Ex-Periment: Fake-Dating My Sister's Ex

Chapter One

Tiara

A sheath, a trumpet, an empire waist…

What do you wear for a wedding that spells… ‘back off’ in bold capital letters?

Going through the dresses on my bed I sigh inwardly and raise a copper sheath dress to the mirror. Ugly enough. But not exactly classy. I want something that says classy in a I’d-rather-be-anywhere-but-here style.

My sister – Ciara – is finally getting married, choosing to stay with the son of the billionaire she was having an affair with last year. As if the world needed any reminder that Ciara Lemptons all but public-fucked a man thrice her age.

Maybe if I choose not to go for the wedding she wouldn’t notice?

Who am I kidding, she definitely wouldn’t notice. I could hit her up the next day with a ‘lovely dress yesterday’ text and she would probably reply with something like ‘whatever’ without ever knowing better.

But my mom and her dad … and my dad would definitely notice my absence. The dried up daises next to the watered roses.

Sighing again, loudly this time, I grab another dress, a mauve trumpet, and hold it up at my reflection.

How are all of my dresses this ugly? I should’ve planned this earlier, I should’ve bought something. It’s only two days to the wedding and I don’t have a fuc—

My phone buzzes quickly and I grab it from under my pillows to stare at the screen. It’s a text from Melody, my longtime best friend:

“Don’t wear the mauve dress, Tee. I’m damn serious.”

I scowl at the screen and hit her with a middle finger emoji, before dropping it back beneath the pillows.

She’s lucky, she can literally wear an old sack and still end up looking like a snack with her gorgeous African body.

I pick another dress, and dump it without even looking twice at it. It’s a fluffy dress my mother bought for me a while ago, with artificial feathers on the cuff and neckline. She bought the same dress for Ciara and made us both wear it for her open house party two years ago. The fashion the gown appeared smug on Ciara’s flawless form and loose on mine made her a highlight for the media.

And me too. But not for the same reasons.

I hate that dress and without my feelings towards the fabric, I can’t even wear it if I tried. My backside has gotten slightly rounder during the past two years much to Melody’s delight.

The doorbell chimes loudly pulling me away from my thoughts with a pang.

Striding out of my cozy bedroom, across the living area and to the door, I make a mental list of the people I might be expecting today. Naturally, I’m not expecting anyone but if I have to place a bet on it, I’ll put all my money on Melody. She’s one of our friends from college and the most likely to appear unannounced on my doorstep than any of the other four and lawd I hope she has something I can borrow.

I turn the doorknob and pull the door open. “Hey I hope you’ve got so—”

The words dry in my throat as the face in front of me registers to my suddenly foggy brain.

Dark hair, dark eyes, the kind of roguish face a sculptor would literally kill for. A half smile flits across his lips. “Hey Tee.”

“Wha…” the words trail off my tongue, “Ryan?”

He nods, unbothered, as if he totally expected my mouth-drop reaction.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks past me to my cozy apartment. “You’re not gonna let me in?”

Shaking myself mentally, I step aside to let him in, the shock of seeing him still resonating in my core. It’s been what? Two whole years? And – I size him up as he walks past me – I didn’t think it possible but somehow he is even more… hotter.

He takes in my apartment in one glance and turns to face me. “You live in the city. You usually let people into your apartment without first checking who they are?”

“Yeah uh…” I rub my sweaty palms on my baggy pajamas, “I actually thought you were Melody.”

Holy fuck! I’m still in my pajama bottoms and the slightly see-through cami top I usually sleep in. I hug myself instinctively and his eyes rake through my body stopping for a brief moment on my nipples.

I blush widely and turn around to close the door.

He clears his throat. “Melody? Geez,” I turn back to see him run a palm through his dark curls, “she’s going too?”

Distractedly, I notice he said ‘going’ instead of ‘coming’. I raise a brow. “You’re not attending?”

He gives me a rueful look. “What do you think?”

Well, for starters, I think he shouldn’t be here, in my apartment, making me all uncomfortable and squirmy. And I also think he shouldn’t be talking about Ciara’s wedding. Isn’t there some kind of unwritten rule where you should never talk about your ex’s marriage?

“Y’know,” he starts strolling around, leisurely running his palm across the quilt on my couch, “I actually thought you weren’t gonna make it to the list too. But I spoke with Jackson yesterday and he said you’ve been invited.”

I nod. “Lucky me. I’m her sister, she’s gotta invite me,” and in my thoughts, I add, “even if she doesn’t want to.”

He gives me a one over. “Yeah right.”

I shrug and stand there awkwardly, squirming under his stare, waiting for him to say something.

His voice is eerily quiet when he says, “You’ve changed a lot, Tee.”

I shrug again, self-consciously this time. “It’s been two years, Ryan.”

He smirks. “For you.”

My brow slightly furrows in confusion. What does he mean? I should be the one saying that, because even though he hasn’t seen me in two years, I definitely have seen him, with all the rest of the New Yorkers who are hooked up to the tabs. Ryan Shelby, son of CEO Shelby who had somehow, branched out and made a name for himself.

He is tall, handsome in that way that makes you do a double-take, and eventually a triple-take, and he is all lean muscles and athletic build. He has always been the media’s favorite, even while we were at college and once he and Ciara became a thing, it was all about them for two years straight.

I shuffle my feet and head towards the kitchen, needing desperately to get away from that stare. “Want something to drink? Coffee? Uh…” I turn and give him a knowing smile, “vodka?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, Tee, I almost never touch vodka anymore. Also, I need a clear head, for what I’m about to do.”

I stop my walk and give him my full attention. “What you’re about to do?”

“You’re about to find out.”

“Okay…”

“First things first, you’ve got to know,” he contemplates for a second, and then shrugs, “your sister doesn’t like you.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Wow, I didn’t already know that,” I can’t stop the sarcasm dripping from my tone, “tell me something I don’t know.”

“You don’t get it. And I can’t explain. I dated her for two years, Tee. She resents you. You basically stole her parents from her, you stole part of her life, and well… you get the idea.”

Again, something I had always known… but hearing another person say it…

And he is wrong too. Ciara and I, yeah we didn’t like each other, but there were times when we… tolerated each other. Maybe even liked each other. After all we are only one year apart and we went to the same schools – and since she had to start school a year late –  we stayed in basically the same classrooms till college. We had the same friends, had the same college experience and – hey, technically I didn’t steal her parents. Well maybe we share a mom, but  I’ve got my own dad. The one person I don’t have to share with Ciara.

But hearing him say it like that, like I’m some piece of clothing she resents makes me wish I made that coffee earlier, just so I can pour it all on his arrogant incredibly beautiful face.

“Why are you here, Ryan?” I ask him instead, my voice steady, “It’s been ages. And all of a sudden you show up here and act like the last time we spoke was yesterday.”

He sighs and walks up to me, staying a good five feet apart but still somehow managing to tower over me. “Tee,” he starts, his dark eyes pleading, “I’m here because, well, I need a favour.”

It’s hard to hold on to my anger after seeing that look on his face. How can I? We were friends for almost a year before he got to meet Ciara and it’s just not fair that I keep on blaming him for not reciprocating the feelings I had for him back then.

“Tell me then. What kind of favour are we talking about here?”

He steps forward, then repeats the process again, and again, until he is standing not less than two feet away from me. “This is gonna be weird as fuck but Tee,” he pauses until my eyes look up to meet his stormy ones. “I need you to be my girlfriend.”