He’s Not Yours

Fake It Until You Make It.

I spend most of Monday creating a list of potential wedding planners for Simon. I use a mixture of real people I know he won’t accept and a few fake portfolios, including my alias. I make 2 of my fake ones stand out above the rest, adding photos of pretty blond women that are just his type and I know they’ll grab his attention. I give them a brief bio, making sure my alias’ background in foster care will get noticed.

I hand him the files over dinner that evening and, just as expected, he instantly dismisses most of them as soon as he sees their picture. Ugh what a sleaze bag! I hate that I was right about him on this. He narrows it down to 3 potential candidates, spending more time actually reading through their portfolio. Then he hands 2 files back to me, the 2 I suspected.

“Meet with these two, explain the deal and see if they want to work for us. If they do I’ll have to do an out of hours, informal, interview with each of them and decide between the two,” he says, standing from the dinner table and retreating upstairs to shower, leaving me to clear away the dinner table. Oh, I bet he’d love that. I can just imagine what that informal interview would entail. I think with an exaggerated eye roll and I childishly stick up my middle finger at him, not that he can see it from upstairs anyway. Unluckily for him, none of these women are real and one will decline the job offer, leaving only my alias left to hire. Once I clean up after dinner I decide to take a bath in the main bathroom. I can probably drag that out for a couple of hours to avoid Simon.

I sink down into the water, the heat and scent of vanilla soothing me like a warm hug. I close my eyes and my mind drifts to Hawk again. His eyes staring at me through the darkness. “Thinking of me again baby girl?” His words echo in my mind. Just the memory of his voice sends bursts of arousal to my core. “I’m so hard for you. Be a good girl and touch yourself for me,” I imagine him saying, trailing my hand down to do just that. My fingers work as Hawk continues to guide me through it. “C*m for me,” he demands, tipping me over the edge.

“I see you started without me,” Simon’s annoying voice breaks through my fantasy. I snap my eyes open, Hawks roar of protest echoing through my mind as the room and Simons' face come into focus.

“What were you thinking about?” Simon asks, a cocky smirk on his face that I’d love to slap off.

“I was thinking of you in the shower,” I lie. Turning his smirk into a full grin.

“Then get out of that bath and come let me make that fantasy a reality,” he says, taking my hand to help me out. With an inward sigh I let him pull me up. He steps towards the door, pulling me along behind him.

“Wait,” I blurt. He turns to look back at me. “I can’t wait that long, let’s do it here.” I tell him in an attempt to get this over with quickly and get back into my bath. He lifts me and places me down on the counter by the sink. The cold marble feels like I’m sitting on a block of ice. He grabs my knees and yanks my legs apart before quickly working himself out of his pyjama pants and getting to work on finding his release. I take note that he didn’t even stop to look at my body. I spent all this time hiding myself shyly in the dark for nothing. He’s not interested, my body is just a tool to him. He doesn’t care what it looks like. He’s never wanted to taste me or admire me like Hawk did. How did I ever think this man loved me? I got more attention from a complete stranger in one night than I did with Simon in the 3 years since I met him. Simon finishes quickly, not even noticing I’d been zoned out the whole time, or maybe he just didn’t care. I tell him to head to bed without me as I need to wash my hair. Hopefully he will be asleep by the time I’m done. Not wanting to contaminate my bath with his germs, I step into the shower cubicle and scrub myself clean before relaxing back into my bath, back to Hawk.

“Why do you let him use you like that?” He asks. Shocking me. Are imaginary… friends?… lovers?…friends with benefits?… supposed to question you?

“I don’t have a choice and I don’t want to talk with you about it. You’re my escape, you’re not supposed to question me,” I think back at him and open my eyes, cutting him off.

I need a damn therapist, I decide. Surely this is some kind of mental illness or trauma response. It can’t be normal to keep a one-night stand as an imaginary lover and even get into arguments with them. If I carry on like this I’ll be locked in a psychiatric hospital. At least I’d be away from Simon I guess. It’s a solid back up plan if my current one fails. Thinking of Hawk keeps me sane though, it helps me get through this hell. I’d definitely not cope without him. Imaginary Hawk is my coping strategy, so for now I’ll keep on using it. Once I’m free of Simon, I’ll be free of Hawk too.

Simon is sleeping when I’m done with my bath, so I can get away with another night on the couch. When I close my eyes I don’t see Hawk. Maybe I have banished him already. I try not to dwell on the loss I feel and get some sleep, but I just can’t settle down. I toss and turn for what feels like hours.

“Shh baby, rest now.” Hawks' voice floats over me, enveloping me like an embrace and I drift off imagining myself wrapped in his arms.