“I amnotyour girl, Wheeler.” Sliding my hands into the back pockets of my cut-off jeans occurs between declarations. “And I am not interested in being hereveragain.”
“How about we talk about that shit?” The corner of his mouth villainously kicks upward. “See, if I can change your mind?”
“There’s no mind here to change,” is instantly declared. “No part ofmewantsanypart ofyou.” My head tilts condescendingly to one side, allowing my dark strands to brush my white, classic Uhura tank top covered shoulder. “And I do meannopart of me, Wheeler.”
That’s typically the hard sell for most of my exes.
Guess it’s my fault for allowing them to stay past their contract dates simply to have someone I could call on when I needed a round in the sack to blow off post work steam.
Being jobless is an easy – albeit awful – fix to that issue.
Which is kind of my style like crop tops and tank tops.
To no surprise, he attempts to argue, “But-”
“There you are, beloved,” interrupts my dirty blond, fake – yet very real feeling – boyfriend during his entering of the row from the right side. “Apologies for being so late I couldn’t sit beside you.” As if in his arms are the only place I’ve ever belonged, he slides one along the small of my back so that his fingers can possessively clamp down on my hip. “I keep telling myself these crises will lessen post launch next month, but I’m starting to think that’s just an unfortunate coping mechanism to deal with the constant, poorly timed calls.”
“Likely,” I lovingly tease up at him to further sell the bit.
Alright, so, yeah.
Convincing a totally hot stranger at aStar Trekfan convention to pretend to be my boyfriend wasn’t the best top of the pyramid idea I could’ve concocted; however, it wasn’t theworst.
And you know what?
I blame my brother.
Had he been doinghis partin our sibling getaway rather than lettinghis partdothe doingthen using a stranger like a cheap escort wouldn’t have been necessary!
But…admittedly…I kinda like the stranger.
The stranger who is a little less of a stranger now.
We met, scared off Wheeler, learned we’re both from Highland, and then shared a single drink while engaging in “Cadet Testing” – bar trivia – which began five minutes post our drinks arriving.
And despite my ex never popping back up, we continued to totally lean into our fake coupling for the rest of the night.
I liked leaning against him.
He liked having his arm draped around my shoulder.
And clearly, we both liked holding hands hence why we did it during the walk back to my room where I wanted to invitehim in, consummate the pretend relationship, and burn off a bit of the lingering resentment over being turned down foranotherchoreographer gig.
Not that I reallywantedto work behind the scenes on that reality show.
No.
What I want to do is cheer in the league.
Sadly, that’s no longer an option.
However, I’d be happy to take over training and choreographing for my old team.
Thatactuallyisa possibility.
You know.
If they ever call me for a second audition.
