“I don’t know if you heard the lady at the front desk,” I start, only to be met with a blank stare.
“I did,” she affirms blankly.
The drive must have worn us both down.
“She said since we’re checking in too early, and they’re fully booked, the only room available has just one bed.”
“And your point is?” Vivienne motions with a hand, wanting me to get on with it. “Just open the door, Nate. We’ve slept in the same bed before, and we didn’t kill each other. I won’t try making a move on you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That isn’t what I’m afraid of,” I confess, meeting her bag-riddled eyes as her brows raise in surprise.
To put an end to her misery, I finally crank open the door and drag our suitcases inside.
The room is nice—sleek, modern, spotless. A queen-sized bed sits in the center, covered in freshly fluffed white sheets. Off to one side is a kitchenette and a round dining table bigenough for two. And to its opposite is a cozy loveseat facing a TV.
The loveseat—that’s my only way out.
“You get settled on the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“How tall are you?” she asks when her eyes land on the furniture in question.
“Six foot three.”
Vivienne points at the loveseat in disbelief. “That thing is minion-sized compared to you. I’ll take the couch. You can take the bed.”
I let out a sigh of exasperation.
How do we always find ourselves here? Arguing about things that don’t need our time of day. Her height argument is valid—but I just wish she’d let me take care of her without any questions asked.
“I amnotletting you sleep on the couch, Vivienne.”
Her eyes dart up to mine at the mention of her full name, and I can’t help but think back to our time at the gas station when that nickname slipped out.
It was an accident, by all means, but it felt right—and that’s exactly why the nickname, along with the flirty remark, shouldn’t have happened.
It’s only when she got back in the car and sipped from my damn cup, her eyes locked on mine, that I knew how badly I messed up.
I’m not oblivious to the way this woman operates—she was trying to entice me, a silent showcase of how her lips would feel on mine. But it’s for that very reason that I had to pull back. We can’t have a repeat of what happened that night. For her. For me. And most importantly, for the contract.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” She crosses her arms over her chest, shooting me a glare.
“Would you please listen to me for once?” I throw my hands up in frustration.
The movement seems to light a fire within her, and in three quick steps, she’s digging an accusatory finger in my chest. “No! You listen to me. Either we’re sharing that bed, or I’m taking the couch. Which would you rather?Nathan.”
My name isn’t short for anything, but I let her get away with it. It’s impossible to focus when her body is in close proximity to mine—her pouty lips taunting me to claim them, our chests grazing with each heavy breath we take.
We stand like this for a moment too long. No words. No arguing. Just two souls, caught in a haze, carrying a thousand confessions neither of us dares to say out loud. There are so many things I’d like to say to this girl—doto her—but that include crossing a boundary we didn’t bargain for.
With great effort, I break our eye contact and turn to the darkened sky—downtown Chicago’s skyscrapers rising beyond the glass doors leading to our balcony.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” I announce, unable to move when there’s a magnet nearby pulling me into her orbit.
Vivienne seems stuck in place as well. “Then what are you waiting for?” Her taunt breaks me from whatever spell she’s got me under.
My eyes meet hers one last time before I turn to walk to the bathroom.
On a long exhale, I lock the door behind me and brace myself against the vanity’s marble counter.The reflection in the mirror doesn’t feel like mine. There’s scruff all over my face, bags under my eyes, and hair overgrown to reveal its slight wave pattern.
