“Because…” Her voice is softer now. “Getting paid for not doing anything feels wrong. And either way, I need to deep clean.”
“I’ve cleaned. Not sure what you mean bydeep clean, but I thoroughly cleaned.” I grin at the shock on her face and hook a finger around hers. “I did look up YouTube videos because I had no idea how or where to begin. But you don’t have to worry about anything. As for feeling bad, stop it. Don’t.”
“You looked up videos?” Her jaw falls slack and she looks around me. “What did you clean with? How did you clean? When did you?—”
I can’t help myself and cup her cheek. She feels so soft, a little cold, but very good. “I bought some stuff. Don’t ask me the names because I don’t remember what they’re called. All I know is that they’re cleaning supplies, they did the job, and the place is clean.” I did fuck up some of the furniture while cleaning but I can get it replaced.
Is it for sure clean? Probably not. I’ve never cleaned a day in my life. I’ve always had someone do it for me, but now with Anna, I can’t have her do that for me. It seems inappropriate and wrong.
“Sylas.” She looks like she’s having an internal battle, between panic and disbelief. I’m not sure why and I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for her to accept my help.
“Anna.” I slip my other hand around her back, tugging her closer to me.
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing you need to say. Just accept this new norm. Stop feeling guilty because I don’t and?—”
“But what’ll happen when you resume hockey? What’ll happen if your parents stop by and ask why I’m not cleaning? What do I do when I’m not cleaning?”
“I’ll manage. Let me handle it all, and stop worrying. Come over and hang out, and if I’m away, still come over. You like to cook and bake, so use my kitchen. Or, I don’t know…take some time for yourself. When Thea is overstimulated, she likes to bealone. If you need that, still come over. You won’t need to come through the way you usually do. I’ve already given them your name downstairs. Just have your ID with you.”
There’s a mystified look on her face. “You gave them my name? Why?”
“Because you’re my girlfriend.” God, I love that so fucking much.
“Pretend Sylas, this is pretend.” She saysthatword twice as if I need the reminder. I know it is but pretending is also pretending we’re not faking it.
“I know, Anna.I know,” I try to rein the bubbling annoyance at the unnecessary reminder. “But you’re stillmygirlfriend. And it would be weird if you weren’t on the list. My parents would suspect something.Pleasejust…” I wish I could imbed myself in her brain and replace the stubbornness with willingness to accept us. “Go with it. Let yourself let me do things for you. Please.”
She appears bashful, hesitant and I almost believe she’ll find a way to not agree but she nods. “Okay.”
I delicately rub her cheek, reveling in how soft it is and how her pupils expand.
“What’s it like?”
Her question confuses me. “What’s what like?”
“How easy everything is.”
My life in almost every aspect has been easy. It’d be shitty to say it’s not. But there are moments when sometimes I wonder if easy is worth it when so much is at stake. The way Mom and Dad could easily take everything away and not bat and eye, especially Dad. He hasn’t voiced it directly, but he’ll often make off-handed comments about me beingblacklistedif I don’t do as he says.
I don’t doubt he’d make it happen, but I also know he wants me to play. Either way, I don’t want to find out. All I want isto play hockey. Not have to marry Florence. And see where thispretendthing with Anna leads to.
What would she think of me if I told her it’s not always easy? Would that make me sound like a piece of shit, considering her situation? Maybe I shouldn’t say anything. I’ll still sound like one because easy or not, she’s having to work, and I’m not. For fuck’s sake, I’m paying her to date me because she needs the money that bad.
“I don’t know,” I answer, unsure. “Never thought about it.”
She chuckles and her eyes flutter as my palm drifts down to the side of her neck. “I’m jealous.”
“Don’t be.” I graze my thumb down the column of her neck, feeling it bob. “But I can make things easy for you, if you let me and stop being so stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn.” She pouts.
I grin. “Sounds like something a stubborn person would say.”
Amusement veils her face.
“Just let me do this for you. Trust me.”
