One Week Girlfriend part 1

that what we’re doing, this fake relationship we’re taking part in is nothing but a job for her. “You’re right.”
    Stupid me. I was hoping she’d rescue me because she wanted to.
     
    Fable
     
    This house is as big as a museum and just as cold too. It’s beautiful, quiet and immaculate, with a hushed quality to it that truthfully scares me to death. The door clicks shut behind us with a finality that sends a chill down my spine and I follow Drew down a wide hall covered with various family photos I plan on studying later. I hear voices coming from the room at the end of the short hall and then we’re there. In a giant living room with an entire wall of windows that overlooks the ocean. I can see the white-capped waves from beyond the glass, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
    Drew doesn’t even notice it. He’s too focused on the two people sitting on the couch, the both of them drawing their long, thin bodies from the plush dark brown velvet and approaching us with quick steps.
    Nerves eat at my stomach and all of a sudden my hand is clasped in Drew’s, our fingers interlocking. The show of affection startles me for a moment, but then I remember.
    I’m his girlfriend. I’m playing a role and so is he and we’re doing it for these very people who are now standing in front of us with expectant looks on their faces.
    “Andrew. It’s so good to see you. You look positively delicious.” The stepmother says this and I find the compliment odd. Who calls their stepson delicious?
    Drew doesn’t like it either, I can tell. He lets go of my hand and slips his arm around my shoulders, hauling me in close to him. I collide against a warm, solid body and tingles wash over me. He’s as hard as a rock and I have no choice but to slip my arm around his waist and cling to him for dear life. Not that I’m protesting.
    This is all a diversion to avoid his stepmom’s hug. She has her arms out and everything but she drops them to her side, the pouting disappointment on her beautiful face clear. And when I say beautiful, I mean stunningly gorgeous. Her near-black hair is long and straight, hangs almost to her waist. Her cheekbones are sharp, her skin a warm olive color and her eyes espresso dark. She towers over me and with her slender build I can’t help but wonder if she was once a model.
    “Is this your little Fable?” Her condescending voice sets me on edge and I stiffen my spine. Drew spreads his hand wide across the small of my back, his fingers pressing into me, and his touch is reassuring.
    “Yes, I’m Fable. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out and she shakes it with a disdain that’s palpable, dropping my hand quick as if it’s covered in shit.
    What’s this bitch’s problem?
    “Fable, this is Adele,” Drew introduces us grimly. “Adele, this is my girlfriend.”
    He puts extra emphasis on the word girlfriend, and a flicker of disgust shines in Adele’s eyes. As soon as it’s there, it’s gone.
    “Drew.” The man standing at Adele’s side is like an older version of my so-called boyfriend and I’m impressed. Drew is going to be killer handsome when he’s still in his forties or fifties if he ends up looking like his dad.
    Something that’s close to affection crosses Drew’s face and he lets go of me to briefly hug his father. But just as quick as he lets me go, he has me again, his strong arm wrapped around my waist and his fingers resting at my hip. It’s a very possessive grip, one that I can’t help but find all sorts of hot, and I need to remind myself that this is fake.
    Drew doesn’t want a girlfriend. He doesn’t seem to like girls. Makes me wonder if he plays for the other team.
    I shoot a glance in his direction, drink in all that dark hair and those intense blue eyes fringed with thick eyelashes. Such a shame if it’s true. What a loss for us girls.
    “Dad, this is Fable. My girlfriend,” Drew says again and this time my hand is shook warmly, though the assessing gaze his father settles upon me makes me slightly uncomfortable. I’m being judged and I know it. I’m used to that sort of thing when I’m at work because hey, guys check me out. It comes with the barmaid job.
    But this older man is contemplating me in a way that’s discomforting. It makes me want to squirm and get the hell out of here.
    “How was your trip?” Drew’s dad asks once he finally tears his eyes away from me. I almost sag with relief.
    “Easy drive.” Drew