Almost yours

ch-3 just pretend

His hand was still in mine.

That was the first problem.

The second problem was that neither of us seemed to know what to do about it.

I looked down at our joined hands.

Then up at him.

He followed my gaze and immediately pulled his hand away.

Fast.

Very fast.

I almost laughed.

Interesting.

For a man who was supposedly my boyfriend, he behaved like holding my hand was illegal.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked.

“No.”

“Then why did you let go?”

His jaw tightened.

“Your hand was cold.”

I blinked.

“And letting go was supposed to warm it?”

Silence.

My actual boyfriend coughed, probably hiding a laugh.

His best friend shot him a murderous look.

I bit my lip.

Okay.

Maybe fake amnesia had one small advantage.

I could annoy this man as much as I wanted, and he couldn’t even complain properly.

My best friend stepped closer.

“You should rest. You’ve been awake for too long.”

I looked at her.

Yesterday, I would have believed the concern on her face without thinking twice.

Now every word sounded fake.

“I’m not sleepy.”

“But—”

“I want to talk to my boyfriend.”

Silence.

Again.

I was beginning to enjoy how easily that word destroyed the atmosphere.

My actual boyfriend glanced at his best friend.

His best friend looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

My best friend forced a smile.

“You can talk tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?”

“Because you need rest.”

I turned toward my fake boyfriend.

“Do you want me to rest?”

His eyebrows pulled together.

“What?”

“I asked you.”

He glanced at my actual boyfriend.

That irritated me.

“Stop looking at him.”

His eyes returned to mine.

“You’re my boyfriend, right?”

His expression darkened.

My actual boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah, of course.”

I ignored him.

“I asked him.”

For several seconds, the man beside me just stared.

Then he said quietly, “You should rest.”

I smiled.

“Okay.”

Everyone looked surprised.

“What?” I asked. “Apparently, I listen to my boyfriend.”

He closed his eyes briefly.

I turned away before he could see my smile.

Maybe I was enjoying this too much.

But after what I had heard outside that door, I deserved some entertainment.

My actual boyfriend checked his phone.

“We should leave.”

Of course.

Cheating was probably a very busy job.

My best friend immediately nodded.

“I’ll come with you.”

Too fast.

I looked between them.

“You’re leaving together?”

Both froze.

“No,” she said.

“Yes,” he said at the exact same time.

Oh, beautiful.

They looked at each other.

My boyfriend quickly corrected himself.

“We came together. I’ll just drop her.”

“Oh.”

I smiled sweetly.

“How nice of you.”

His best friend looked away, but I saw his jaw tighten.

At least one person here had a conscience.

My boyfriend moved toward the door.

“We’ll visit tomorrow.”

“We?”

He stopped.

I glanced at my best friend before looking back at him.

“You said you’re only my boyfriend’s friend. Why do you need to visit me every day?”

His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

My best friend rescued him.

“Because we care about you.”

I looked at her.

Do you?

I wanted to ask.

Instead, I smiled.

“That’s sweet.”

They started walking out.

My fake boyfriend followed.

“Wait.”

He stopped.

Slowly, he turned.

“Yes?”

I pointed at him.

“You stay.”

My actual boyfriend nearly walked into the door.

“What?”

I looked at him innocently.

“What?”

“Why should he stay?”

I stared at him for two seconds.

Then deliberately looked at his best friend.

“Because he’s my boyfriend?”

His mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

Nothing.

Perfect.

His best friend rubbed a hand over his face.

“I can’t stay.”

My smile disappeared.

“Why?”

“I have work.”

“You didn’t miss work when I had an accident?”

Something shifted in his expression.

“I came as soon as I heard.”

The answer came so naturally that I almost forgot our relationship was supposed to be fake.

My actual boyfriend quickly added, “He was out of town.”

I looked at him.

“Did I ask you?”

His mouth snapped shut.

My fake boyfriend almost smiled.

Almost.

“I’ll stay for a while,” he finally said.

My eyes returned to him.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

My boyfriend looked surprised.

So did my best friend.

Interesting.

“Great.” I settled back against my pillow. “Then you two can leave.”

They didn’t look happy about it.

Even more interesting.

Once the door closed, silence filled the room.

My fake boyfriend stood near the window.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

Five seconds passed.

Then ten.

This was painful.

