A/N: Dedicated to 830freckles. Why? Because she gave me the most mind-blowing comment when I first started this story, and she inspired me to continue. You ROCK! And to those of you who were fans of me back when I was OP, the beginning might spark a few memories of pretending to be someone you’re not ;)
There are a lot of ideas that I haven’t exactly been fond of over the past week. The first one being the time when I asked, or more like begged, Weston to be my fake boyfriend. The second being when I vandalized his car, which to my great dismay, was owned by the snobby English transfer. And then, there’s now. Because I’m sure that this is a horrible, horrible idea.
Jocelyn took a quick trip to the wig store this morning, coming back with the most atrocious red bob wig she could possibly find. The itchy fake hair sits on my head now, curling under my cheeks. I pulled out one of my mother’s old business suits a few hours ago, but the skirt is way too short, and I’m constantly tugging at the hem. I look at myself in the mirror, shrugging.
“I don’t look much different. It just seems like I got a bad hairdo.” I say.
Jocelyn purses her lips. “I know, but Weston says he’s bringing something that’ll disguise your face.”
What’s that? A paper bag?
I keep tugging at the skirt. “I don’t even know how to be a counselor. I mean, I’ve never counseled anybody in my entire life.”
“That’s what’s going to make you a perfect candidate to do this job. You need to be the opposite of a good counselor. Give Jackson and Kristina bad advice, and at the same time, draw them out so that they’ll expose all their relationship secrets. It’s so easy.” She says, right as Weston walks in my room, carrying a small grocery bag.
“The man of the hour is finally here.” He announces for himself, kicking my room door shut with his foot. He walks over to my bed, sitting down on top of the comforter.
Jocelyn smiles, pointing towards me. “So, what do you think?”
He narrows his eyes at me, staring me up and down. His eyes stop at my legs, and his eyebrows quirk for a second. I try not to smile. I run on the treadmill every morning. Though, I don’t like this much skin to be shown, I know that my legs are my best feature.
Still staring at my legs, his lips pull into a small smirk. “I always knew it. I always knew Sasquatch was real.”
Excuse me?
Now the smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with a razor.”
I start to feel my blood boil, and my fists clench. Okay, so maybe I have been forgetting to shave lately. It’s not my fault. I’ve been so darn busy with this relationship business that I haven’t had time to worry whether or not my leg hairs were growing. But admitting that to him, would only give him the chance to continue mocking me. So I lie.
“I just shaved them this morning.” I reply.
“You did?” His eyebrows raise. “Well, maybe you should try something a little more heavy duty. I can go get my dad’s weed whacker.”
He’s just begging me to mutilate him.
“Weston, stop.” Jocelyn steps in before any actual damage can take place. “You need to stop picking on Addelyn. It’s not nice.”
YOU ARE READING
Strictly Business
Teen Fiction"It's so simple," I say. "All we have to do is pretend we're in love with each other. You know, hold hands, share Eskimo kisses and all that crap. And at the same time, we'll destroy Jackson and Kristina's relationship. Make them think that thei...
