Festive Fake

2 - Hey, girlfriend.

I stood to the side of my living room windows, stalker style, peeking through the pale blue curtains at the darkened parking lot below. As I'd expected, Laurel talked me into taking Nate to Christmas with my family and presenting him as my boyfriend.

Then somehow, when I called him last night to plan for this morning, he'd been so sweet and funny in the few minutes we'd spoken he made me feel good about my decision. He hadn't even complained about leaving so early.

Now, here he was, strolling under the streetlights toward my building, carrying a large suitcase. I'm not sure why it struck me as odd. Of course Nate packed, he'd need clothes and toiletries to spend the week at Granny's house.

Where we'd share a bedroom.

Just me and the super hot guy I'd only spoken to once.

Cheese and crackers, this was a terrible idea. Nerves heated my face as I leaned my forehead against the cool wall.

For the first time, I wished Granny was less progressive, or didn't consider my age. Sixteen, twenty-eight, or fifty, it wouldn't matter. Most of her generation wouldn't allow unmarried people to share a bed in their house.

Dad and Mother wouldn't love it, but they just wouldn't mention the sleeping arrangements. That's the way of proper southerners. None of them drink, or do drugs, or have premarital sex, as long as you don't catch them, and even then, there's a good chance they'd deny it.

It'd been a decade since I'd lived under my parent's roof, it wasn't like they knew what I did regularly—I could be leading orgies on the weekends. I cringed and then cracked up at the ridiculous thought.

Pretty sure it took a smidge more confidence than I had to be involved in something like that. Not that I'd be interested, anyway. One guy would be plenty, if I could find one worth keeping.

Focus, Liv. What was I thinking?

I couldn't ask Nate to do this, and even if I could, no one would believe it was real. How could we pass for being a couple long enough to do Christmas week together, less than six hours after meeting?

I jumped as the doorbell rang and I realized the parking lot was empty. Damn it, he walked fast.

Nate was at the door.

My pretend boyfriend Nate.

A giggle started in my throat but I pinched my lips, trapping it. As emotional as the past couple of days had been, if I started laughing, I might not stop.

Straightening the thin cream-colored sweater Laurel bought me over the whiskey faux suede skirt she insisted wasn't too short, I dashed to the hall bathroom for one last check on my appearance.

Black tights made me feel better about the amount of leg showing, and my black ankle boots were comfy and cute, no matter what Laurel thought. Makeup and hair were on point with perfect winged liner and freshly dyed auburn waves falling over my shoulders.

I scowled at myself as I remembered considering an emergency appointment at the salon. Blonde wasn't my favorite shade, but if it made Mother happy, would it really be that bad?

The answer was yes, it would. That people-pleasing, do-anything-to-keep-everyone-happy-no-matter-what-I-wanted attitude was what led to things like still spending every Christmas with your high school ex a decade later.

I might not be strong enough to put an end to that yet, but my hair was the color I wanted, and that was a start. Baby steps.

The bell rang again. I flipped the bathroom light off and tried to even my breathing as I paced to the foyer. Nate was a nice guy. He wouldn't care if I'd changed my mind. He probably had something better to do, anyway.