Page 14 of Win You Over

Remington

I stretch out in bed, my naked body aching from last night’s fight and my head pounding from all the alcohol I consumed after.

I hadn’t wanted to party and had certainly not wanted to walk away from Holden.

I saw something in him during that fight, something I want to know more about.

Not so I can fix whatever hurt him, but so that I can understand him better.

And then fix whatever hurt him. Or kill the fucker responsible.

Finn is my best friend though, so how was I meant to handle the situation?

I did what felt like the right thing to do at the time, even if my mind strayed back to Holden the entire night.

When Finn had tried to climb into my bed during the early hours of this morning, his hand reaching for my cock, I’d gently pushed him away.

In his drunken state, he hadn’t appreciated me saying no – hadn’t really expected it either – and had stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind him.

As much as the thought makes my skin itch – never one for confrontation – I think Finn and I need to have a little talk about the sexual side of our relationship. Especially now that I’m going to have to pretend to be all in with Holden.

Checking my phone, I note I only have one message and it’s from my mom.

Mom : I’m not cleaning up the den after you. If you’re going to throw parties like drunken frat boys, you will clean it up yourself.

Groaning, I run a hand over my face, flinching when I brush it over the bruise on the side of my jaw. I need to shower, shave, eat and then deal with whatever awaits me in the basement, but first…

Me : Good morning boyfriend. Sleep well?

Staring at my phone, I watch the little ticks change colour, grinning as I picture Holden reading my message. His button nose scrunched up in annoyance, whiskey brown eyes soft from sleep, hair rumpled and skin smelling like sweat and sweet dreams. And…now my dick’s perking up.

Playing fake boyfriends is going to be hard…and not the good kind of hard either.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I rest my feet on the ground, the carpet soft between my toes.

I wait for a minute, then two, then five and still no reply.

Frowning, I type out another message.

Me : Hellooooo?

When he still hasn’t replied after ten minutes of me staring aimlessly at my phone, I get up and walk into my en suite, groaning at the ache in my muscles. The gnawing feeling that I’ve fucked this up already, settling in the pit of my stomach.

I start the shower, then turn my back to the spray to type out yet another message. The room fills with the sound of water hitting tiles and the air turns hazy with steam, a slight condensation settling over my phone screen.

Me : I’m sorry about last night. It was rude of me to ditch you like that. I’ll make it up to you. Forgive me, please?

The tick marks turn blue, showing the message was delivered, but when he doesn’t reply, I sigh, lean the phone on the counter and climb into the shower. Day one of fake boyfriends and I have sent it all to shit already.

In the shower, the hot, powerful spray of the jets work wonders on my aches and pains but does little to ease my mind. I can’t exactly blame him for ignoring me. It’s not really any different to what I did to him last night. Fuck.

Wiping a hand over my face, I tip my head back and let the water cascade down my body before soaping up and washing my hair. When I’m done, I dry up, grab my phone and then throw on grey athletic shorts and a tight white tank top.

When I sit on my bed, I notice there’s a reply from Holden. Finally.

Angry Kitty: You don’t owe me an apology. I didn’t expect you to stay with me. FAKE boyfriends, remember? Not real.

Me: Still, I’m sorry, Kitty Cat.

Angry Kitty : Nope. None of that. No pet names. No terms of endearment. We’re not going to be that kind of couple. Fake or not.

My lips tip into a grin. Pet names are kind of my thing, so he has another thing coming if he thinks he’s getting away without one.

Me : You sure, leeutjie ? I have so many fun names for you.

Me: I just had the best idea. We need a ship name.

Angry Kitty: Not happening. Not only is our relationship a sham, we’re not thirteen.

I ignore his spoilsport attitude as I lean back against my headboard and type out a reply.

Me: Holdington has a cute ring to it. Or Remingden.

Angry Kitty : If you refer to us using either of those names, I will hurt you.

Me: Like in a fun way?

I’d like him to hurt me in the way that gets my blood pounding in my veins, but I’ll keep that little nugget of truth to myself.

Angry Kitty: I’m going back to ignoring you.

Well that just won’t do.

