Pretend to be mine のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

As she settled into the passenger seat, Lucia set her tote bag down on the floor next to her feet, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. Lucas's thoughtful question had caught her off guard, and she was grateful for his consideration. After a chaotic week, she'd devoured all her emergency snacks and hadn't had a chance to refuel since a quick lunch salad and a bag of peanuts on the plane. Her stomach was growling, and the prospect of food was suddenly very appealing. “I would love that, thank you. As long as it’s not out of your way?” Oh God, she thought, please don’t let him say it’s out of his way. He laughed and turned down the radio. “Tons of stuff in between here and there. Plus I’m hungry, too. Avon didn’t give me much warning here.” She pulled off her cardigan and put it in her bag. “Same here.” He glanced at her as he changed lanes. “This was a last-minute thing—Avon couldn’t have helped it. But he was definitely looking forward to you coming.” She shrugged.

Later, as they lay together on the couch, he looked at the wreckage of his living room—three couch pillows on the floor, clothes scattered everywhere, salsa stains on the carpet. "Welcome to LA," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. She laughed and turned her face to kiss him, feeling the spark of electricity as their lips touched. The next morning, Lucia woke up to the warmth of Avon's body wrapped around hers. She felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, his arms cocooning her in a sense of safety and security. She couldn't fight the warmth that spread through her chest at the way he held her, the way he touched her. He embraced her like he meant it, like he cared. But she knew it wasn't real. He was probably always like this with women. Still, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the way he made her feel. And then, the times he touched her in other ways... holy shit, were those times amazing. She felt a flush rise to her c

Lucia woke up the next morning alone in bed. She assumed that Avon was in the bathroom, but when he didn’t get back in bed after a few minutes, she sat up and saw his bathroom door open and the light off. She pulled on his robe and wandered into the kitchen in the hopes that he was making coffee, but he wasn’t there, either. She decided that he’d probably gone for a run on the beach like he said he did some mornings. She sort of wished he’d left her a note but forced herself to shrug it off. She got back in bed with her neglected phone to check her work email. But first things first: she typed out a quick reply to a text from Diana that just said ???????? Weekend so far: having fun, eating good food, great sex, don’t wish you were here. Just then, she heard Avon’s front door quietly open and close. “Oh, you’re awake.” He’d tiptoed into the bedroom, holding two cups of coffee in a tray and a bakery bag. “I thought you’d still be asleep.” She looked at the bag, and then back to

Sure enough, she ran into him on her way into the building, a pink box in his hand. “My hero!” she said as she handed him the coffee she’d bought him. “How did you know I was going to bring doughnuts?” He eyed his coffee and the grin on her face. “I had a hunch.” She popped open the box and took out hers. “Just what I needed.” He tested his coffee for temperature, not taking a sip yet. “We all know you got lucky this weekend. Do you need to flaunt it?” She just grinned and took a big bite of her doughnut as he followed her into her office. “Before I forget, did you hear anything? Normally, I wouldn’t have even had to ask, but with you gone this weekend . . .” His voice trailed away as she shook her head. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Okay, we’ll talk about that in a minute. First: the weekend went well, I’m guessing?” He sipped his coffee and reached for his own doughnut. “It did, thank you.” She pushed all of her anxieties from the night before away

Lucia spent the rest of the afternoon first furious at Avon, then at herself. Why had she decided to text him in the middle of the day on a Wednesday, for God’s sake? Did she have to do this right when she was about to go into three back-to-back meetings where she had to concentrate and be diplomatic and pay attention? Shouldn’t she have waited to talk about this in person? After the last of her meetings, not only did she have to drive her boss home, but she made her sit in the driveway with her and talk about their transportation plan for fifteen minutes. She felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin. She was angry that she had gotten so invested in a relationship that had lasted all of thirteen days, angry she’d done all of that for something that wasn’t even a relationship in the first place, angry at Avon for being such a jackass, angry at Avon for being such a great guy for ninety-eight percent of those thirteen days, angry at herself for being on the point of tears