Serves Me Wright

“All right,” I said tentatively.

“Is that a yes?”

“Are you sure that you really want to do this? It’d probably be a whole month, right? The gala isn’t until the end of June.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

And he looked so damn sincere. Those dark eyes considering me so carefully, looking deep into the windows of my soul. For a second, it was as if he knew how much I wanted this in reality and not just as a fake date.

Then he smiled and held his hand out.

I blinked down at it.

“Partners?”

I laughed softly. Of course he didn’t see the real me underneath. It was an arrangement. A fake relationship that meant nothing else. And I wanted it regardless.

I put my hand in his and shook. “Deal.”

Part II

A Fake Relationship

7

Jennifer

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I half-opened one eye and reached for my phone. I swiped at it to silence the alarm, only managing to throw it onto the floor. I groaned loudly, but it did nothing to turn off the alarm.

“Shut up.”

It didn’t listen.

I pushed the covers off of my chest and reached for the phone. I finally hit the button to cancel the alarm.

“Finally,” I said as I flopped back into bed.

I yawned and checked the time—seven a.m. Ugh. Normally, I was up at six thirty without an alarm. I’d forgotten that I even had an alarm set. It must have been from my last sunrise graduation shoot. I was and always had been a morning person. Anything past seven felt like I was wasting the day. But today, I wouldn’t have minded a few extra hours of sleep.

I’d been at Wright Vineyard until past midnight. It might be lame, but I was usually in bed by ten and sometimes even earlier. Today was definitely going to be rough since I was also a terrible napper and I didn’t drink coffee. Which Annie thought was sacrilege.

My yawn was as wide as the Grand Canyon as I fumbled out of bed and into a super-hot shower. I blew out my brown bob—which almost reached my shoulders by now—and got into lounge clothes. I grabbed my camera and computer and headed for the dining room table, where I would likely live the rest of the day. Editing was the bulk of the job. If I was lucky, I wouldn’t get carpal tunnel for at least a decade from all the micro-clicks as I worked.

I deposited my work on the table and grabbed a banana and the cat food. Another yawn hit me full on as I went outside.

“Avocado! Bacon!” I called into the early morning.

I nudged their two bowls before pouring cat food into each of them. Everyone made fun of me for feeding the stray cats, but I didn’t want them to go hungry. Yes, they could probably fend for themselves. It made me uncomfortable to think that they might be hunting and not find food. I couldn’t do it.

I didn’t even like cats. Yet here I was. The cat lady feeding cats that didn’t even belong to me.

“Cado! Bakey!” I called again. I peered into the bushes, and two sets of eyes looked back at me. “There you two are. Come eat.”

As if they understood me, Avocado, an orange-and-white cat, and Bacon, a black cat, slunk out of the bushes and began to eat their breakfast. I stroked Cado and then Bacon before heading back inside and sitting at the dining room table to get to work.

Time moved at an unreasonable rate when I sat down to edit. Hours flew by without interruption. By the time the door opened, my eyes were bleary, and the sun was sinking.

“Annie?” I croaked.

“Hey!” she said. “How’s it going? Have you moved at all today?”

I looked around the room and shook my head to clear it. “I think I need some lunch.”

“It’s dinnertime.”

“Sure.” I rubbed my tired eyes. “I forgot to stop and eat.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Emergency pizza it is.” She pulled out her phone and started to order. “By the way, we need to talk.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I asked as I stood up. My body creaked from lack of use, and I stretched to try to release the tension.

Annie laughed. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Well, thank God.”

“Like, what would you even do without me?”

I shook my head. I remembered the first twenty years of my life without Annie Donoghue in it. We hadn’t become friends until I’d started taking care of Jason for Sutton. Annie and Sutton had been popular cheerleaders in high school. Annie was the captain, who always wore name-brand clothes and had more confidence than the rest of the school. I’d learned later that so much of it was a facade, but from the outside, looking in, I hadn’t known that.

I’d been a loser in high school. Annie and Sutton barely knew my name. I had been on yearbook and in the marching band. I didn’t play the flute anymore. The flute jokes in high school had been enough to make my anxiety peak at a young age. If my home life hadn’t done it. My parents were pull yourself up by your bootstraps people. They’d done it and expected it from their children. It had not gone well for me, especially with my undiagnosed dyslexia and anxiety.