Authors: Z. Elizabeth
My heart pumped hard as I took the last few steps towards my groom. I finally reached him and gave my bouquet to Kelsie, before kissing my father’s cheek and turning towards my future husband. Just as we rehearsed last night, my father lent forward, a death grip on Craig's hand and whispered something to him I couldn't catch, but Craig looked over at me and nodded, a sad smile overcoming him.
Shit.
What the fuck had he just said to him?
With my panic pushed on full mode, my father left Craig with a pat on his shoulder, and with a kiss on my cheek, Craig's eyes burnt back into mine. He took my hand in his kissing my palm softly which caused butterflies to erupt in my stomach and an
aww
from the crowd. My cheeks blazed a red blush and Craig let out a small chuckle. I had forgotten about the guests and a quick look out to the sea of people, I spotted my mother, who had a look of distaste across her face. Thank God she was in the first row so no one could see her bitch face. Then a swift look over to John – Craig's father and Karen – His auntie. John didn't look impressed either and Karen looked impassive. Jesus, everyone was hating this day already. I wondered how his mum would feel if she was still here. She died 9 years ago, when we were 13 years old, from cancer. I desperately want to know how he was feeling, but shit, this wasn't the time nor the place nor any of my fucking business. This was a business deal between two adults and in a year and this would all be over. I swallowed the lump in my throat over thinking about his mother and the year ahead and faced back to Craig. Before he let the Vicar start the service, he leant forward, and kissed my cheek, whispering how beautiful I looked and smoothed away a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. Another blush rose up.
“You aren’t husband and wife yet.” I heard Rob say and Craig let out a hearty chuckle; turning towards the Vicar, my hands entwined within his.
“Let’s make this bride mine then.” He replied back, winking at me, “Let’s make her Mrs Thomas.”
11 & a half months left
Nic
When I was a kid, I used to think a year was too long. 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days. The past few weeks have flown by, much to my dismay. I keep praying that they will slow down, but apparently
He
has other plans and wants the year to fly by. Six weeks we have been married and it's hard to keep up with what is real and what isn't right now. Craig and I have gone from enemies to lovers, or should I say pretend lovers. It's been a whirlwind year, a fast-forward of everything fake but what hasn't been fake is my love for Craig. My heart is Craig's and to everyone else, his heart is mine too. But our love for each other is a show. A show for a simple means of collecting a large sum of money at the end of the marriage thanks to a deal our Grandparents blackmailed us into making, but first, in order to obtain it we have to put on a united front, show everyone we are the real deal. Our love is the real deal.
We keep up the pretence of being happily in love. When we go out we hold hands, and snuggle and kiss and act like two teenagers who cannot live a second without one another and at times it pisses off our friends with how we act. We tell them it's the honeymoon stage and that they will feel and act this way when it's their turn to tie to the knot. They'll turn even mushier when they get a ring on their finger and a shared last name. All in the name of love, hey?
But back at home it's another story for us.
Back at home Craig turns up the heat, and I don't mean on the thermostat either. His touch burns my skin, his intense looks burn holes through me, and the way he knows how to please me makes me lose control; makes me forget exactly who I am. One touch and I am putty in his hands. But right this minute it makes me feel like utter shit and this has been happening since our wedding night; when Craig kept his promise and ripped the dress from me in this very room. Yeah, Craig moved into my flat as I point-blank refused to find another just for the twelve months when I had already been living here a year. I was adamant I was not moving out of my flat, plus it's a five minute walk to Kelsie. A girl needs her BFF close to her. And the beach. The beach which was a glorious twenty minutes walk from my apartment. You won't find cheaper nor closer to the beach. So here we are. Craig moved in with me, his crap all over my flat and the beginning of our married life starting with a bang...quite literally.
And now, as I turn towards my husband lying on the bed, his trademark smirk planted across his smug face, I want to punch his lights out and tell him that this is never happening again. I wish it could be the truth. It's been six weeks and I've given up counting how many times we have tumbled into bed. With a sigh I roll off the bed, and step into clean underwear, before crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him.
“I still hate you, you know?”
“Sure you do, sweetheart. That's why you pushed me away after the first orgasm.” His smirk grows, “Oh, sorry my mistake, I forgot that you wrapped your legs around my head and begged me to fuck you,” he crudely says back. And I can't snap back because that is the utmost truth. I was actually begging him for more;
Yes, Craig, right there, Craig, harder, faster, deeper
. You name it, I scream it. He knows exactly how to play my body and he knows I fucking love it. This is why I can't deny what he says to me, no matter how much I want to.
I scoff at him, letting my eyes scan over his body. His dark brown curls are a hot mess sticking to his head, his blue eyes twinkle with mischief and sweat glistens on his rock hard abs. Abs that I kissed and licked not only an hour ago. Confidence oozes off him and I know he's watching me pry over him and he knows why this keeps happening. Why we just can't stay away from each other and keep falling into bed every chance we get. Why the little touches and the glances end up with us grabbing each other and ripping clothes off.
But this can't keep happening.
We can't keep fucking, because it's fucking me up.
It's messing with my head and I don't want to feel things.
The feelings I have for Craig are so strong that I've tried to push them to the back of my mind, but if we keep having sex every time we are in the same room, it's going to get tricky. And I don't think my heart can take much more of it. But it's one year. Surely I can manage one year and get the money? We can part ways and say goodbye. Even if it kills me to say goodbye, it has to be done.
