Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Fuck you,” I say in a low, soft tone.
He squints as he blinks his eyes open. “Excuse me?”
“You’re one of those people who manages to look good even when you sleep. So annoying.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he reaches a hand up, flipping me off.
“So weird,” he says, closing his eyes again for a second. “Had a dream we were married. We were, like, a decade older, and you were outside swimming in our backyard pool, naked.”
Suddenly I feel like there’s a hot, molten core at the center of my chest.
“Definitely weird,” I tell him, getting out of bed and not looking toward him any longer. I gather some clean clothes from my backpack and head toward the door. “Going to go shower off.”
The hot water beating down over my skin is the antidote to feeling like a prisoner in my own mind.
Why the fuck would he have a dream like that?
And what am I doing to him if I’m causing dreams like that to even be possible for him?
He can’t think about those things.
Or else I’m doing something very, very wrong and convincing him I’m someone I’m not.
I shove the idea of it out of my head. Just because Ollie dreamed about us being a real couple doesn’t mean he’s deluded himself into thinking it’ll happen. He’s smart. He knows the score.
He has to know that it’s impossible, too.
The idea of being married to Oliver may as well be like dreaming about winning the lottery. Sure, it could be nice, in a world where it was ever viable.
But he deserves a life like this.
A man who comes from a loving family, just like he does.
Not someone like me, who will only make his world worse.
I get dressed in a white long-sleeve thermal shirt and force myself to remember what I’m here for. I’m basically a paid actor. I act like I’m Ollie’s boyfriend, and I’m paid by being able to film him doing sexual things. Which… has turned into just doing sexual things, and not always filming them, but fuck it.
I have to put on my mask.
The invisible one I wear in real life, now.
And today I’m going to absolutely nail the role of Perfect Boyfriend.
Downstairs, the immense feast that Cheryl is cooking up fills the air with incredible smells. I head down first while Oliver takes his turn in the shower, and there’s already cinnamon rolls coming out of the oven.
For the entire day, I feel like I’m in a movie.
A normal, family-oriented Christmas day is something I’ve never had before. My mom would usually buy me plenty of gifts, and we always had an artificial Christmas tree that Mom’s housecleaner would set up near one of the front windows.
But there were no other festivities.
Nothing like this.
All day, there seem to be new layers of the Ashford family Christmas that reveal themselves. In the morning, it’s food and presents. I brought small gifts with me for each member of the family, simple ones like tea, chocolates, or a candle.
Cheryl got me and Oliver matching reindeer sweaters, which I reluctantly pulled on over my long-sleeve.
When midday comes, a few of Oliver’s aunts, uncles, and cousins show up, and the whole house turns into a bigger gathering. Everyone wants to know how I met Oliver, and we make up a cute story about being high school hockey rivals that secretly had crushes on each other.
And the whole family seems completely unaffected by the awful events with Emily last night. She’s happy, although she’s chugging electrolytes to stave off a hangover. Cheryl and Victor don’t seem to show any signs of animosity.
The whole family wants to have a good day together.
Imagine that.
At night the living room becomes a game room again, and along with all of the cousins, we take turns trying to beat each other in trivia and racing video games.
In some moments, I feel like I’m part of it all.
Other times, I feel purely like an observer.
This is what a real family can be like.
And when I see Oliver interacting with his family members, smiling, laughing, hugging new people who come in…
I know that this is what he deserves.
He’s so good, like this.
Surrounded by warmth.
Love.
And one day, I know he’ll want something like this of his own. The dream he had about me, where we lived together and he saw me out in the backyard pool…
It’s not the kind of life I’ve ever pictured for myself.
I’ve dreamed of being a jet-setting model, flying out for photoshoots in Tokyo, Milan, Paris, or New York. I’ve dreamed of penthouses overlooking glittering cities.
I’ve never thought about anything like this. Because when would any of this be available to me, anyway?
In truth, I’ve always felt like a monster.
Known I’m a monster.
And when I’ve felt like I’m behind a glass cage all my life, manipulated or gaslit or forgotten… how am I supposed to trust anything in the real world?