Weekend Husband

— Pretend to be my husband!

— Who? Me?

The guy crouching by the hotel entrance shoots me with a blue look. A summer cap, pulled far down over his forehead, covers half his face, and his lashes cast a long shadow onto his cheeks. A guitar stands next to him.

So this parking attendant is also a homegrown musician? Well, what difference does it make?

— Yes. You — I want to smack him on the forehead: this stranger’s cluelessness infuriates me. — Just for show. For the weekend.

— Why?

— It’s necessary. And later, you’ll owe me.

— Hmm... screw you... and the whole woods...

The guy stands up. Oh my God! How tall he is! I add tears to my voice:

— Be a friend, help me, please!

— A friend? Hm… Well, look— this bastard grins— don’t regret it later.

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#Bride-to-be #Poor Prince #Trap for Parents #Difficult Feelings