8. Bobby
8
Bobby
Cold, Hard, Truth
The gravel crunches as I walk alongside Claire.
It’s hard work to keep my eyes off her this morning. She looks…incredible. Dressed in a customized riding outfit that hugs her curves in all the right places. Her jodhpurs are crisp white, accentuating her color, and her fitted jacket highlights her slender figure.
Over the past week, we've fallen into some sort of a routine. We now eat breakfast together with the rest of the family, making sure we’re strategically seated so we can show off subtle displays of affection in front of Fiona.
It’s amazing how it works like a charm every time. Fiona had left the breakfast table seething with barely concealed jealousy over the last week, and she didn’t even bother coming down this morning.
Our evenings are spent indulging in voluntary family activities. Claire told me she used to skip these before, but it seems like a good place to stage our performances in front of most of the family members.
What we do between mornings and evenings depends on the whos and the moods. Today, it’s riding with Gramps and Mimi. Claire told me last night that this is her grandparent's way of getting a closer look at us lovebirds in a private setting before giving their final stamp of approval. Their approval means Claire is immediately in the running to get the property Fiona has been eyeing for a long time.
Whatever Claire wants, I’m determined to help her get it.
The grand stable comes into view, a red brick building adorned with white trim.
"Ready for this, cowboy?" Claire asks, a playful grin unfolding across her face.
"What happens if I'm not?"
She cocks her head to the side. The sunlight catches her hair, turning it into a fiery red halo around her face. I drag in an uncomfortable breath and take a step back from her.
"Oh, Bobby," she purrs, taking a step toward me. “You better be.” Her eyes hold mine, a playful fire burning within them. She leans even closer to me. “’Cause I have an idea on ways to make stubborn men behave."
She places a hand on my chest, sending chills through me. I blink at her. Her smile holds a hint of challenge that sets my pulse racing. The scent of her perfume fills my senses. She smells of wildflowers and citrus — a scent that is uniquely Claire.
My gaze drops to her enticing lips, then back to her sparkling green eyes and again to her lips. For a moment I wonder what good excuse I can come up with for kissing her out here in the open.
Should I do it?
I start to lean towards her, and she closes her eyes, her arms circling around my neck.
Gramps’ booming throat-clearing cuts through the air before we connect.
Claire spins around, her voice squealing, "Gramps!"
"Looks like someone's eager to get started," Gramps calls. “Are you here early for horse riding, or another kind of activity?”
There’s a mischievous glint in the old man’s eyes. I tilt my hat towards him in greeting, not knowing whether to thank him or curse him for appearing at that exact moment.
“You were late, so I just wanted to steal a kiss while nobody was around,” Claire explains sweetly.
I have to hand it to her, she's incredible at this whole thing. The way she switches emotions on a dime to portray a woman hopelessly in love is crazy. I wonder how she’s able to go on without getting things muddled up.
I force a smile, the weight of the situation suddenly weighing on me. The line between acting and genuine affection is becoming increasingly blurred, and the longer this charade goes on, the harder it becomes to tell the difference.
I wish this was real.
"Alright you lovebirds," Mimi teases, smiling warmly as her gaze darts between us. “Let's get you both matched with some suitable steeds."
We follow them into the stable, where the sweet scent of hay, leather, and horseflesh fills the air.
Claire suddenly grabs my hand, worry flashing in her eyes.
“I forgot to ask you,” she whispers. “How good are you at riding horses?"
For a second, I consider telling her I once rode a mechanical bull at a bar. But somehow, I don't think that's quite the equestrian experience she's looking for. Plus, I'm pretty sure mechanical bulls don't bite.
“I’ve fallen off once or twice.”
“What?” Her eyes swell with worry. “What are we going to do?”
I lean in closer to her before responding. “Ride or die. Just pray I manage to stay upright.”
“Bobby!”
I hurry after Gramps and Mimi before she can say anything more. It feels good to see Claire worrying about me for a change, but she doesn’t need to. I’m quite an adept rider and I’ve been riding since I was eight. I guess I never told her that before.
The horses in the Carter stable are magnificent, their coats gleaming in the muted light. Gramps introduces each horse by name, detailing their personalities and temperaments. I can hear his deep affection for these animals in his voice. The horses know him, too, feeding off apples in his hand and responding gently to his touch.
"Now then, Bob," Gramps’ gaze twinkles. “Which one catches your eye?"
"Gramps," Claire clears her throat. “Maybe Bobby should start with something a little…?"
“I’ll take this.”
I point to a black stallion towards the end of the row. He stands proudly, muscles rippling beneath his sleek black coat. His dark eyes gleam with intelligence and a hint of defiance.
A surprised gasp escapes Claire's lips.
"Wrangler," Gramps chuckles. “He’s spirited and not anyone rides him.”
