I keep hearing her saybabyover and over. The little hiccup laughs in between each flirty exchange when she thought she was on speaker. That's the sobering thought I keep having to remind myself of. She stopped the act themomentI let her know no one else could hear. Becauseit wasjust an act.
We haven’t even been physically in the same room since we made our arrangement and I’m already realising it may have been a very stupid idea. And, yes, I’m aware it wasmyidea. I’d argue that my heart is not usually such a foolish organ. Differentiating between real and fake and responding in kind didn’t sound difficult. But when she spoke to me likethat, inthatvoice—I momentarily forgot it wasn’t real. And I felt… things. Turned on things. Little twinges of a crush long buried rising back to the surface.
Which, while ridiculous, is perhaps not a feeling to ignore. So, I’ve made a new plan. I will make my girlfriend-debut tonight. I’ll show up for her the way she showed up for me this morning, get her co-workers talking, and then call off our agreement. Before anything gets messier.
She’ll understand. Clara always understands.
With that being said, I should make a definite effort for tonight. The performance Clara gave over the phone would have fooled anyone and I owe her big time for that. Plus, she somehowdiddistract me from the most anxiety inducing situation imaginable.
I slip Bagel off my lap, fetch my hair curler and make-up bag from under my bathroom sink, and put on another past episode ofThe Bacheloretteon my laptop. Angling my bedroom mirror just right, I can sit on the edge of the bed and do my makeup without having to wear my glasses intermittently.
An hour later there’s been two one-on-one dates, a group date, a mass dumping, and I’m looking like the best possible version of myself. Hair curled in a way that looks effortless yet chic, bangs shaped so they look intentional andalmostcould pass as being cut by a professional. I kept my make-up to a minimum, just a cat eye, red lip, and light coverage that gives me a dewey, soft complexion.
I look so good that someone might actually think I was able to pull a woman like Clara. That thought alone makes pride swell up in my chest.
After making an order for take-out sushi, I pull out every dress I own and toss them on the bed. Riffling through my underwear drawer, I find another pair of black tights to replace my ripped ones. I put on a dark grey sweater dress, cinch it with a leather belt at the waist, throw on some simple stud earrings and, lastly, slip on black leather boots to match the belt.
I check myself out in the mirror one last time, reapply some more ruby red lipstick, then shrug on my velvet-lined winter coat for the cold walk towards take-out and the gallery.
Chapter Nine
Clara
My two hands are out in front of me, thumbs and index fingers extended into L-shapes, framing the piece Laurence and I just hung on the wall for the tenth time. He whines softly, and I shush him while waving a hand over my shoulder.
“Clarice! No!” He knows that isn’t my name, but he claims his “thing” is calling everyone here by a slightly different variation of their real name. Heather is Heathen, for example, which, after getting to know her for a few weeks, is kinda perfect. Loretta stays Loretta, however.
“Hush! It needs to be perfect,” I retort.
“I did not take a job at a gallery to do physical labour.” Laurence folds his arms, barely contained by his black denim jacket, across his chest and steadies me with atry mestare. “Go make yourself busy.” He shoos me away just as I hear a soft tapping knock on the front door.
“Oh, I will.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and turn on my heels towards Evan and the bag of delicious food waiting for me outside. Once my back is turned from him, I take a deep breath, centering myself as best as I can.This stunning creature waiting for you is your girlfriend! You kiss her all the time and like to rub your bits together.
What? No!
I should probably watch some girl-on-girl porn or something to at least understand the logistics of what I’m pretending to enjoy. Additionally, thatcertainkind of research may help me figure out my sexuality. Which I need to do, fast—to ensure Evan didnotenter into this agreement with me under false pretences.
Awesome.I’m either lying to Loretta or Evan. Arguably the two most important women in my life at the moment.
I unlock the door and step aside, letting Ev in. “Oh, hey,” I elongate the word, holding the “y” for far too long. “Hey, lovely.” I go onto my toes to kiss her cheek. Peach soft. “Thank you for getting dinner.” I take the to-go bag from her, which frees up her hand for me to hold. My fingers intertwine with hers and I’m suddenly aware of every millimetre of skin on the palm of my hand. It’s as if I can feel the pulse on her wrist echoing against mine—sounding off like an alarm blaringWE ARE TOUCHING.
When our hands are entirely wrapped together, she gives me one tight squeeze—bringing me back into the room.
I clear my throat. “This is Laurence Nightingale. Laurence, this is my girlfriend, Evan.”
“Bitch that isnotmy last name.” He extends his arm to Evan, who while yet to say anything meets his hand in a firm shake. “Is she also lying about your name too?”
Evan shakes her head, relaxing her shoulders simultaneously. “No, Evan is short for Evangeline, but I prefer—”
“Evangeline. Pleasure to meet you.” Laurence looks between me and the sushi in my hand twice, a polite smile with an upturned chin.
“You too.” Evan points to the chairs in the far corner of the room, the only ones in the building. They’re entirely impractical in their lowness and curvature, but it beats the floor. “Want to join us? I picked up more than enough.”
He demurely shakes his head. “No, thank you. I have dinner plans.” The heels of Laurence’s boots are loud as he walks away, heading up the stairs to the office and loft area above. “You’re done for the night, Clara. Eat and get out!” he shouts over his shoulder once he reaches the top step.
Evan flashes her eyes at me, and I giggle in turn. “Hi,” she whispers, looking down at our hands—still wrapped around each other.
“Hi.” I release my bottom lip from between my teeth, not knowing it had been stuck there. “Thank you for dinner.”