“So…” I said.

“So?”

“That’s all?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be my boyfriend.”

His expression changed.

“Stop saying that.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

He stopped.

I waited.

“Because what?”

He looked away.

“Nothing.”

I studied him.

This was the same man who could argue with me for twenty minutes over absolutely nothing.

Yet now he suddenly couldn’t form a sentence.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

He sat in the chair beside my bed.

Not close enough to look affectionate.

Not far enough to look uncaring.

I decided to make his life harder.

“How long have we been dating?”

His head snapped toward me.

“I don’t know.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t know how long you’ve been dating your girlfriend?”

“I mean…”

He paused.

“Six months.”

I almost laughed.

Six months?

Creative.

“How did we meet?”

“Through him.”

Technically true.

“Who confessed first?”

His entire body stiffened.

I leaned forward.

“You or me?”

“You.”

My mouth almost fell open.

The liar.

Me?

Absolutely not.

Even if he were the last man alive, I would make him confess first just out of principle.

“What did I say?”

He stared at me.

“You said you liked me.”

“That’s boring.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t sound romantic.”

“You aren’t.”

The answer came instantly.

I narrowed my eyes.

“There you are.”

“What?”

“The guy who insults his girlfriend.”

“I didn’t insult you.”

“You called me unromantic.”

“You once gave someone a birthday card with the price sticker still on it.”

I froze.

So did he.

That had happened.

Two years ago.

At my cousin’s birthday.

“How do you know that?”

His expression changed.

He realized his mistake.

“I was there.”

I tried to remember.

Yes.

He had been there.

Standing near the balcony most of the evening.

I barely remembered speaking to him.

But he remembered my stupid birthday card?

“You remember strange things about me.”

“No.”

“You literally just did.”

“It was embarrassing. Hard to forget.”

I rolled my eyes.

There he was again.

The irritating man I knew.

His phone suddenly vibrated.

He checked it.

Whatever he saw erased the small trace of amusement from his face.

“I need to go outside.”

“To talk to my boyfriend’s friend?”

He gave me a long look.

“Yes.”

He left.

---

My actual boyfriend was waiting near the end of the corridor.

“What took you so long?”

“She was asking questions.”

“That sounds like her.”

His best friend’s expression hardened.

“You don’t get to say that.”

“What’s your problem?”

“You.”

My boyfriend sighed.

“Not this again.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“You already are.”

“No.”

“Come on. Just pretend for a few days.”

He looked away.

Pretend.

Such a simple word.

Except nothing about this felt simple.

“You hate her anyway,” my boyfriend continued. “That’s why I chose you.”

His fingers slowly curled into a fist.

He had never hated her.

Not even once.

That was the problem.

He remembered meeting her years ago.

She had been laughing too loudly, talking too much, and somehow making everyone around her laugh too.

He had liked her long before his best friend asked her out.

But he had never said anything.

His best friend was like a brother to him.

So he stepped back.

He became distant.

Cold.

Sometimes deliberately rude.

If she thought he disliked her, keeping his feelings hidden was easier.

At least, that was what he had told himself.

Now the same friend was asking him to pretend to have the one thing he had spent years forcing himself not to want.

“I trust you,” my boyfriend said.

“You shouldn’t.”

He laughed.

“You can’t stand her. She can’t stand you. There’s zero risk.”

If only he knew.

“I need you, man.”

He should refuse.

He knew that.

But if he walked away, his friend might find someone else.

Someone she didn’t know.

Someone who might actually take advantage of her supposed memory loss.

At least if he stayed close, he could make sure she was safe.

It was a terrible excuse.

And somewhere deep inside, he knew it.

His friend waited.

Finally, he spoke.

“Fine.”

My boyfriend’s face brightened.

“Seriously?”

“One condition.”

“What?”

His eyes turned cold.

“No one hurts her.”

My boyfriend frowned.

“Relax.”

“I’m serious.”

Something in his voice wiped the smile from his friend’s face.

“If I do this, you don’t get to treat her like something you can throw away and pick up whenever you’re bored.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then my boyfriend shrugged.

“Fine.”

His best friend turned toward my room.

He hated this plan.

He hated the lies.

And most of all, he hated himself for the tiny, selfish thought he couldn’t silence.

For the first time…

He would get to know what it felt like to be hers.

Even if it was only pretend.