The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 26

Still, what is a girl to do but carry on with the precious mementoes in her life?

Brian finds himself thinking of Sam when he's supposed to be concentrating on something else. Like this really boring ad presentation, for example.

"And so, it's PERFECT," the enthusiastic young exec says, tapping the mockup, "the perfect cream for the perfect woman."

He beams as though he has just found a shortcut to the fountain of youth.

Brian feels like burying his face in his hands. Or better still, burying the young exec under a mountain of PERFECT cream. Who the hell copyrights a name like PERFECT anyway?

"And that's supposed to make me run out to Nordstrom, throw down my credit card and shell three hundred dollars out for it?" he says caustically.

"Uh, sir, with all due respect, you're not the target audience for this copy."

"I'll tell you who the target audience is for this synthetic tub of goo that's the chemical composition of something you don't really want to know. It's the imperfect woman. Where the fuck did you get the idea that women are perfect anyway?"

"Uh, sir ... they do strive for an ideal - "

"I take it that you've never lived with a woman before?" Neither has Brian, but he's not going to let that on to the gap-toothed kid who obviously hasn't started shaving yet.

"I live with my mother, sir. And I'm gay."

Brian rolls his eyes. "Astounding. Take it from me, kid. Women aren't perfect."

In fact, he has known that all along. It's just something which has never really occurred to him before, kind of like a thesis on the air he is breathing that he suddenly has to write about.

He takes a deep breath and goes on, "They're highly strung, sometimes whiny and they do impractical, irrational things ... such as asking their ex-school bully to be their pretend boyfriend to their sister's engagement party over the weekend."

The young ad exec blinks, clearly lost in this thread of conversation.

"Or taking the dance floor by storm even when they can't distinguish somebody else's toes from their own."

He's aware that Sam's face has invaded his mind now, pretty much in the manner of alien thought control.

"Or fussing over their hair and worrying about it being too curly when it's the most glorious thing on the planet. Or throwing a hissy fit when you've masturbated in your shared bed the night before and exploded your cum all over your sheets."

The young exec's jaw is on the table. "Oh wow, I never knew women were like that, sir."

"Yeah." Brian shoves the pile of prints across the table. "Go back to school, kid, and come back when you've fucked a woman. And if you can't get your dick up for one, try living with her for a weekend."

Fuck. Now he's getting all weird.

It's all Sam's fault. She has gotten under his skin somehow. Wormed in when he least expected it.

Now if only he can get Samantha Fox and her imperfect life out of his head.

Brian's smile stretches wide.

"You seeing what I'm seeing?" Caleb yells above the din.

"Yeah. Kismet."

"It's almost like you described it back at the party. Only Sam is not dancing with a dude with greasy hair and a T-shirt that says - "

"'FUCK ME GENTLY'," they chorus.

And laugh.

Brian shrugs. "What can we do?"

His feet are still rooted to the spot.

"I don't know about you," Caleb says, "but I'm going down there."

Brian watches his best friend weave through the throng to go to Cassie. Caleb taps a delighted Cassie on the shoulder. She swings and registers genuine surprise. They hug and begin to dance together.

Sam is left floundering, but not for long. A dude with a shock of hair - which is unfortunately not greasy - cuts in to dance with her instead.