On My Own Pretending He's Beside Me Novels & Stories

He was off the stage now, swirling his drink in one hand as he listened lifelessly to a man before him. When he was done there, he mingled with a small crowd at the edge of the room. I tiptoed around him, throwing myself into his light of sight, pretending to admire the decor or sip my drink. He made a light joke and I laughed, loud enough to be heard but not annoying. He didn’t look. Not once. I opened my clutch and took out a small bottle I got from Maya and sprayed it lightly over my neck and hair. Then, as if by accident, I stood beside him, my back to his and flicked my hair across his face.

My fiancée and my best friend were the top partners at a multi-million-dollar law firm, while I was just the guy handling the administrative work. In the courtroom, they were in perfect sync, trading fierce legal arguments and sharing an effortless dynamic. In their personal lives, they casually flirted through law jokes that only the two of them understood. I could never get a word in, edge-wise. Every time they laughed, I offered a painfully awkward smile. Even at my mother's funeral, nothing changed. They chatted merrily in front of her coffin, eventually breaking into audible laughter. “Clara, can you greet the guests?” I called out to her. I was the only child in the family, and a

“But I didn’t know how you take it.” He poured half the container of cream into his coffee and shook in few sugar packets. She looked from the pale brown liquid in his mug to the unadulterated blackness of her own and laughed. “I would make a ‘I like my coffee the way I like my men’ joke, but it would be either inaccurate or just really dirty.” He put his arm up next to her mug, pretending to be injured. He saw the smile on her face and relaxed. “Now,” she said, uncovering the room service plates, “let’s eat some bacon so we’re all fortified for round three and a half.”

“I'll do it.” Not just because he wanted it. That was part of the reason. The main one was to feed that delicious thrill I had felt at his words. I drew up from the bed, with the vibrator in hand, and strode over to my dressing table. “Don't forget, I need you to pretend I'm not here. Take care of yourself as if you're alone.” “I know.” I stood, looking at myself in the half-length mirror. I looked just like I had imagined, hair like a bird had nested in it, face pink and eyes a little hooded. I looked fucked.

“I was outside.” “That counts.” He laughed softly. “You really don’t like not knowing where I am.” The truth was, I didn’t. Not because I doubted him. Because I had spent too much time imagining a world where I looked away for one second and lost something important. I sat beside him. “You’re right.” His expression changed slightly. “You admitted it?” “Don’t get used to it.” A smile appeared on his face. “There he is.” I looked at him. “What?” “The Fort who pretends he doesn’t have feelings.”

I reached for my phone in my bag, but my eyes flew to him again, and for some reason I itched to walk across the room and slap that handsome face of his for acting like I'm invisible. No matter how obviously I stared, he didn’t keep eye contact. My toes tingled, my belly tightening because I knew he was close. He knew I was looking. Yet he's pretending not to notice. “Come on, Rene, take those photos. We're going to get you in.” Mike cheered on, and I took out my phone, pretending to take pictures, but I zoomed in on Damian's image. My fingers stiffened, my breath ragged, as he lifted his head.

I look up, leaping to my feet without taking it because on top of being completely humiliated, I'm trying my best to act unaffected by the sharp pain in my tailbone. His face changes and for a moment he looks distracted. I turn away, pretending to read my schedule as he walks past me. He waves his hands, shooing away the now larger group of snickering onlookers. "Okay, everyone, show's over." Everyone scrambles like they've been caught fighting in the hallways and I'm secretly grateful, pretending to read my schedule while trying to act oblivious. He turns around, walking straight for me, and I'm able to get a better look at him in my periphery. The confidence in his stride is impressive and

soon I realise that he is planting kisses on my back causing me to shake more like a leaf. He rests his hands over my shoulders causing me to shrink down in fear with guarding up my head with my hands. " Please don't do this now. My body is paining " I was pleading to him in panic when he came in front of me to make me stand properly and pulling my chin up to look at my face. " Do what? " He teased being aware of the fact that I lost in the pretence of showing strong self. Why is the need to pretend strong? Because if by any chance I show him how much he affects me by his all means. Then after that, he will take advantage of it for sure.

I lose myself in it, in him, and believe—even if it's for a second—that all of this is real and let him chase the last shred of doubt from my mind. Cheers erupt from the crowd. Someone whistles, inciting more laughs and clapping. I can forget that this group is full of gun-wielding soldiers. I can even forget that none of my friends or family are aware of what I've done. But I didn't do anything. This is all pretend. Right?

I hadn't realized how far I’d let myself walk in as I watched him stroke himself. I hit the light in the bedroom before jumping into bed. I pull the blanket over my head and lie there as I try to calm my rapid heart. I listen to him in the bathroom while he gets ready for bed and pretend to be asleep. I hold my breath, wondering what he’s going to do next, and I’m not sure what I want him to do. A few moments later, the bed dips, and he climbs in on the other side. An arm wraps around me and pulls me across the bed until I’m flush against his big body.