My Imaginary Boyfriend

My Imaginary Boyfriend *First Time

When he's just a breath away, I close my eyes tightly and turn my head away.

Caleb pulls away, so I open my eyes. He chuckles as he faces me in amusement.

Anger boils up inside me. "Everything is a game to you, isn't it?"

He blinks. "Would you rather it was real?" he asks. He even has the nerve to look innocent.

"You jerk!" I grab my pillow and throw it at him.

He grins as it lands on his head. Why does he have to be so annoying? I hate it when he plays around, as if nothing can ever make him serious.

Caleb raises his hand and is in the act of throwing the pillow back at me.

"Get out of here!" I yell.

I thought he wanted to take care of me? His actions are only making my condition worse. Instead of helping, he's irritating me.

"I was just trying to make you laugh," he says, raising both hands in surrender. "You're so tensed."

"Stop it already, you're making my head hurt!"

He scratches the back of his head and mumbles an apology. The nerve of this guy to joke around when I'm in a bad condition; I'll get back at him when I get better.

"Seriously though," he says, interrupting my plot against him, "we have all day. What do you want to do?"

"You can go out now," I say, "I can take care of myself."

Caleb pouts. "Don't be angry!" He looks at me under his eyelashes.

I roll my eyes at him. "If you think you can persuade me by trying to look cute, just go away. I won't be affected by your charm."

He grins. "Are you not, really?" He clears his throat and stares at me. "I'm sorry," he says seriously. "Will you let me take care of you?" When I don't respond, he adds, "Please?"

I sigh. "Fine," I mutter.

He smiles. "Thanks!"

"But if you make fun of me again, I'll throw you out."

He smiles amusedly and then says, "Are you hungry?"

"No," I answer.

"Margarett left some food," he says.

"I said I'm not hungry," I say wryly.

"If you're not game to do something, and you don't want to eat, then let me ask you a question."

"What do you want to know?"

"What's your favorite childhood memory?" he asks.

"I don't remember much of my childhood."

"You don't?" he asks.

It's the truth because I can only recall bits of what happened in the past. Actually, most of my time in the orphanage is long forgotten. I don't even remember my friends' faces.

Even Alex's.

I can't go there.

Blinking my eyes, I see Caleb staring at the top of my head.

"What are you looking at?" I ask.

He moves closer to me and grabs a piece of my hair. "Look," he says in amazement, "you have blonde hair."

My eyes widen at what he said. I push him away, and run my fingers through my hair.

Caleb frowns. "How is that possible? You're black haired."