I need to fall out of love with my husband.
I take one more glance towards Craig, who has rolled over, seemingly tagging the bed as his for the night. With a heavy sigh, I turn off the light and migrate to the sofa. So much for the bed being
mine
and for
living here
a year longer than Craig. He doesn't seem to give a shit about living arrangements though. To him whatever is mine, automatically becomes his, too. I strategically arrange the pillows like I have done on and off for the past six weeks, grab the blanket off the back of the sofa and I lie down on my side, letting my eyes flutter shut. Since we moved in together we haven't slept in the same bed all night together. Not once. One of us will always sleep out on the sofa and tonight that someone is me. Something about sharing the bed feels way too intimate and no matter how much I want it I refuse to spend the night with him. I'm doing this to protect my already shattered heart.
My mind has other thoughts though and tears form at this situation. I do nothing to stop them, I just let them fall – and really, it's been a long time coming. They fall over how much I hate the position we are both in despite the fact it was
me
who pushed it to happen, how much I hate that I love Craig and how he will never love me back.
I sob to myself, head planted in the pillow while shakes wrack my body. I haven’t cried after a sex session yet, but there is always a first time. I grip hold of the thick blanket, pulling it up and over my head to make sure Craig doesn't wake up to my cries. I'm not sure how long I've been crying before I feel the blanket pull away and Craig hauling me up and onto his lap, where he hugs me tightly and lets me cry my pain out. I grip his T-shirt and bury my head in his chest. I never wanted this, I didn't want any of this. I didn’t want Craig to come out and console me because when he acts this way, it tears into my heart and I love and hate it and that is pain in itself. Why couldn’t he just leave me be, be the arsehole I’ve known all my life and not the sweet guy who is comforting me?
“Baby, what's the matter?” Craig whispers and that breaks me even more. I shake my head which tells him I don't want to talk about it and he leaves it alone. But I know he will be grilling me tomorrow, that's just who he is. I feel him moving and I am suddenly in his arms, being carried into the bedroom, where he lies me down. I bring my knees to my chest, my arms wrap around a pillow and I bury my tear stained face into it. Craig gets in behind me and he wraps his arms back around me, not before pulling the duvet up over us and soothing me to sleep.
***
I wake up to the feeling of light kisses scattering across my shoulder blades and the back of my neck. Arms are tight around me and legs are entwined. I know the kisses belong to Craig but I have no idea why he is doing this – does he still think I'm asleep? My answer is a resounding yes. Is it to comfort me after my crying fit last night? Quite possibly. But the aching part of all this tenderness that I am receiving? It's the fact I am falling deeper for Craig and there is no one here to stop me.
The comfort he gave me last night and the protection of his body encased around mine made my sobs harder and louder, but he was there for me, telling me it would all be okay, despite not knowing the reason I was a hysterical mess. Telling me he will help me through whatever has upset me and that no matter what happens, he will always be there for me. I want the arsehole Craig back, the one who thinks with his dick. That Craig will be easier to deal with when the heartbreak shatters me apart after signing the divorce papers.
Six years of wanting to be with Craig, and our relationship comes down to the fact our grandparents saved up a shit load of money that we could only get if we were married for a year. And I have so many plans that the money could go towards that playing husband and wife was the only way I could go about securing the money I need for
my
future. That and our grandparents blackmailed us both, despite never truly meeting us in the flesh. Since the deal came about, there has been a niggling at the back of my mind about this marriage. Just why did our grandparents push us to agree to this deal, to agree to get married for our inheritance? Is it something to do with our fathers? Are we meant to figure out the truth from the past, work out what tore their friendship apart thirty years ago? I have a sinking feeling our grandparents set us up to find out the secret, to stop the feud once and for all. But the thing is, I'm not sure I even want to know what the big secret is... I'm just going to play the game, keep up appearances and hope to God I walk away with my heart intact. Yeah, I really can’t see that happening.
I try to switch off the overload in my head, not wanting to go down that road and I let Craig know I'm awake, if only to stop the torturous kisses on my back; the kisses that I want so badly to wake me up every day. I pretend to stir and let out a yawn. The kisses immediately stop and Craig pulls back a bit, but he doesn't let go of me. I rub my heavy eyes and turn onto my right side to face the beautiful man who has been holding me all night. Craig pulls me back into his body, our chests touching while his eyes run ragged over my face and I can't help but feel I look like utter crap. My eyes feel swollen, I'm pretty sure I have massive black bags and my face is probably still red and blotchy. To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure what time it is, nor when I eventually got to sleep. All I can tell you is that I am absolutely shattered and a look of concern is etched on Craig's face.
“What happened last night, Nic? You were so upset, it scared the crap out of me.” Craig breaks the silence and lifts his eyes back to mine. He raises one hand to cup my cheek and stupidly I lean into it and close my eyes, basking in his touch.
Get away, Nic. Don't lean into his touch – It's too dangerous.
“I don't want to talk about it.” I let out a shaky breath and keep my eyes closed. I know I will surrender if I so much as look at him. I have to be strong. He can't know my tears were over him. He would have a field day knowing that information and would use it against me time and time again. No, it's safer for him and easier for me to not divulge that. Not yet at least.
“You were a state, Nic. You were crying so hard I thought you were going to lose your breath.” He whispers into my lips, while he runs a finger across my cheek. “What the hell happened? What or more importantly, who made you cry that hard, babe?”