Page 32 of Not Your Valentine
Once again, I tell myself that’s ridiculous. I don’t think everyone should stop dating and avoid relationships, but they’re not for me. I can’t handle the drama that a relationship can bring to a person’s life, and after the events of last year, it’s hard to imagine anyone could remain in love with me for the long haul.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor shoots me a concerned look, and something inside me clenches.
But I say, “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry about it.”
Whitney opens the door for us. “You must be Taylor. I’m Whitney.”
We’re the last ones to arrive. After Whitney and Taylor exchange pleasantries and he hands her a bottle of wine, I introduce him to everyone else. Though I’ve known him for longer than I’ve known my university friends, they’ve never met before; I’ve always felt weird about mixing friend groups. Feels too much like blurring the careful lines I’ve drawn between areas of my life.
“We’ve heard so much about you,” Jasmeet says.
“Uh, thank you?” Taylor says in response, and everyone laughs.
“She’s lying.” I glare at Jasmeet, feeling a little protective of Taylor. I don’t want him to be alarmed. Mind you, Taylor doesn’t tend to be fazed by such things.
“There’s no charcuterie chalet today,” Whitney says, “but I do have a fabulous cheese selection, as well as…” She takes some mini mushroom quiches out of the oven and shows them off. “What do you want to drink, Taylor? Wine, juice, tea, beer?”
Once Taylor and I accept glasses of wine, we sit down on Whitney’s cozy sectional couch. I put my arm around him. We’re supposed to be in a relationship, and people in relationships put their arms around each other, right?
For a split second, I think he’s going to cringe or freeze in surprise, but he acts like this is perfectly natural, which makes me glad. You know, because I don’t want my friends to notice that anything is amiss, that’s all.
“So, you two went to high school together,” Jasmeet says, “and you stayed in touch, but how did you start dating?” She’s directing this at Taylor. “Helen hasn’t told us much.”
Uh-oh. Maybe Taylor and I should have talked more about the details of our lie.
Thankfully, he doesn’t look perturbed by this line of questioning, “I’ve actually had a crush on Helen for many years, ever since she knocked over that Erlenmeyer flask in science class.”
My eyes widen, but I quickly school my features. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.
“I was too chicken to say anything—you know how Helen can be a little intimidating—and I was also afraid of ruining our friendship. But finally, I confessed my feelings and asked her out, and she said yes!” He reaches up to squeeze my hand, the one that’s on his shoulder, and when he turns to look at me, he winks.
Is that wink going to make people suspicious? Or is he going for one of those sexy, secretive couple winks?
Look, I don’t know anything about winking, okay?
A few minutes later, I head to the kitchen to help Whitney take more things out of the oven. She lives in a newer building, and her unit has an open-plan kitchen, unlike mine.
“I like him,” she whispers. “He’s very sweet and clearly adores you.”
“He’s right there,” I hiss, tilting my head in the direction of the living room. Yes, she’s whispering, but it is open-plan.
“So? I’m not saying anything bad about him, and he’s busy talking to Liam.”
Esther approaches us. “He does seem quite lovely,” she says quietly as she snags a tartlet off a tray. “Oh my God, that’s hot.”
“It just came out of the oven,” I say. “Of course it’s hot.”
Esther glares at me, and her attention lingers. Is she suspicious about the man I brought to today’s gathering? I can’t shake the odd feeling that she’s having trouble buying our relationship, and I tense. It would be disastrous if she confronted me about it; I’m not sure I’d be able to handle that without melting into a puddle.
But we’re doing a good job of playing our parts, right? Whitney is totally buying it. I’ll just have to do an extra-good job from now on.
I return to Taylor’s side and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He clearly wasn’t expecting it, and he startles and nearly spills his wine.
So much for that.
“Sorry,” he says. “I, uh, didn’t see you there. Didn’t realize you’d come back.”
Then he leans closer…and kisses me back. Just the briefest of pecks, but it’s rather nice. And it’s also nice how our thighs are touching.
