Page 25 of Meet Stan

“Do you think they’re buying it?” I repeated with emphasis, my smile fading. “Us. As a couple.”

“Oh.” Realization—and disappointment?—sprang into his eyes. “Yes, I think you’ve done an excellent job. Your act would convince anybody.”

Something about his tone suggested that he’d been reeled in by my performance as well. I certainly had forgotten it was fake somewhere along the line. But had I done a good thing, or a bad thing by reminding us both of the terms of our unusual contract?

“I need a drink,” he said, leading me off the dance floor by the hand. He handed me a glass of champagne from the table where they awaited guests’ pleasure.

“Put your arm around me,” I said under my breath while taking a sip. “Here comes Chandler.”

We had agreed Chandler would be the hardest of all the partners to convince. He knew the two of us the best, after all, and might even be looking for some kind of scheming from Stan.

Stan slipped his arm around me, his hand resting at the small of my back. His little fingertip rested just barely in the start of the groove of my ass. I glanced over at him, lips slightly parted, a bit of alarm in my gaze, hoping he would take the hint and move his finger.

He did. He nestled it in a little bit deeper, and then Chandler was there and I couldn’t call Stan out on it.

“I heard, but I didn’t really believe until now.” Chandler shook his head. “The disparity in emotional maturity between you two makes this hard to swallow.”

Fuck. Was he just busting chops, or was he seriously onto us?

“Hey, what can I say? She makes me want to act more like a grown-up.” The sincerity in Stan’s tone was so convincing it startled me. Either he was one hell of an actor, or he was feeling the same murkiness I was experiencing.

“In that case, the two of you have my blessing.” He took a glass of champagne and moved on. “Congratulations.”

Once Chandler moved away from us, I disentangled myself from his grip. I wasn’t angry at him, I was angry at myself for getting carried away.

“Do you think we can go soon?” I asked, a bit sullen.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Stan said, confused. I had fended off his advances. I actually wasn’t averse to the idea of sleeping with Stan again—I just didn’t know what to make of those feelings in light of our fake relationship contract.

He chose not to comment on it. We made one final round of the party, which meant I had to slip back into my sweet girlfriend role. It maddened me at how easy it was to take back up. What was this, our third ‘fake’ date? And I was already starting to blur the lines between fantasy and reality.

He held my hand on the way out of the shower, all the way to the elevator. As we rode down in the car, we sort of awkwardly stood apart. Like we weren’t allowed to touch each other without an audience.

As soon as the metal doors slid silently open, he took my hand again. He helped me get into the limo and then the ride became eerily silent, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. He obviously was just going to let the silence fester. I was going to have to do something about it.

“That was more like a ball or a gala than a baby shower.”

Relief spread over his features.

“I know, right? But that’s the way they wanted it. One last hurrah before they trade in the tuxes and evening gowns for bibs and spit-up.”

“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “Good luck with your hairless howler monkey. Why would anybody want one of those?”

“Masochists,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Total masochists. Must be the only explanation.”

“I thought masochism involved rubber hoods and weirdly shaped dildos.”

“Sadomasochism, maybe, and I’m not sure what that has to do with kids?”

I gave him a look and shook my head.

“I think it has everything to do with kids—as in the sex act that conceives them. I mean, who am I to judge? Sounds like a victimless hobby to me so long as it’s consenting adults, right?”

Stan’s grin changed pitch just a bit before he spoke.

“The rumors are Mason and Megan played around with remote control vibrators in public.”

“Yeah, I could see that,” I said. “I mean, I guess you shouldn’t knock it until you try it, right?”

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