JUST PRETEND! T. RHEAULT FIC | CHAPTER 4
prologue | aesthetics | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3
Although the everyday routine seemed natural between Thomas and Alice, the truth was it hadn’t always been that way.
"Hey, Ali, are you okay?"
"Am I so annoying that being quiet for a moment means I’m not okay?"
"It’s not that. But you always break the silences."
Biting her nails, the blonde let tears stream down her cheeks as she paced in circles. Thomas watched her, hands in his pockets.
"Am I really that stupid? Do I look stupid?"
She looked at him with red eyes under the streetlight but quickly looked away. She walked a few steps on the sidewalk, hugging herself as if the cold could seep into her bones.
"I just found out," she finally said, her voice broken. "My ex is dating my best friend."
Thomas opened his mouth but couldn’t find anything to say. He just watched her, listening to the words dissolve into sobs.
"Do you realize?" Alice stopped and confronted him sharply, tears running down her cheeks. "With my best friend."
He swallowed. His hands felt heavy in his pockets, but he still stepped closer and, awkwardly, brushed her shoulder.
"You’re not stupid, Alice."
She let out a bitter laugh that collided with the silence of the street.
"You’re terrible at cheering people up, you know that?"
Thomas gave a lopsided smile.
"It’s not my strong suit, no."
For a few seconds, neither spoke. Only distant cars and the wind rustling the leaves on the ground could be heard. Then Alice sighed, lowering her gaze.
"No problem." Thomas hugged himself tightly, watching as the blonde wrapped her arms around herself. She looked smaller than usual. "It’s cold, Ali. Do you want me to take you home?"
"Thomas, do you think I’m attractive?"
Alice laughed at the quick response. She had gotten so used to the bluntness of his answers that she was beginning to find them comforting. She lifted her gaze to look at him again. His blue eyes studied her intently. Fixed and impassive. Almost instinctively, her gaze drifted to his lips, and her heartbeat quickened. What would it feel like if…? No, she couldn’t do that.
She brought her thumb to her lips, nibbling the skin near her nails. What was she thinking? She had barely been drinking and was on the verge of an anxiety attack—why was her mind playing tricks on her now?
Unconsciously, under the attentive gaze of the redhead, she bit too hard on the skin she shouldn’t have.
"Ow!"—she waved her hand dramatically, letting out small cries.
"Did you just hurt yourself?"
"It was an accident!"—now tears of sadness had turned into tears of pain—"Damn, that hurts."
"Of course, the human jaw is very strong." Slowly, Thomas took her hand, which was moving at cartoonish speed. "Let me see."
Alice didn’t resist and let him hold her hand. Her heart rate skyrocketed being so close. She could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the gentle brush of his calloused fingers gripping hers firmly. She didn’t dare lift her gaze but could make out the freckles on his neck, the tiny mole on his collarbone. A pang of curiosity pierced her chest: what would it feel like to kiss that spot?
Before her, Thomas examined the wound with a calmness that was unbearable to Alice. The silence grew heavy, as if the air around them had stopped. When he took out a handkerchief and gently pressed it against the wound, a shiver ran down her arm to her back.
"Try to leave the handkerchief on for a while, okay? When you get home, you can replace it with a band-aid."
Alice continued to stare at him. He had called her attractive, taken her home almost every day to save on gas, and always ended up leaving his motorcycle jacket for her because he knew she’d forget something warm. All of that swirled in her chest like silent proof of something she didn’t dare name.
"Are you listening, Ali?"
His voice sounded distant. Alice swallowed, feeling her throat tighten.
"Thomas…" She placed both hands on his shoulders, and the pressure made tears pool in her eyes. "I’m going to kiss you."
The confusion in his tone barely gave him a second to hesitate. Alice leaned forward, closing the height gap until her lips brushed his. The first contact was clumsy, filled with nerves. She noticed Thomas’s eyelids wide open, as if he didn’t understand what was happening. But then he closed them, and slowly, his shoulders relaxed under her hands.
The air between them thickened, almost suffocating. Alice slid a hand to his neck, entwining her fingers in his curls. The soft sound escaping Thomas’s throat was so unexpected, so vulnerable, that a shiver ran through Alice’s body. She clung to him tighter, deepening the kiss, afraid that if it stopped, everything would disappear like a dream.
But then, like a harsh blow, images of Ioan flashed through her mind. Léah and Ioan. Ioan and Léah. Their names intertwined in her head as a cruel reminder, blurring the present. The tremor shook her, making her lose balance, forcing Thomas to hold her by the lower back. His fingers burned against the fabric of her dress, a sensation competing with the fire of tears running down her cheeks.
Thomas had never been on a rollercoaster capable of causing such adrenaline. Every touch, every movement, drew him closer to her; yet, like in a theme park, he knew that euphoria was fragile, momentary. When the kiss began to taste salty, he realized it wasn’t just desire they shared.
