It's not like I find the thought of kissing Ophelia distasteful. Truthfully, it's quite the opposite. Ever since she'd talked about doing kinky things in lingerie, it's been on my mind. She's on my mind. Frequently. I can't help that—I am human after all. But I never thought about doing it for show.
I'd been so focused on the logistics of becoming a US citizen to enable the trade. On talking with Coach Janssen and packing my apartment and asking Tony for the hundredth time for the contracts to sign that I didn't think about the actualmarriagething. Or making people think we're married at the very least.
Ophelia and I will definitely have to have a longer conversation once her friend leaves. It's probably wise to put some parameters and stipulations in the contract that keep this a strictly business relationship, especially knowing some of the other thoughts I've had about her.
No, this shall stay strictly business.
With public displays of affection.
Her hand seems small in mine. I reckon I don't view her as overly petite, probably because her personality and spirit seem to fill any room she's in. Her whole energy is the opposite of mine. In the past, I used to find perpetually-in-motion people grating. However, with Ophelia, it's … amusing. Entertaining. Distracting.
Attractive.
She reminds me of the way a kestrel flaps its wings to hover over prey. Still, but with a flurry of activity.
And with my life in the pot right now, I need the distraction.
"Marley, we're going down to City Hall for a three-thirty appointment. Do you want to be our witness, but more importantly, do you want to help me figure out what to wear?" Ophelia glances up at me, her hand warm in mine. "Are you okay if Marley comes with us, babe?"
Nicknames, is it? Though not one for the games typically associated with dating, it's imperative I play along. "It's fine by me, my little chickadee." It seems fitting since she reminds me of a sparrow hopping about here and there. I give her hand a little squeeze before dropping it.
If I'm not mistaken, I see her nose wrinkle slightly. I don't know why, nor do I have the energy to guess. This charade is enough for me to manage.
Marley's mouth opens and closes a few times as she looks between us. "But … this … this can't be real. You barely know him!"
"It is, Mar." Ophelia flops onto the couch next to her friend. "When you know it's the right thing, you know. Why wait?"
Marley takes her friend's hands in her own. "Ophelia, you've had a rough few weeks with Trent and ClikClak and everything. Are you sure?"
I see her give me the side-eye.
"Is this the safest decision? You don't have to do this."
I wander over to the other side of the room by the desk. I appreciate the care Marley has for her friend. I will not appreciate it, however, if she talks Ophelia out of this. When I talked to Tony last week, he said this was my only shot at getting traded now. I need to get traded.
The thought of staying in Baltimore has me almost as low as I was after the Phaedra debacle.
Yet when I'm in the same room with Ophelia, that feeling seems very remote.
Ophelia stands up and walks over to me, standing behind me and putting her hands lightly on my arms. "I want to do this." I turn to face her, and her hands return to my biceps.
She continues, gazing at me. "From the first message, I was smitten. How could I not be? I've never had a connection like this with anyone. Ever." Ophelia turns her head to look at her friend. "Mar, you've known me since we were little. When have I ever fallen like this? I don't believe in insta-love. Hell, you know I hate that trope. So for me to do this, you know it's gotta be big."
Ophelia, looking deep into my eyes, is so convincing that I almost forget that we're virtual strangers about to commit fraud and that there are no real feelings here. Unable to help myself, and not acting in the least, I smile at her, and she returns the expression. My hands have found their way to her waist, so I pull her closer to me, digging my fingers in slightly. She's soft and sensual without even trying.
"Ugh, get a room." Marley throws a couch pillow at us, breaking the moment. I deflect the flying object, and it bounces off Ophelia's desk, scattering papers and books.
Both Ophelia and I reach to pick up the mess. Her desk is never neat, to begin with, but now it looks as if a cyclone went through. I shuffle a pile of papers together and pick up a purple notebook.
"I'll take that." Ophelia snatches it out of my hands. I wonder if that's the book she's scribbling in whenever she thinks I'm not looking. What could be so important in there that she doesn't want me to see? "Marley, can you help me figure out what to wear?"
They dash off down the hall. I too should figure out what to wear. The lion's share of my wardrobe is activewear, and even most of that is in storage. I did have the good sense to keep my Armani suit with me in case I needed it for an interview, thus making the decision easy for me.
I text Tony again.
Me: Headed to City Hall in a bit to finalize this thing. Any progress on the paperwork?
I'm sure it's not a big deal to go forth with this project. If there was any reason why I shouldn't, Tony would've called me. It took him virtually nanoseconds to send over a draft contract. I hope the delay in the final copy doesn't indicate a complication.
