Fake Date Number Three [Short Story]

Date Number Two

Apparently this was an overnight thing. As a bridesmaid Frances had to be at the wedding venue, a resort in Anilao, the day before the ceremony and of course as her driver and "boyfriend" he was supposed to be there too. Sebastian knew that when he said yes, thought about it only in practical terms of what to pack and what time to pick her up, but the reality did not sink in until he saw the one bed.

It was a very nice bed, in this very nice private cabana, at the very end of the resort, facing the beach.

After he tipped the guy who brought their bags in, he closed the door and saw Frances with her head tilted at an angle, noticing the same thing he had. Sebastian's body tightened, so aggressively that for a moment he was confused whether he was bracing in self-defense.

"I'll take this side," Frances declared, pointing.

He followed her hand with his eyes. "That's the middle. You're taking all of it?"

"About that." Frances turned to face him, stepped closer. He was beginning to recognize her scent. He knew, of course, that she smelled nice, but there was the intimacy of the three hours they'd just spent in his car, and this wasn't just that she smelled nice, but the awareness of her even if he had his eyes closed. "We'll be here for two nights and it's our third date."

Oh. Right. "You know what happens on the third date," he said, the joke telling itself rather quickly. "Sometimes. If people on the date want it to."

She blinked. "You mean sex?"

He blinked. "It was—I was joking."

"What was the joke? That you want to?"

Shit. What? "I didn't say that clearly so can we start again? Are you asking me something?"

"Do you want to have sex this weekend? You and me."

"Frances."

"Yeah?"

He searched her face for any sign of what it all meant. And it was just her radiant beautiful face looking at him, the exact same way it always did. Like she was asking him if he wanted a soda. If it was raining outside. No big deal. "Do you want to?"

"Well, yeah. I mean this is a nice place to do it. And I want to."

This conversation had the distinction of somehow both being hot and a little bit off, for Sebastian. He loved how she was talking about this so frankly. If they kept going he knew he'd be aroused to the point of pain. They would get started right here.

He wanted to. What else was there to think about?

He cleared his throat. "Fran. Yes."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh. Okay. Want to go out and look around?"

It took a lungful of fresh seaside air to get him to figure out what was off, what he was concerned about.

This was their third date. Sex was another level of intimacy, sure, and definitely a new level for the two of them. But he also had been her friend for years, and knew how she was about sex. Fran enjoyed it, wasn't too hung up on it. She put it on the table today like it was no big deal, because it wasn't.

Frances was still on her single streak.

Her fake boyfriend was probably going to get factually dumped, and very soon.

***

On their second fake date, Fran almost decided it was a bad idea because...feelings. And she had no one to blame but herself. She did not have to bring a date to the Estrella extended family holiday dinner. So what if she was single? She was always single, all those years, all those holidays, and nobody bothered her. No, she invited Sebastian because she wanted to show him off. She wanted him to play the part. After the first date, they went back to coworker/friend mode, and while he continued to dress well and be himself and walk around like a snack, Frances selfishly wanted more of the extra things.

The touching. The closer-than-usual hugging. The looking at her like he was planning a birthday surprise.

None of this was necessary but no, she wanted to treat herself, so suddenly he was going with her to her grandmother's house the day after Christmas. Eating baked salmon and answering her tita's questions about maps (Sebastian liked maps) and urban sanitation (he was working on water projects). He was good as a fake boyfriend, so good that everyone accepted that he was her boyfriend because why else would his hand be on her hip like that? Why press his lips into her ear whenever he had to say something private? Why dare call her "my Frances" in casual conversation, unless he had the right to? Her relatives bought it, bought it full price.

The point of the fake boyfriend at the family gathering was for him to perform for the family, and she hadn't actually gotten any alone time with him until way after dinner. Alone time in theory, because they really were just on the other side of the backyard and her cousins were still at the picnic table, doing tequila shots.

None for her.

Somehow she and Sebastian were standing there together, and no one was coming over to talk or offer them anything. Somehow his arms had gone around her, bringing her close, and she was trying to watch the sky rather than focus on his face. His face looking at her like he cared. Such a good actor, shit.

"I'm going to kiss you, okay," he had suddenly said.

"Okay."

"Just saying. Be ready."

"No, you be ready."

Surely that was a show for the relatives, or something. They hadn't kissed the whole time. Maybe someone in her family thought he was too good-looking for her, and kissing on the mouth was going to convince that last skeptic. She almost wanted to say it didn't matter if anyone in the house was skeptical; there was nothing at stake here really. She had only wanted to feel like his girlfriend for a night. Again.

Then, kissing. Real kissing. Fake boyfriend but real lips, real mouth, real tongue, and Frances had tried the entire time to be alert and aware of how far this should go. How much to enjoy it. How far to stick her tongue into his throat—well, she had not been so restrained there. Then she'd remembered where they were, and pulled back.

Her face must have been so flushed.

"I love you," she thought he'd said. "Frances."

She had blinked.

"Come in, you two. There's cake." Frances's grandmother's voice had come from behind her. When Frances had turned to look, her Lola Cring had the warmest, happiest smile on her face. She looked happy that someone loved her apo. Frances's lifestyle, her "single streak," her choices weren't always understood by those around her, but then she remembered why bother with this charade. There was no harm in letting them think that Frances was loved. She didn't need this, but maybe they did. Maybe they needed to see it in action, see her bask in its warmth.

That was nice of Sebastian, to go that extra mile. For her lola.

She'd squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. "That was so quick of you. I didn't even know she was there. You're so good at this, boyfriend."

The next part is the last one. Thank you for reading!