Alice’s tears had merged between them. And with them, a pain he didn’t know how to bear.
With much regret, Thomas pulled away and removed his hand from her neck, returning it to her shoulders. Alice squeezed her eyes shut and cried even harder.
Thomas watched her cry, repeating "I’m sorry" like a mantra, each time more choked by sobs. The shame seemed to bend her over herself.
The redhead remembered how his last ex had screamed at him for being insensitive for not hugging her when she cried watching Titanic. And how, when she left him, he hardly felt anything. But now… he had never wanted so badly to help someone stop crying.
"Do you want me to hug you?" he asked in a low voice, almost afraid she would say no.
Alice nodded slightly, and Thomas carefully wrapped his arms around her. The pressure was gentle at first, as if he feared breaking her, but as the young woman’s tears soaked her clothes, he held her tighter.
Alice’s hands rested on his back until an impulse made her clutch his shirt. Her ragged breathing collided with Thomas’s chest, and he, surprised, realized his own heart was trying to sync with hers.
They stayed like that for long minutes until Alice’s crying subsided and Thomas’s pulse calmed.
"I’m banning that word in all our future conversations."
Alice gave a sad smile as she slowly pulled away. She wiped her traces of mascara with her index finger and sniffled audibly.
"The wine clouded my thoughts. I shouldn’t have done that, Thomas."
"It is not okay!" She clenched her fists and furrowed her brow, her voice breaking. "I mess up again and again, and you always say it’s okay."
"It’s because it’s never not okay."
Alice stared at him in disbelief, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Thomas, I just kissed you without much control."
He raised an eyebrow, unbothered.
"So? Is the world ending?"
Alice opened her mouth to reply, but the words got stuck in her throat. Thomas hadn’t moved, and the intensity of his gaze was enough to disarm her.
"Thomas," she whispered, her voice trembling. The cold reminded her she was still alive.
He breathed in slowly, as if searching the air for a rational answer, one he couldn’t find. He had always known how to remain calm, measure every gesture, every word. But with Alice, all that logic crumbled.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her. The gesture seemed calculated, logical, yet his fingers twitched against his pocket, impatient, as if containing an impulse he didn’t want to admit.
Alice swallowed and stepped back, but Thomas reacted before thinking: he closed the distance between them. His body moved purely by inertia, contradicting the mind that screamed it made no sense.
"Not everything you do is wrong, you know?" he murmured. His calm voice was a mirage; inside, his heart beat with a force more bewildering than any failed reasoning.
Alice looked at him in disbelief, and Thomas, who had always defined himself as logical, felt that logic dissolve completely in front of her.
"If you promise me you’ll forget this and never mention it, I’ll take you to McDonald’s tomorrow."
Thomas gave a tiny smile before taking the motorcycle keys from his pocket.
Two weeks before the wedding
"Are you going by train?" Elenda asked while stirring her matcha.
"No, we’re taking the car."
"In my ultravehicle," Alice added, placing the cup on the saucer.
"Your car, the one with the license plate taped on?" Elenda raised an eyebrow.
"I’m not sure it’ll make it to Amiens, but we’ll try."
"Honestly, getting stranded on the road is still better than going to that jerk’s wedding," Bruno muttered, shrugging.
"I agree," Thomas added, dryly, as if no further explanation was needed.
"I’ve made my decision. Thomas and I intend to have a great time."
"I still think it’s a terrible idea, but hey, your choice."
"No problem." Brune winked at her as he took another sip of his drink.
The group’s conversation continued with laughter and sarcastic comments, accompanied by the clinking of spoons against porcelain. Thomas, however, kept glancing at Alice out of the corner of his eye. He knew perfectly well she was nervous; the finger she was nibbling betrayed her.
"Have you spoken to my mom about today?" Alice turned to him after hearing his voice.
"She called an hour ago. Said we could go whenever we want," the young woman replied, withdrawing her ring finger from her mouth. She spoke with Isabelle almost daily about the development of her website. "Shall we get going?" Alice put on her headband and looked at him attentively.
"I think so," he said, checking his watch. "Guys, we’re leaving."
The rest of the group waved with smiles and knowing gestures. Alice hugged everyone before Thomas sent a message to his mother to let her know they were on their way.
The motorcycle waited in the alley. Thomas carefully removed Alice’s headband before gently placing the helmet on her head.
"Thanks, sir," she smiled under the helmet, waiting for him to mount.
Once seated, she stretched her arms to cling to his back. The scent of leather and Thomas’s warmth enveloped her, and she closed her eyes, feeling safe and content. The ride was smooth, interrupted only by the soft roar of the engine and the wind brushing past them.
Thomas’s mother’s house was as tender as she was. Isabelle awaited them at the door with a beaming smile. Since Thomas’s motorcycle accident, she was always ready whenever she heard the engine roar, making sure her son arrived safe.
