Before she moved away, Eva was just Noah’s little sister. The tagalong kid with bright eyes, always running around in mismatched socks, trying to keep up with us like she was part of the crew. Since she’s eight years younger than us, I only saw her when I was over at Noah’s place, which was a lot back then. She was sweet, always asking questions, always smiling. Just a cute little girl in my eyes.
Back then, Noah would threaten to gut anyone who evenjokedabout looking at her the wrong way. He wasn’t just protective, he was borderline feral when it came to Eva and Julia. We all got the message loud and clear: they were off-limits.
She moved away when she was eighteen and honestly, she faded into the background of my mind. Just one of those people you remember fondly but don’t think about too often. And ever since then, she was just Noah’s little sister in stories. The genius who got to study science at a great university. The influencer with a million followers.
But now? After ten years without laying eyes on her? I’m in trouble.
Eva’s not a little girl anymore. She’s a grown woman, with confidence, curves, and that kind of quiet fire that sneaks up on you. She’s stunning. And funny. And smart. And every time she talks, I find myself paying more attention than I should.
I can’t be thinking like this. Ihaveto get my head on straight because if I don’t, this fake engagement might turn into a real disaster, for both of us.
My phone buzzes.
My fake girl: Hi. I’m free.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and type back quickly.
Me: Can you meet me at my house? I can make something to eat.
She replies almost immediately.
My fake girl: Sure.
God help me.
Me: What do you think about six p.m.?
My fake girl: Sounds good. See you later.
I toss my phone on the desk and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
Six. That gives me four hours to clean the house, cook, and maybe change my shirt like... three times.
I groan and drag a hand through my hair.
Why did I offer food? Why didn’t I say coffee? Why didn’t I suggest we meet at Josy’s Sweet Shop like a normal fake couple?!
This is fine. It’s all fine.
I just have to keep things professional. No flirting. No staring at her lips like a moron.
This is just a meeting.
With Eva.
In my house.
Alone.
Totally fine.
I glance around my house one last time, checking every corner like I’m expecting a visit from the damn president. The rice and beans are done, steaming gently on the stove, filling the place with that comforting, home-cooked smell. The chicken still needs a few more minutes in the oven, but it’s golden and juicy, exactly how I wanted it.
Now I’m focused on the last part of the plan: the tostones. I’ve got two green plantains left and not a lot of time to work with. It’s five fifty, and Eva’s supposed to be here in ten minutes. I move fast, slicing through the thick skin with a knife and peeling it back with my thumb. Plantains always make me work harder than they should, but I’m not about to mess this up, not tonight.
I’m halfway through cutting the rounds when there’s a knock at the door.
Shit.
