the last few years I’ve picked up on things about him.
I’ve seen how his eyes crinkle when he’s trying not to laugh at Ethan’s jokes.
How he quietly reassures people whenever he gets a moment.
There’s a softness under all that intensity that makes him more dangerous than any bad boy stereotype.
“That’s it?”
“And you already know too much.” He stands, grabbing his coffee and checking his watch, “I should get going, Hammond wants me in the lab at 10.”
Alfie stops so suddenly I almost crash into him. “When do you finish work tonight?”
“Three AM,” I grimace. Being put permanently on the closing shift has made me question my choices. But it’s still fun, I like working with Becky and James, and the tips really have been fantastic.
“I’ve got research with Hammond until four today.” He seems to be calculating something. “Come over to my place after 5 PM. We can... coordinate.”
The way he says ‘coordinate’ makes it sound like we’re planning a heist instead of a fake relationship. “Alright. I’ll go straight to work after.”
He nods and begins stalking towards the geology building.
“And Tara?” He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. “Thanks, a lot.”
“Right.” I try to ignore the weird flutter in my chest. “No problem.”
He nods once, then heads toward the mural site. I watch him go, wondering what exactly I’ve gotten myself into.
My phone buzzes – Alex, probably telling me about the annoying girl on her internship. For the first time since we met, I’m going to have to lie to my best friend.
Just us, he’d said.