“Cool,” I said, nonchalantly. “And like I said before, we can still be our own people and do our own things.”
“Agreed,” she said. “We can just kind of keep things open. Like roommates who occasionally kiss when we are in public or with family.”
“Well, that’s certainly a weird but accurate description of it, yes,” I said. “Kissing roommates.”
“Kissing roommates,” she repeated.
“So, roommate who I sometimes kiss, how was lunch?” I asked.
“Freaking delicious, and I want another whole order.”
“We can grab some on our way to work,” I offered.
She nodded her head and then a look washed across her face.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I feel a little bit bad lying to our families,” she admitted.
I nodded. “Yeah, but I think in the end, it’ll be ok.”
“What about your mom? Hannah talks about her like she’s the sweetest woman on Earth.”
“She is,” I said. “But she can also be pushy, and she might not be happy we went and skipped the whole part where she gets to pester me about taking the next step. I think that’s her favorite part, actually, pushing the kids to move their relationships along. I just dropped right on into the big moment, and she has to make do.”
“I’ll make sure she feels good about it,” Chloe said. “I can charm mothers pretty well.”
“To mothers,” I said, offering my coffee as a toast. “And to more cheap tacos before work.”
14
Chloe
The last couple of days had been pretty fantastic. Most of the day at work was spent flirting and playing up the relationship to anyone who could see or hear us. I was trying not to go too overboard, lest someone figure out that we were making too much of a deal of it, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but notice that even when I was doing something to act, it felt natural. Like I wanted to do it anyway.
On more than one occasion, Matt walked by and touched my hip in a way that was somewhat chaste and yet extremely familiar. There was nothing inherently sexual about the gesture, but the feeling of his hand there, just one layer removed from the waistband of the lacy panties I wore underneath my black jeans, sent a shiver down my spine each time.
Tips were coming in pretty well, and I felt like I was getting the hang of things. No longer was I forgetting the entire table order before I got three steps away, nor was I dropping plates before they even got out of the kitchen anymore. I was developing a rhythm, and while I was concentrating on the customers at the tables themselves enough to give them good service, I was also beginning to see each table as a similar experience, getting into the routine of it.
An older couple came in and was seated in my section, huddling close in the corner booth on the same side. They had to be in their sixties and stuck out from the usual college and thirtysomething crowd that made up the normal clientele. I greeted them with a big smile and noticed that their hands were wrapped up together, and they were off in their own little world as soon as I walked away.
It made my heart warm, and I wondered if I would ever have that. Someone who would hold me close when we were near retirement and spend my days with them, enjoying each other’s company in a quiet, happy life. I sighed and tucked the order into the window when the familiar hand touched my hip again. I turned to it and met face-to-face with Matt.
Our noses were nearly touching, and our lips were just inches from one another. Our breath was heavy against each other’s skin, and he smiled. I returned the expression, and we stayed there, staring at one another for a moment before Cris at the bar cleared her throat. It broke the spell, and Matt grinned, winking before walking back into the kitchen to get the ticket.
“So, are you two just going to be whispering and giggling all night, or will I be able to make it the whole shift without gagging?” she asked in the sort of gruff way she was known for. Cris had been working the bar scene in Portland for over a decade, and not only did she add a little prestige to the place, she was also great at poking fun at us when we needed to lighten up. She had also been one of the big calming influences on me in my early days of dropping everything and forgetting more.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Cris leaned over to say something to Hannah. Both of them looked over my way, and I pretended not to notice. The rumor mill wasn’t so much a rumor mill as it was a hurricane of partially confirmed stories. Matt and I had been cagey about exactly what we admitted our relationship was, but the fact that something was going on was known by everyone.
Including Jordan.
Matt told him a couple of days ago, and it had apparently gone well. Jordan, for his part, acknowledged it when I came in the other day, saying Matt told him we were dating. Then he offered to schedule us together more and otherwise hadn’t said anything about it since. I was grateful for that.
As much as coming up with the stories and details of our fake relationship was fun, it was also alarming. The stories of our romantic dates and how serious things had become were not only believable, but they were giving me goose bumps while I talked about them, and I found myself wondering just how much of the lies I was telling were more than just acting and had gone full bore into fantasy.
Ignoring the hopeful excitement that built every time I talked about the fake