I reach out and the horse shies back. I open the stall’s door and walk in, gently raising my hands to show the horse I mean no harm. I reach out again, slower this time, and the horse steadies. I stroke the stallion's velvet nose again and he snorts, before burying his nose in my hand.
“Oh, good. You look like you had training?” Gramps smiles.
“Yeah, I did.” I nod. “Had an uncle who was a jockey.”
“I think you can ride Wrangler.”
I nod. “Thank you, Sir.”
We saddle the horses and once I'm mounted, Wrangler tests my resolve with a few impatient snorts and a dance in place. I hold him steady, asserting dominance and whispering calming words while stroking his neck.
Claire’s mounted a chestnut mare that seems gentle and well-trained. We ride out into the sun-dappled woods, the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves mixing with bird chirps and rustling leaves in the breeze. Riding alongside Claire feels peaceful.
"So, Bob," Gramps begins, riding up beside me on the left. “Tell me about your family. Where are you folks from originally?"
The corner of Claire's eye twitches, and she shoots me a fleeting glance before quickly averting her gaze.
"We're from Chicago originally, but we moved around a lot and finally put roots down in Florida."
The questions continue from that point. Gramps wants to know all about my family. I share the truth with him, but I carefully sidestep the more sensitive details that could reveal too much about my true identity.
Mimi, with a curious twinkle in her eye, inquires about how Claire and I first crossed paths. I delight in recounting the tale of Claire as a rebellious freshman and how our friendship blossomed from her defiant spirit. As I spin the story, I can’t help but revel in the nostalgia.
Claire rolls her eyes at my tale. “I just didn’t like the outdated traditions, so I spoke my mind.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You did more than say your mind, Claire. You pushed for a change and started a one-person protest in front of the professor’s office.”
Mimi lets out a chuckle from behind us. “"Fearless, that's our Claire," she shakes her head fondly. “Always pushing boundaries."
Gramps turns to me, a warm smile on his face. “She may not look it," he says, his voice filled with pride. "But that girl has a backbone of steel."
“Come on, Gramps. You’re making me sound like some kind of warrior princess."
Pride dances in Claire’s eyes even as she protests. It’s great to see her completely in her element—confident, unafraid and bonding with her family.
Her grandfather laughs. “Just look at you on a horse. We should get it painted and name the painting ‘ Warrior Princess .’”
Claire chuckles. “Okay! Enough talking. Race you to the clearing up ahead, everyone?"
Before Gramps can even respond, she spurs her horse into a gallop, leaving a trail of laughter in her wake. Gramps lets out a hearty chuckle, urging his own horse forward, and Mimi and I follow.
As Mimi and I ride behind the duo in front, she reminisces about Claire's childhood. I smile as I hear stories of the spirited little girl with a stubborn streak.
"She was always a handful," Mimi chuckles. "There was never a dull moment. She kept us on our toes, that's for sure."
I steal a glance at Claire, who's riding a few paces ahead with her Gramps. Her smile is genuine, her laughter unrestrained.
“Thank you for coming into her life,” Mimi smiles before racing off.
A pang of guilt washes over me. Her Gramps and Mimi clearly adore her, and all we’re doing is lying to them.
But then I catch another glimpse of Claire's happiness. She looks so genuine and radiant that it takes my breath away. I have to remember why I’m here. I’m her friend and I want her to be happy, even if it means playing this little game.
Her Gramps and Mimi want that, too. Sometimes a lie can be a good thing.
I think .
Claire turns to look at me and waves me over. I manage to smile as I ride towards her.
“Hey, are you okay?” She throws me a questioning glance, her brow bunched in concern.
“Perfect.” I wink at her, putting her at ease.
“Wanna race?”
Before I can respond, she gallops off with laughter, howling as she bends over her horse, leading it across the green fields. I flick Wrangler’s reins, cantering after her.
I’m happy to see her like this, but after seeing how Mimi and Gramps are so happy to believe the lies we tell, I realize I have to tell myself the cold, hard truth.
I’ve liked Claire since the first time I set eyes on her. The harsh reality is that Claire will probably never feel the same way about me. I guess I’ll always be the dependable friend, so I can only live in this ‘Claire is mine’ world temporarily while we sell the story.
One month to play her boyfriend. One month to show my affections without her figuring out that this is turning into something real, and having my feelings ruin our friendship.
Pfft. I wonder if fake dating is a thing ? Is there a hotline or a support group for idiots like me who fall for their fake partners? Like, 'Hi, I'm Bob, and I'm addicted to pretending to be in love with someone I'm actually in love with.'
Yeah, that doesn't sound complicated at all.
And, I know that’s ludicrous.
I’ll do my best to love her and let out all of my emotions for this one month of our fake relationship, and after that, I’ll squash all romantic feelings for her...and we’ll stay friends forever.
The decision fills me with a sense of ease. I can now be by her side without worries. I flick Wrangler’s reins harder, pushing the superior stallion to eat up the ground and catch up with the woman who’s stolen my heart.