The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas (novels for students .TXT) 📕

“Is that a threat?” A gasp left my lips.

“No,” he said, taken aback by my accusation. “But it’s a possible outcome if you don’t let me sleep.”

“But it will be just one more time. It can be quick. Just first cousins?” I bargained with a pout.

Aaron sighed dramatically.

“Or maybe we should go over basic stuff, like my favorite color, the movie that makes me cry, or what I’m most afraid of.”

Aaron deflated in his seat.

I opened my mouth, but Aaron cut the air with his hand, stopping me. “Coral. P.S. I Love You. And snakes or anything that looks remotely like one.”

Well, that … was one hundred percent correct.

Then, he closed his eyes, shutting off the world. And me.

Rendered speechless, I rested my head on the seat, imitating him, as I told myself I didn’t want to think about how he had been right. On all of those three things. But the silence only turned every other thought and worry in my head louder and louder.

That earlier emotion was back, making me feel squirmy and nervous and causing me to lose control of the little restraint I usually tried to keep up around Aaron.

“I just want to make sure everything goes perfectly.” My voice came out weak. “I’m sorry if I am giving you a headache.”

Aaron must have heard something in my confession even if I wasn’t sure my words had been loud enough to reach him over the buzz filling the cabin.

His eyes snapped open, and his head turned in my direction. “Why are you so sure I will mess up?”

That question seemed sincere. And that only made the knot in my chest grow.

Did he think all I worried about was him failing at remembering my tía-abuela’s name?

The real impostor was me, not him. “It’s not that.” I shook my head, unable to find the right words. “I … I want them to believe I am happy.”

“Are you not happy, Catalina?” His gaze searched mine with that intensity of his that I was slowly starting to believe would eventually expose all my secrets.

“I guess I am,” I exhaled, sounding more somber than I wanted to give away. “I think I’m happy. I just want everyone else back at home to believe that I am. Even if the only way to accomplish that is this way”—I waved my hand between the two of us—“if you look the part. If we do. Only if everyone back home believes that I’m not lonely and single because I’m broken.” I could see him piecing something together, so I filled in the silence. “We need to make them—all of them—believe that we are deeply, utterly, and completely in love. If they find out about our arrangement, they won’t let me live it down. It will be humiliating. Probably a million times worse than attending the wedding alone and having them pity me until the end of my days.”

If they discovered that I had convinced someone to act as my boyfriend, someone who wasn’t even a friend, I would only manage to confirm what they’d already believed about me. That I was the broken, stuck, and pathetic Lina they saw.

Aaron’s eyes sparked with what looked like understanding. As if something had finally clicked together. The truth behind my motivation perhaps? I hoped not. But whatever it was, it was short-lived because we were interrupted.

His attention shifted to the flight attendant hovering right above our heads.

She directed a radiant smile at him. One he didn’t reciprocate. “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Blackford? Miss Martín?”

“Two gin and tonics, please,” he said without so much as a second glance to the flight attendant. “That okay, baby?”

My head reared back at that last word. Baby. “Yes, sure,” I whispered, feeling my cheeks heat immediately.

Okay, that had … that had been … I had never been baby to anyone. And judging by the quick flutter in my stomach, I had kind of liked it. Oh boy. I had actually liked hearing that. Even if it had been fake.

“Thank you, erm …” I stole a glance at the flight attendant, who was eyeing Aaron in an appreciative way. “Thank you, boyfriend.”

The woman nodded at us with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

“You know,” Aaron started in a hushed voice once she was gone, “you are worried about me messing up and mixing up dozens of Spanish names that I’ve heard for the first time today, and yet you overlook that calling me boyfriend will probably give it all away rather quickly.”

“Dozens of names?” I hissed. “More like a dozen.”

Aaron cut me a look.

“A couple dozen, tops. But you might be right,” I admitted, earning a shocked look from him. “What pet name would you like me to call you?”

“Whatever makes you the happiest. Just pick one.”

In that moment, the effect of the baby came back with a vengeance. “I don’t know,” I said, kicking that one out of my head. “I guess one in Spanish makes sense. Bollito? Cuchi cuchi? Pocholito?”

“Bollito?”

“It’s little bun.” I smiled. “Like those bread buns that are spongey and shiny and so cute that—"

“Okay, no.” He frowned. “I think it’s better if we stick to our names,” he said, taking both drinks from the attendant who had just reappeared and placing mine in front of me. “I don’t think I can trust you to pick one in Spanish without knowing what it means.”

“I’m very trustworthy—you should know that by now.” I brought a finger to my chin, tapping it a few times. “How about conejito? That’s little bunny.”

With a long sigh, Aaron let his massive body fall deeper into the seat.

“You are right; you are not a bunny.” I paused. “Osito?” I made a show of looking him up and down, as if I were testing the name on him. “Yeah, that one is way more fitting. You are more of a bear.”

What was very close to a groan got stuck in Aaron’s throat. He lifted his glass