"Well, we get along pretty nicely so far."
I smirk.That's true.We do get along well. Easy banter, similar sense of humor, comfortable silences that don't feel awkward. She makes me laugh. I seem to make her smile. It works.
"Which we absolutely can't let happen," she announces suddenly, her tone serious.
My smirk falters.
"What? Why not?"
"Duh. It's boring." She says it like this should be obvious.
I gawk at her—well, I would if I wasn't supposed to be watching the road.
"Boring? Having a healthy relationship where two people get along is boring?"
She rolls her eyes like I'm missing something painfully obvious.
"YES! In fiction and movies and everything in the entertainment industry, obviously. People don't watch contentabout couples who just... get along perfectly from day one. Where's the tension? The drama? The will-they-won't-they anticipation?"
She shifts in her seat to face me more directly.
"Nobody wants to watch two people who like each other have nice conversations and be supportive. They want sparks! Conflict! Banter that's secretly foreplay! The kind of relationship where you're not sure if they're about to kiss or kill each other!"
"So you want fake conflict," I clarify.
"Exactly!" She points at me. "You have to be the one I don't get along with initially. We need a proper love-hate relationship! Bickering and banter and sexual tension that builds and builds until it explodes into passionate?—"
She pauses and gives me a look.
"Eyes on the road, Nash," she interrupts herself, noticing I'm looking at her instead of ahead.
I huff and snap my attention back to the highway.
"Fine. We'll play the enemies-to-lovers trope for your content."
"Perfect! That's what I'm talking about!"
An idea forms in my head. A wicked, probably inadvisable idea that I'm going to voice anyway because apparently I can't help myself around this Omega.
"We'll see if you still hate me," I say slowly, letting the words hang in the air, "when I have you pinned to a bed, fucking you senseless until you're screaming my name and begging me not to stop."
Her whole face goes nuclear. Bright crimson from her neck to her hairline, spreading across her cheeks like wildfire.
"I-I-I'm not—" She stutters, completely flustered. "I'm n-not afraid of you."
I smirk, keeping my eyes on the road like the responsible driver I am.
"Yet you're stuttering. And blushing. Pretty sure that proves my point."
"Hush," she manages, her voice higher than normal. "That's—you can't just—that's inappropriate!"
"You're the one who wanted sexual tension and banter," I point out. "I'm just fulfilling the role you assigned me."
She makes a strangled sound.
"I'm going to start the live now. Right now. To escape this conversation."
"Running away from the tension already?" I tease. "Not very enemies-to-lovers of you."