Me: Fine, you win. No ship name. You coming over soon to finish this project and hang out? (You can’t say no to hanging out because that’s something boyfriends do, so…)

Angry Kitty: I have a shift at the grocery store until 2. I’ll come by after.

Me: I’ll pick you up. That’s really boyfriendly of me.

Angry Kitty: You know we only have to fake this when your family is around.

Me: I’m getting into character. If it makes you feel better, I will loudly announce to them that I’m picking you up.

Smiling, I watch the screen as my message is delivered and typing bubbles pop up. For someone who supposedly doesn’t like me, he replies pretty quickly. I bet that’s because I’m growing on him. Makes sense, like I keep saying, who doesn’t love me?

Angry Kitty: That does not make me feel better. But fine, fetch me at 2:15.

He gives me the name of the grocery store he works at, and I set an alarm on my phone then throw it on my bed and make my way down to the basement to deal with the mess.

I’m sitting at the kitchen island, eating a sandwich with Mom, when Finn walks in, having entered the house using the key he’s had since we were fifteen. He looks rough. His usually styled hair is hanging over his eyes, which are bloodshot and lined with heavy bags.

He pulls out a stool and slides in next to me before reaching over and taking the other half of my sandwich from my plate.

“Hey Mrs L. You’re looking lovely today,” he compliments my mom, then takes a bite, chewing loudly.

“Finn. Always nice to see you.” My mom’s reply is kind but curt.

She welcomed Finn into our family years ago and has never outwardly said anything bad about him, despite her dislike of his family.

When she first married my father, they were among the friends of my grandmother’s who never accepted her.

Finn turns his stool so his leg brushes against mine. Swallowing the last of the sandwich, he asks. “D’you want to go swimming after lunch? Maybe hit the gym?” Beneath the island, out of my mother’s view, his hand finds my inner thigh, and he inches it higher while waiting for my reply.

I bat his hand away then scoot myself backwards.

“I can’t today, sorry dude. I’m picking up Holden from work, and then we need to finish our project.”

Emotions ranging from disbelief to anger, to disappointment flash across Finn’s face, but it’s Mom who speaks first.

“Is Holden staying for dinner?” She slides down from her stool, straightens her skirt and rounds the island, taking both our dirty plates to the sink.

“You’re spending a shit load of time with that loser,” Finn mumbles, quiet enough for only me to hear. I ignore him for now in order to answer Mom.

“I’ll ask him. Can you make your mac and cheese if he does?”

Mom smiles, then opens the cupboard and rustles through some containers. “Can do. Let me know soon, okay?”

“Yep,” I say, standing and making my way out of the kitchen, Finn hot on my heels.

Up in my room, Finn stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest, muscles bulging beneath his black henley.

“The fuck is going on between you and Booker?” he asks.

Pulling him further into the room, I close the door to give us privacy.

“I may have told my family we’re dating.”

“You did what?” Finn’s arms fall to his sides and I don’t miss the way one clenches into a fist so tight the skin goes white.

“Why the ever loving fuck would you say that?” He takes a step closer and I straighten my shoulders, widening my stance.

Finn is roughly the same size as me, but he wears his aggression like a weapon which can make him seem so much bigger.

Though he’s never been aggressive towards me, knowing I would never stand for it, I can tell that right now he’s pissed.

“It kind of slipped out when they were asking me about a wedding date. I need you to play along, okay? Until after Nadine’s wedding.”

He moves closer, his jaw working back and forth, a vein throbbing on the side of his neck.

“Why don’t you just tell them the truth?” He tips his head, a snarl twisting his lips. “Or are you actually screwing him? Maybe that’s why he’s always here. He’s a whore for your dick.”

“Finn,” I say in warning. He advances closer and in an attempt to placate him, I let him crowd me against my bedroom wall. “I’m not fucking him. We’re pretending because I’m too much of a chicken shit to admit to Nadine that I lied. You know she’ll never let it go.”

One of Finn’s hands presses against my chest, while the other reaches for the waistband of my shorts. He leans to the side, bringing his lips to my ear.

“If it’s just pretend, then I see no reason why we can’t do this.” He plants his lips on my skin at the same time he dips a hand beneath my shorts, wrapping it around my cock. I’m not hard, but as he bites my ear, a shiver runs through me and my cock thickens in his hand.

