Can't Fake The Feeling Novels & Stories

*Butterfly weed is still my favorite flower, Ron. His hands loosened and slumped on her shoulders. “Sia.,” he whispered as he placed his trembling hand on her left cheek. Tears streamed down Sia’s cheeks. Sia grasped his hand and said, “Yes, I am Sia.” He suddenly removed his hand and whispered, “You are lying, aren’t you? How can you come here.” She threw herself in his arms and said, “Someone can fabricate my voice, even my appearance but they can’t fabricate the way I make you feel. Can’t you feel anything, Ron?”

I continued, "You two are the masked puppeteers, plotting, deceiving, and trampling genuine emotions underfoot." My voice wasn't loud, but my declarations landed like sledgehammers on Jessica's conscience and those smug faces who had mocked me. "That's nonsense!" Mark shrieked, desperate to deflect the accusation while jabbing an accusatory digit at me. "Your old man's lousy ring. For all we know, it's counterfeit. Explains why Ms. Lane disowned you. You're nothing but a discarded..." A resounding slap cut off his vitriolic tirade.

Zane’s arms around my waist, my smile that looked more like a grimace. ”You look like strangers being forced to hug for a hostage photo.” I took a quick glance at Zane, but he remained expressionless. My eyes fell back on my hands, staring. ”I’ve produced twelve seasons of reality television,” She continued, her voice rising, that professionalism cracking. “I know when two people have potential. I know you have to fake it.” She leaned against the desk. “But you’re so bad at it.” ”We’re trying. I’m sorry i—“ I tried to water down her anger but she cut me off.

“Now I’m not sure if I’m using you or if you’re using me or if we’re both doing both and it somehow cancels out into something real.” A server passed by with champagne. Vane took two glasses and handed her one without breaking the rhythm of their dance. She drank it even though she’d been planning not to. The alcohol tasted expensive and cold and like a mistake. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “Do what?” “Whatever this is. With you. I know how to fake things. I know how to be whoever someone needs me to be. I don’t know how to be actual.” “Then don’t be,” he said. “Just be. Let me figure out the rest.”

The type of panic someone has when their favorite toy is being taken away. “So you need to stop all of these dramas you’re trying to put up,” I added, keeping my tone steady, “because it doesn’t work for me. Not even a bit.” He swallowed hard, opening his mouth to speak again, but I had already shut the ears internally. At least by now, I should be able to differentiate fake from real when I see one. And everything he was doing — from the way he barged in to how he suddenly became “gentle” was all fake. It's that plain and simple.

At first, she thought it was a temporary problem, however as years passed by, things worsened that she was unable to feel him anymore–not even when he tried to f*ck her like hell. Simultaneously, she feared to disclose her issue with him, fearing to hurt him. How could she say she doesn't feel his d*ck inside her? That was a lame excuse, right? With that in mind, she had to pretend like she felt him, desired him and wanted to be with him. She had to fake her moan, fake her c*m, and fake her desires as well. But the fact remained–she never came, never felt him nor wanted his d*ck near her p*ssy.

“Do you think he has fallen for you yet?” “I think he is starting to.” “You better start working faster.” “Yes, I know, you do not need to remind me about our bet.” “You only have a month to let him fall in love with you.” “Yes, and to say I love you.” I can feel my heart drop, I knew this was fake, but I did not think it was fake from both our sides. Is the player finally being played himself? Why is this feeling so funny? Why does it feel that I just got hurt?

"You wake up every night at 3 AM and check the security cameras. You've lost fifteen pounds because you forget to eat. You're teaching Michael to speak Spanish because you're terrified he'll blow our cover with English. You're struggling as much as I am." I couldn't deny it. "Okay. Yes. I'm struggling. But Marissa, what choice do we have? We can't go back, can't move forward, can't even stay still without feeling like we're dying inside. So we pretend. We fake it until it feels real." "And if it never feels real?" "Then we fake it forever. For the kids. For each other. For the life we're building even if it's on quicksand." She was quiet for a long time, rocking Sophie gently. "The woman at

And we never knew about it all this time. My knees feel weak like hell right now. Suddenly, I feel as if the wholesome of blood is being drained out of my body. The word fake makes me feel that my whole world is crumbled right now. I feel as if I am crushed between thousands of rocks and I have no other options rather than being weathered. “Xavier too?” I ask. “Yes, he too. He knew that this is all fake too,” she says. She says it with so much confident and that confidence of her breaks me from the deep down.

Just coordinates, dropped like a soldier’s orders. I stared until the screen dimmed, pulse thudding in my throat. Fake dating. It had sounded clinical when we’d agreed last night, but seeing it spelled out in black and white made it real. Real enough to make me feel like I was about to step into a storm I couldn’t control. ⸻