UNEDITED
Gemma Alder is used to being the unlucky one in the Alder family: from a nasty rumour about her back in high school to inexplicable mishaps, she seems to be the comical target for unfortunate situations. But if there's one thing she's good...
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Gemma
The problem with men is that they don't know the rules. Such as rule number one: always wear shoes in the locker room. My current fake boyfriend, Oliver, will not stop discussing, in detrimental detail, the tile-borne pathogens that have somehow caused an infection on his left foot and how he can't determine if it is viral or fungal. Either way, I'm purely disgusted while his buddies are greatly intrigued by this gruesome topic. Already, I've forgotten the names of Oliver's friends. The only thing I know about my fake boyfriend's friends is that they're from university and have been dying to meet Oliver's girlfriend that he continuously brags about.
And do you want to know the funniest thing ever?
Oliver has been lying the whole time.
Which is why I've stepped into the picture. After years of perfecting different personalities and being able to display them in the way I dress, the way I walk, the way I apply my makeup, I've created a favourable business for myself. Tonight, I'm playing the Golden Girl: the brown-haired VSCO girl who is attending post-secondary school to become a marine biologist in order to save the sea turtles and fight climate change. It's the very reason why my hair has been tied into a disastrous bun; I'm dressed in a baggy, golden-coloured crew-neck sweater that says honey above my left breast in lowercase letters, and high-rise short shorts; and my iPhone case is made from one-hundred per cent biodegradable materials. I also have completed my costume with fake reading glasses, the frame thick and purple.
Hurray!
My gin and tonic is halfway to my mouth when the one friend – Ryan, I believe his name is – turns to me, playfully punching me in the bicep. "What do you think it is?" he slurs, focusing his watery blue eyes on me. We've been here for nearly three hours and I'm just waiting for the opportunity when the three of them become piss-drunk and I can sneak out. "You're the nurse."
"Actually," I smile, my voice thick and sweet as honey. "I am becoming a marine biologist, which has no relation to the nursing field." With a sultry look in my eyes, one similar to what a lovesick VSCO girl would give her real boyfriend, I gently flick Oliver's earlobe. "I'm sure Oliver has told you just how passionate I am about our environment. Did you know that we only have about forty years before the biodiversity of the ocean dies out?"
Oliver chuckles, sliding his skinny arm around my shoulders and pressing a kiss to my temple. I'm impressed that he's been able to follow the rules that were clearly printed on the contract I offered him when he failed to wear sandals in the locker room. Perhaps I should give him a little more credit than I am. "It's hard to not brag about you, Paige."
I giggle, loudly and obnoxiously, as I press myself against him. "Ollie – don't embarrass me. Please."
The man with rounded glasses glances at me, stroking his stubble-coated chin. "How much longer until you obtain your master's, Paige?"
