“I don’t need your pity,” she said quietly, looking away, embarrassed. I hated that.
“It’s not pity. It would be helpful since you know the city.”
“Bullshit. You can go there without a guide or translator. You don’t need me there.”
I cleared my throat again. “Okay, there’s this other thing.” I felt like a schoolboy talking to the principal. “I kind of implied to certain people that... we, uh, are a possible item.”
“What?” Her eyes widened, her breath catching.
“Please don’t be mad. Let me explain.” I inhaled. “The wife club’s always trying to set me up with women I’m not into. I mean, I am into women, just not into dating. So last time, I kind of snapped and told them I already had someone in mind... sort of... to get them to stop.”
“So you named me?”
“No, actually, Ethan and Alex did it to mess with me. They’re convinced I’m into you, but I’m not. I’M NOT, I swear.” Her face mirrored the same chaos I felt inside my own mind.
“It got out of hand. I was just trying to avoid hurting their feelings while keeping them at bay, and it just happened.”
“Are you serious? Who am I? A character in Elena Armas’s novel? Ahh...” she suddenly gushed loudly. “Am I Catalina?”
“Who?”
“Are you gonna fall in love with me, although you shouldn’t? Ahh, it’s so sad already, I can’t.” She was mocking me, and I didn’t even get the reference. That beautiful tree-tattooed angel. Once I get home, I should circle back to this entire exchange and, as any self-respecting adult, proceed to thoroughly roast myself in the privacy of my own apartment. You, pathetic soy boy.
“No, it’s just... I don’t want a relationship. I don’t need one. But it’s hard to convince people that sex can just be sex, and I don’t need someone around to spend half my paycheck and tell me to cut caffeine. I’m a big boy,” I tried to lighten the mood, taking back control of my thoughts.
“So, how would this work? I’d have to lie and pretend in front of people? Or is this some friends-with-benefits situation?” Her voice was tight with anger.
“No, no. I just said I was interested, not that we were together. So, no acting, no physical stuff. The house is set up with separate rooms for couples—I’ll make sure you and I have separate beds. All I’m asking is for you to hang out, maybe help translate some Portuguese. That’s it.” She still didn’t look convinced.
“On my end, I’m not bringing any girls to my room. Just quality time with my friends. And you,” I said, unsure how to define her place in that sentence. “I know I’m irresistible and all that, but I promise not to make advances. I might flirt a little, though. I’m just a man, after all.”
Hazel rolled her eyes, and it felt like us again—light and breezy.
“If, however, you decide to indulge your guilty pleasures, who am I to stop you?” A pathetic attempt at charm, but at least it made her laugh.
“Thank you, big boy. This has been a strangely entertaining way to end my shift, but I’m going to pass.” She stood and adjusted her skirt.
“Come on, Hazel. Just think about it.”
“Luke, first, you can have any girl to pretend to be your ‘fake Hazel’. I officially allow you to use my name. Second, I could never get that much time off work, so it’s not happening. Thanks for the offer, though.” She turned and went back to the counter, leaving me without anything else to say. I sighed, feeling both relieved and disappointed. At least I tried, right?
I got up, glanced at Hazel and Thomas in the corner, said my goodbyes, and stepped outside, thinking about her tattoo and the tired lines on her face.
8
Hazel
“Can you believe that?” I said to Thomas. I still couldn’t believe he’d offer me something like that. Yes, because I was the kind of girl who got an expensive trip to Europe with all expenses paid with a single guy who had never been in a serious relationship. Not that the last part mattered.
“Well, he has a point,” Thomas said out of nowhere.
“What?”
“Well, I don’t know the details, and even if you trust the guy, but he’s right. You’ve been working nonstop for weeks, even months.”
“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that bad.”
“When’s the last time you left on time? You always stay late, take shifts no one else wants. You’ve worked more hours this month than the new hipster boy, Dereck, in the past three months combined. You definitely deserve a break.” Thomas was spitting out facts, and I didn’t like that.
