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I watch him for a second, taking in the tense set of his jaw, the way his fingers twitch before he forces them still. Then, with a deliberately sweet expression, I lean in just enough to make it obnoxious and whisper, “Goodnight, boyfriend.”
He doesn’t even bother opening his eyes to look at me this time. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
I beam. “It’s been suggested once or twice.”
He grunts. It’s a noncommittal, world-weary sort of sound that somehow manages to encapsulate his entire opinion of me in one non-syllable.
“You know, you may think I’m a pain in the ass, but like it or not, you’re going to have to pretend to be a little more smitten than you did today, or else no one is going to buy it.”
No response. Only the rustle of fabric as Theo shifts onto his other side, presenting me with the broad expanse of his back.
I stare at the stretch of muscle and ego currently pretending to sleep beside me. It’s insane how familiar he feels, even when he’s trying to shut me out.
I also wonder when, exactly, I became the type of person who gets jealous of a pillow.
I make a face at him that he can’t see, then wriggle into the least uncomfortable position possible, shoving one of my own pillows between us like a makeshift peace treaty. A very fluffy, very necessary boundary to ensure I uphold my end of the two-foot buffer when I inevitably start starfishing in my sleep.
I let my eyes drift shut. The room settles into silence.
As I’m drifting into unconsciousness, I swear I hear him mumble, “I don’t really think you’re a pain, Lila.”
It’s barely a hoarse whisper, half-swallowed by sleep.
In the morning, after blinking blearily and trying to remember whether it was a dream or just wishful thinking, I decide I must have imagined it.
Lila: Morning, besties. I have survived my first night.
Calla: Oh good, you weren’t mysteriously bludgeoned in the night.
Lila: Honestly, I was betting on Theo doing it just to escape this fake dating situation.
Serena: The week is young.
Calla: HOW DID YOU SLEEP
Lila: With a two-foot buffer zone between us that neither of us could cross without actual legal repercussions.
Serena: …You two are the worst slow-burn romance I’ve ever read.
Lila: Thank you. Anyway, Theo tried to exile himself to the tiny antique couch that was definitely not built for a man who could bench press me.
Calla: How long did that last?
Lila: One minute. Two, max. Then the couch gave up on life and he was forced to come back to bed radiating defeat.
Serena: I’m actually crying.
Calla: Did you spoon for warmth?
Lila: ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Serena: You hesitated.
Lila: BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO TYPE THROUGH MY RAGE.
Calla: Soooo how much longer before you two are forced to fake makeout?
Lila: Bold of you to assume he won’t strangle me with his tie first.
