Fake Girlfriend (A Behzinga Fanfic/AU)(unfinished)

SIX

"I expected something completely different from you," Ethan muttered. He showed up to my flat fifteen minutes late, then immediately looked around to see if there was something he could judge. "It's quite boring if I'm honest."

I frowned. "Thanks. Anyway, I need to clear out that entire guest bedroom and also straighten up the living room. Take your pick of what we do first."

"Guest room," He pulled off his jacket and hung it up on the hook by the door, cracking his knuckles. "Let's make this quick, yeah? Nice outfit by the way."

I looked down at what I was wearing and blushed, realizing it was probably too casual for guests. I had on black sweatpants and a white tank top with a sports bra underneath.

"Let's just get this over with," I pulled my hair back in a messy bun before walking past him and into the guest bedroom. He followed me in, so I pointed at one of the heavy boxes that sat at the end of the room. It was filled with art supplies, and I needed anything that suggested I was an artist in my studio. "Do you mind lifting that?"

"Where do I put it?" He asked. He rolled his broad shoulders back before he bent down and lifted the box with ease.

"Down the hall, in the room with the door closed. I'll work on packing everything else up in here."

He nodded and left the room, so I took down the last of my paintings and sighed, sitting down on the bed and putting my head in my hands.

Why was it so hard to please my father? If one thing was out of place, I'd never hear the end of it. I had to be perfect.

"I couldn't help but notice," Ethan's voice came from the doorway and I looked up. He was leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest. "That room down the hall is what I imagined this whole place to look like. Is there a reason for that?"

"You tell me," I shrugged. "Sounds like profiling to me."

"Funny," He raised an eyebrow. "I take it your dad doesn't like your career choice?"

I bit my lip. "Eh."

"What does he think you do?" He stepped into the room and sat down on the bed next to me.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine, don't tell me," He laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "I don't care anyway."

"Good," I yawned. "Then you'll help me get the rest of this stuff out of here before tomorrow."

"He gets here tomorrow?"

"I didn't say that," I yawned again before resting my head in my hands. "Let's just...just..."

He chuckled for the first time ever, but I was too tired to say anything about it. "Tired, Ms Wright?"

"Nope," I laid back instead of standing up, though. "Maybe. I'll be fine once I make some coffee."

"Do you sleep? Ever?"

I shrugged, closing my eyes. "Just do me a favor and put the rest of the paintings in the other room then leave. I'll do the rest by myself."

"Oh, about that," He looked over at me. "I may need another small favor from you."

I sighed. "I know where this is going. Let me guess, your mother wants me over for dinner or something."

"Lunch, actually," He muttered. "I don't like it any more than you do. But it's not until a few days from now."

"Fine," I spoke quietly and turned to meet his hazel eyes. "You should go, enjoy your day. It's supposed to be nice out."

He tried to suppress a smirk. "Don't sleep through the week, Rebecca."