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Touché.
“How do you know that’s not my goal?” I object drily.
“Because you’re fake-engaged to your childhood crush who is now the sexiest, most eligible bachelor in professional sports. If you’re not attempting to reap the benefits of such an arrangement by getting him naked, we need to re-evaluate your life choices.”
Touché, again.
Okay. She has a point. And I might as well enjoy Carter while I have him, right? Besides, a confidence boost would help me navigate this whole fake engagement, and something sexy might be just the ticket.
“Let’s take it from the top,” Maggie says. “How’d you get fake-engaged again?”
“Yeah, I’d love to hear more about that,” Sutton agrees. “Walk us through it while we shop,” she adds, standing and herding us to the door.
We head to a boutique as I take them through it all, Sutton and Maggie lobbing questions at me. I tell them almost everything… except for the fact that I slept with Carter and then left him like a one-night stand last night.
“So let me get this straight,” Sutton says, holding up a slinky dark blue jumpsuit with silver threading running through it. “You’re trying to spice up your wardrobe for the guy you’re fake-engaged to? Even though you’re pretty sure that you… don’t actually like him?”
“No,” I object, miserably. “I think I have to admit that I like him. Or, at least, that I’m attracted to him. But it’s temporary. He’s just using me as a means to an end. It’s not real.”
Maggie considers the jumpsuit that Sutton’s holding and then snatches it, adding it to the pile of clothes for me to try on.
“Explain it to me again,” Maggie says. “Why couldn’t it be real? You’re gorgeous, intelligent, and an overall gem of a human being. Why wouldn’t this guy be into you?”
“Because he’s basically a sports sex god,” I say. “He’s a player through and through. He’ll be leaving for spring training in a few months, and I already caught him looking at beach resorts to jet off to once he’s through with me. And trust me, he’ll have no shortage of groupies to fill my shoes.”
“So is the sex fake, or what?” Sutton asks, grabbing a gold dress for me as she raises her eyebrows in question.
“We’re not talking about that,” I say, blushing. “The point is, any feelings I have are fake, and I was stupid for getting sucked into it.”
“I dunno,” Maggie says, shaking her head at the gold dress. “Those pictures of you two being adorable together with Santa looked pretty convincing to me.”
“And that proves my point exactly,” I tell her. “Do you guys have any idea how easy it is to get something printed in a tabloid? Like people believe anything you post. Carter’s PR just tells them things and they post it. And then Carter keeps posting stuff about us on his Instagram and poof, everyone believes it’s true.”
“That sleigh selfie he posted was so fucking cute,” Sutton says, sighing a little.
“You’re following that?” I say, whipping around.
“Of course we are,” Maggie says.
“And they’re real photos, babe,” Sutton counters. “Actual pictures of the two of you, having a great time together.”
“But we’re faking it,” I insist.
“Bet you didn’t have to fake it in bed through,” Sutton singsongs, unable to keep the grin off her face.
She’s not wrong, obviously. Just the mention of it has me reliving last night. It wasn’t just one orgasm. Not even two. Which, I’ll admit, I didn’t even think was possible.
Maggie and Sutton exchange delighted grins when I don’t answer.
Sutton says, “Case closed.”
“No, the case is definitely not closed.” I shake my head in wild objection. “What am I supposed to do? I’m letting myself get sucked into this thing, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Because of your feelings,” Maggie says thoughtfully.
“Exactly,” I admit.
“Well,” Sutton adds, “what’s the harm in having a little fun? Not many girls get to say they’ve slept with… what did you call him? A ‘sports sex god?’ So why not enjoy it a little?”
“Yeah,” Maggie agrees. “A Christmas fling. Some of our favorite book club picks were Christmas flings,” she adds encouragingly.
Hopeless romantic, that one. I’m sure she’s already imagining how my fling with Carter can lead to a happily ever after.
I’m a bit more pragmatic.
Because a fling? I’ve never been the kind of girl who can handle a fling. I’m the kind of girl who’s either in a long-term relationship or single. A fling… can I even do that?
“Come on,” Sutton says, ushering me to towards a fitting room. “Let’s get you into some ‘hot girl’ outfits. No bestie of mine is going to be caught wearing another plaid skirt on E!’s Insta.”
“Excuse me, I’ve really diversified my wardrobe—”
“Fitting room!” Maggie agrees, shoving the stack of dresses and skirts and tops at me.
And look, I’ll admit it. After a half hour or so of trying on sparkly dresses and velvet jumpsuits, I’m feeling more at ease than I was this morning. Because Sutton and Maggie are right. Who cares if Carter’s a player? I’m a player too. On a different game board, clearly. But whatever. The point is, I can play too.