He’s right. Holden and I are not actually dating, so this isn’t technically cheating. Then why does it feel so wrong when he moves his mouth from my ear, along my jaw and towards my lips? I can’t do this, not now, not when my mind is so focused on Holden.

“Finn, stop,” I whisper. He twists his hand again, his tongue seeking entry into my mouth.

We were eighteen the first time we kissed.

We’d both been drunk and had laughed it off the next day.

After that, it was something we did from time to time, before we soon added in the sex.

Maybe it isn’t the best idea to sleep with your best friend, but it works for us. At least it has for the last two years.

I lift my hands and place them on his chest. His heart beats wildly under my palm as I push gently, urging him backwards. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, swirling with a heady mixture of anger and lust.

“You’re serious?” He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Adjusting my cock, I tuck it behind my waistband and take a deep breath.

“Yeah. We can’t do this anymore.” I wave a hand between us, then offer him a fist. “Friends?”

He scoffs and leaves me hanging. “How low have you fallen, Rem? Sleeping with the trash.”

My hand falls, my fingers flexing at my sides. “Fucking hell, dude, drop it already. You’re better than this, Finn. This whole them/us thing is a crock of shit and you know it. What is your issue with him anyway?”

Finn’s features pinch, his eyes darting around my room and refusing to look at me.

“He doesn’t fit in here. With his ripped jeans and his ‘I’m such a sad poor boy’ attitude.

Don’t you get it? These scholarship students Warnham U takes in, aren’t like us.

Obviously he’ll sidle up to you. Richest boy on campus.

The boy who wants everyone to be his friend.

I bet Holden’s counting down the days till he’s rolling around in your money. ”

I’d laugh if I didn’t believe he was being absolutely serious.

I’ve seen Finn’s nasty side before, I know he can be unwelcoming and brash, but for the most part he’s all bark and very seldom speaks to me with such disdain.

Maybe I’m ridiculous for not noticing sooner, always brushing his attitude off as ‘Finn being Finn’ or maybe it’s because it’s aimed at Holden who has a very firm grip on me for reasons I haven’t entirely explored, but for the first time since we became friends, I get a glimpse of a person I don’t like.

There’s something else there too, lurking under his hatred. Something that feels a lot like jealousy, which is absurd because Holden isn’t going to replace Finn. Finn is and always will be my best friend.

My mouth is open before my mind thinks through my next words. “Are you jealous?”

Finn’s eyebrows raise, but his eyes are cold and hard.

“Of Holden? Fuck no.” He shakes his head and repeats his words, whether to convince me or himself, I’m not sure.

I reach a hand out towards him. “Finn. Dude, you’re my best friend. That’s not changing. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed we can’t do this,” I move a hand between us, “anymore.”

He laughs, an ugly, cracked sound that chills me to the bone.

“Get over yourself, Remington. You don’t have some magic dick. I’m not going home to cry because you don’t want to fuck me. I guess.” He pauses, finally meeting my eyes. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Daddy Langford likes them poor and desperate too.”

In all the years I have known him, Finn has never spouted his classist bullshit about my family. If I close my eyes I could picture his father in front of me, the belief so clearly beaten into Finn by our town’s dick of a mayor.

A red haze clouds my vision and I dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from punching him in the face. “Fuck you, Finnegan.” My body tenses as I take a step towards him. “Get out of my house.”

Finn steps forward, one hand coming up to grip my neck. My hand covers his, applying pressure to pull him off me. “Don’t come running back to me when you get tired of your charity case,” he spits, before dropping his hand and retreating towards my bedroom door.

“Maybe I’ll let Mamma Langford know her son is a liar on my way out,” he throws over his shoulder as he disappears around the corner.

My body slumps against the wall. Before today I believed he’d keep all my secrets, like I do his. Now, I’m not so sure.

Realistically, I know that the world won’t crumble if they find out the truth. My parents will be disappointed that I felt the need to lie and Nadine will never let me live it down, she’ll mock me about it until I’m old and grey.

It’s the selfish part of me that doesn’t want to let Holden go that has me hoping Finn keeps my secret. Because if we’re not faking a relationship, what reason does Holden have to be around me?