Excerpt from “Forgettably Yours”

We still hadn’t reached our destination, so Jack released my hand and turned on the radio while I sat silently, stewing in my thoughts. My brain was screaming at me to wake up. There was no part of this that was normal.

What was wrong with me? I felt like a lovesick teenager with a silly crush. Something was very off. I usually avoided physical contact with people, especially those that I wasn’t close to. Yet, here I was, practically playing the adult equivalent of ‘house’ with a man who was largely still a stranger to me. A man who was all too comfortable touching, carrying, kissing me. Who felt too familiar, too fast. Who had already tried to ingrain himself into my life after a few short days. If I wasn’t careful, he’d work his way into my heart, too.

The romantic notions that I tried so hard to suppress jumped for joy, screaming that I could have a taste of what it must be like to live in a modern fairy tale. But common sense reminded me that this was a temporary arrangement. And one that honestly benefitted him the most in the long run.

I needed to protect myself. He was a notorious philanderer – I saw the evidence for myself, plastered across the internet. I kept reminding myself that he was not my boyfriend or love interest. His ease with physical affection was probably honed through years of womanizing. It meant nothing to him, so it should mean nothing to me. And he already showed me firsthand what a skilled and creative liar he was. Instead of allowing myself to internally swoon around him, I’d do better to consider his actions those of a con man who didn’t realize that the con was up. I was on to his game, so it was time to set some boundaries if he expected me to play a part in this farce.

I turned down the radio, drawing Jack’s attention from the road. “If we’re going to sell this whole ‘fiancé’ situation, we need a plan.”

He nodded, focusing on the road again. “I agree.”

“Good. And I want to set some ground rules.”

His nodding stopped, replaced by a look of displeasure. “What kind of ‘ground rules’?”

“For starters, I don’t like being touched.”

He rolled his eyes, scoffing. “You certainly didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

“I was being polite.” It wasn’t true. I had enjoyed it…for the most part.

“No, you weren’t,” he scowled.

“We can agree to disagree. Just like real couples do.” I turned and shot him an overly saccharine grin. He must have seen it out of the corner of his eye, because he rolled his eyes again.

“One minute you’re holding my hand. The next you’re telling me that you don’t like to be touched. Bipolar much?”

Questioning my mental health was not a joke to me. “I was trying to show you how real fiancés would act,” I snapped. “Must’ve done a good job, because you thought that was genuine.” In the moment, it had been a genuine reaction, but I already regretted it.

“You’re clearly much better at faking things that I am,” he scoffed again. “Why don’t you keep educating me on how ‘real fiancés’ would act?” There was no way to miss the spite in his tone.

“For starters, any physical contact should be reserved for when we’re in public or being watched. When it’s just the two of us, keep your paws to yourself.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I thought you just said that you didn’t like to be touched.” His argumentative tone made me think that I had just hit a nerve.

“Real fiancés should be physical to some extent.”

“Oh, is that right?” His annoyance was making me wonder what the hell I had been thinking when I hoped to spend more time with him. “What kind of ‘physical’ should they be?”

“The kind that suggests to people who are watching them that they’re actually in love. Or, at very least, can stand each other.”

“Got it. So, you’ve got an imaginary force field around you when it’s just the two of us. But if anyone else is around, I can put my ‘paws’ on you.”

“What’s your problem?” I snapped. “You’re ruining my life because you told a bunch of lies to get what you wanted. I never asked for this shit. You could at least treat me with a little respect.” My inner fire was reignited, and I was ready for a fight.

“What’s my problem? You just flipped a switch on me and went into bitch mode.”

“Did you just call me a ‘bitch’?!” I was livid.

“I didn’t mean it like that–” It was too late. The word had already come out of his mouth.

I cut him off. “I’m a bitch because I don’t want you to feel like you have free license to be grabby with me. Am I understanding that right?”

“That’s not what I meant–” I put my hand up to stop him again.

“I don’t care what you meant.” I stared angrily out the passenger side window, fuming in silence.

“Come on,” he purred. He reached across the armrest for my left hand, trying to hold it. “I’m sorry.”

I snatched my hand away from him. “Were we not just discussing you not touching me?!” I exclaimed incredulously.

“I was trying to practice for when we’re in public.” His damned smirk was back. He was actually enjoying this! “We’re almost there.”

“You don’t get to practice anything without my consent. Do you understand?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.”

“Good.” I was finally starting to calm down when he began laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“We just hit our first milestone.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “What milestone?”

“Our first fight as a couple,” he turned, grinning.

I couldn’t help laughing at how ridiculous it was. “I guess we did. Do you think that we’re going to make it?”

“I give us a few months, tops,” he chuckled.