The Pretend Girlfriend

Chapter Thirteen~ Is it Just Business?

Beatrice finally begged off later in the afternoon somewhere in the area of 2 PM. She tossed her paper latte cup in the recycling bin on the way out.

She waved at them, and Gwen and Aiden watched her disappear down the street. As soon as she was gone, Aiden dropped his arm from Gwen's shoulders, sighed, and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

The absence of his arm left a cold strip across her shoulders that she tried to ignore.
"Wow," Aiden said, "And you've been friends with her for how long?"

Gwen pulled her latte across the table and looked down into the cup. It was almost half full still, but cold. And she still felt hungry. Aiden had gotten their drinks, but they never got like lunch they wanted. Not as though they could have anyway, what with the sheer volume of words escaping Beatrice's lips.

"We met in first year," Gwen said, wondering whether to swallow a few mouthfuls of the lukewarm beverage anyway.
She wanted to get back to her apartment and gobble down a few of those PB& J sandwiches she'd been intending on making before all this started.

"And has she always spoken at such length?" Aiden asked. While it was okay for Gwen to be irritated at her friend, it wasn't okay for Aiden to be.

"Yes, she does talk a lot. You don't have to talk like that, you know, all proper and grammatically correct. No one's here testing you." If Aiden heard the annoyance in her voice, he pretended not to notice.

"See, now that is something they teach you at Harvard: the importance of precise language. And, speaking of language, why don't we discuss the contract like we originally meant to?"

"Only if we can finally get some food. I'm starving! Aren't you?" Gwen said.

"That sounds good... I'll go get us some wraps and we can eat while we go over the details."

"No! I mean... Yeah, but can we do it back at my apartment?" Gwen said, choosing not to mention that she had her copy of the contract in her purse.
Maybe he would forget that she'd grabbed it and agree to go back just based on that alone.

"Fine. It does get a little tiring, being out in public, having to keep up appearances and all that," he said. They grabbed a couple wraps and headed back.
Gwen told him that he could go grab a seat in the living room while she went to her bedroom to hang her purse back up and throw her keys on the desk.
But Aiden followed her in.

"Can I help you?" she said, feeling defensive. Also , a touch embarrassed at the state of things.

Her bed sheets were still in a tangle , and a large pile of dirty laundry made the corner its home. He leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets as he examined the space. Nothing really seemed to grab his attention until he saw the Big Ben poster on the wall by her desk.

He nodded at it. "Have you ever seen it? In real life, I mean."
Gwen slid a fingertip down the smooth surface of the print, as though she might somehow reach through it and find herself in London, craning her neck back to take in the famous clock tower.

"No. Maybe someday," she said.

"It's actually much nicer in person. You simply don't get the scale of something, the reality of it, from a picture."

Why is he still in my room? Can't he just go sit down like I asked him? She kept her back to the bed, afraid to look at it.
Afraid that might draw his attention, and that he might ask her what the story was behind the mess. Which was ridiculous, she knew.
No one ever asked questions like that. And no, he couldn't read her thoughts, either. But whoever said fears had to be rational? No one who's ever been afraid of something.