"Isabelle!" Alice left the helment on the seat, and quickly approached the woman to hug her. Thomas smiled as he put the helmets away.
"Alice!" Isabelle returned the hug enthusiastically. "How are you, dear? Did you cut your hair?"
"Yes!" Alice stepped back slightly and turned her head to show her haircut. "Thomas says it’s barely noticeable, but I think it is."
"Oh, you know how he is. You look gorgeous!"
"I didn’t say it looked bad," Thomas appeared behind Alice and bent down to kiss his mother’s cheeks. "But it’s barely noticeable."
"Whatever you say," they said in unison.
Thomas smiled before entering his old house, letting Alice enjoy a little longer the warmth of the family.
"What's the plan for today?" Alice asked as she sat down on the armchair.
"We need to make 20 face wipes, 2 scarves, and 5 coasters," Isabelle echoed the action and sat on the two-seater sofa, leaving space for Thomas to settle beside her.
"Sounds doable," Thomas commented. "Ali, will you start with the coasters?"
"Then I’ll take care of the scarves. I’ll prepare the tea while you get started."
"I’ll go, Mom," Thomas said, resting his hand on his mother’s slender arm.
"No, no, stay with Ali. It’ll take me three minutes."
Her son sighed and collapsed back onto the sofa, resuming his task. Isabelle disappeared into the kitchen and turned on the kettle, smiling as she heard Thomas’s gentle laugh in response to one of Alice’s comments.
Peeking around the doorframe, Isabelle watched them tenderly. She never thought she’d see Thomas show so much vulnerability to someone. He had always been a big boy, with a well-built shell around him. And here he was now, absorbed, staring at the young woman he talked about every day.
The sound of a phone ringing interrupted everyone’s thoughts. Isabelle went to the kitchen to check the kettle, Thomas resumed working on a scarf, and Alice brought the phone to her ear.
"Léah? What’s wrong?" she asked, jumping up and carefully setting aside the crochet work.
"Ioan, that's what's wrong" her voice sounded broken.
Alice bit her lip, took a breath, and nodded at Thomas, who motioned for her to go to her room to talk. The blonde nodded in thanks and went to the small room.
"What did that idiot do now?" she murmured as she carefully sat on the rocket-patterned bedspread.
"Alice, you’re still talking about my future husband."
"Your future husband, my jerk ex. Both concepts can coexist."
"It doesn’t matter," Léah said, sniffling in frustration. "The thing is, we had a pretty big fight, and I don’t know what to do."
For the next ten minutes, Alice listened as her friend recounted the fight. Nothing too serious, but Léah was always very emotional.
"Did you have these kinds of arguments with him too?"
"Pfft, much worse, Léah," Alice said, covering her mouth with her hand as she remembered past conflicts. "But it’s not the same."
"Ali," Léah began with a sigh, "I need to ask you something about love."
"About Ioan again?" Alice asked, trying to sound calm.
"Not exactly," Léah laughed softly. "I want to ask you how you know you’re in love with someone. How do you know it’s real and not just affection or habit?"
"Should I be worried that you’re asking this fourteen days before the wedding?"
"No," Léah continued softly, smiling, "I just want reassurance. You know I always like hearing you agree with me."
"Well, for once, I don’t know what to tell you, Léah. I’m not sure how to know if someone is the right one." She stood up from the bed and began walking slowly around the room. "I always thought it would be someone I don’t even talk to now. Funny, isn’t it?"
"Habits can also be love, you know?" She rested her hand on a bookshelf, scanning the room until her eyes fell on a small photo of Thomas as a child, holding a big rocket and smiling at the camera.
"And how do you know it’s not just affection or habit?" Léah asked, her voice barely a whisper. "How do you distinguish true love?"
Alice paused, looking at the photo of Thomas as a child, fixing her gaze on the blue eyes that always calmed her when everything felt too much.
"I think you know it when you want to be with someone even in the hard times. When their presence makes you feel safe, complete, even if everything isn’t perfect. Because nothing is ever perfect," she replied, lowering her gaze.
"That makes sense," Léah said with a sigh. "I feel that with Ioan. But sometimes I wonder if it’s just fear of losing him."
Alice pressed her lips together. Her heart began to beat faster.
"If you love him, it’s normal to be terrified of losing him, Léah," Alice murmured.
"And do you feel that way about someone?" Léah asked softly.
Alice closed her eyes, and for a second, she could feel Thomas’s presence behind the door. She looked at the photo once more before turning on her heels to see the redhead standing in the doorway. Real. Tangible. In front of her.
A small smile formed on Alice’s delicate lips before she could speak. Her voice, soft yet firm, cut through the silence:
Hanging up the phone, Alice looked up and met Thomas’s gaze. He raised an eyebrow, curious.
"Everything okay?" he asked softly.
Linking her arm with his, Alice gave a bright smile.
"Yes. Everything’s perfect, Thomas."
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