She didn’t say anything, making it clear that this woman truly was the bane of my existence. I pressed my lips together and nodded, like right, this is how it ends because of course.
We’d bickered since the day I found her drinking alone in her room during her own party. Our run-ins at work had been awkward, forced, the tension between us palpable. Maybe there had been a move to breach the topic of that night, an apology or explanation or some type of closure, but it never amounted to anything.
There was just something about this woman that made me want to clam up and be pissy for the hell of it. She wanted me to argue with her. Rile her up the way she riled me up. Sometimes our tempers got the better of us, but I swore to the coding gods she enjoyed it. Sadistic woman.
I was already at the elevator, not knowing where to go since I didn’t have a room, when Bane called out, “Sunny! Wait!”
Bane had her tablet tucked against her chest, strands of purple hair slipping out from behind her ears, rushing toward me. The second I spotted her, she slowed down as if she hadn’t just been sprinting at me like a leopard in hungry pursuit.
Coming to an abrupt stop, her cheeks flushed, she said, “Then let’s just go with it.”
“What?” I said, confused, and sidestepping from the elevator’s path when the doors opened.
Four people spilled out and Bane pushed me inside, hitting a random floor number.
“What are you doing?” I turned to her, ignoring the residual heat that her palm had left against my chest. She was stronger than she looked, but just as aggressive as I knew she could be.
She pushed wayward hair from her face, brushing a knuckle against the sweat beading on her forehead. Her head dropped back. “AC. Thank god.”
“What are you doing?” I repeated myself in case she hadn’t heard me the first time. Of course, she had and chose to ignore me. “You’re the one who pushed me into an elevator, remember?”
Bane swallowed, her gaze stuck on the doors like she was expecting an invasion. “We should just pretend we’re dating for the duration of your stay.”
“What are you, offering me accommodations like you work here?”
She scoffed, turning her worried expression to my gaze. “I didn’t think of the implications. You have two options: tell them the truth and be ruined for eternity.”
“Not exactly how I put it.”
“Or play along.”
I shook my head. “Appalling notion.”
“Have you ever fake-dated before?”
“Well…no. I don’t fake anything. Have you?” I side-eyed her. “You look like a faker.”
“I will have you know that I’ve never fake-dated. But!” She dramatically held up one finger, her brows arched high.
“Big but.”
“I have hammed it up,” she added, and proudly at that. As if theatrically convincing someone of a situation was an uncharted gift of hers.
The doors opened and we walked out, slowly wandering the hall, where every so often, the building opened up to the beach and a breeze sent Bane’s stray hair swirling around her face.
“You’ve had to convince people your relationship is better than it was?”
“No.” She gave me a look so terse that it could glitch a perfect program. “It’s called being a wingwoman. Hyping someone up. I have guy friends and there’s nothing like me being all over them and loudly proclaiming their panty-melting assertion in bed to make other women turn their heads and want a piece.”
“Of…panty-melting assertion.”
“In bed.”
“Right. There must be a difference there…”
We paused at a balcony overlooking a large water feature filled with pink lotus and surrounded by flowering shrubs. Bane closed her eyes in the gust of air. She really wasn’t meant for hot and humid climates. But she was wearing sweats.
“I got you into this, and I will suck it up and get you through this,” she stated.
“Excellent pitch,” I said dryly.
“I’m willing to help. You can take it or tell them the truth. Just…let me know,” she ended with a soft, almost hurt quality to her tone. Did she care? Or was she bored and had nothing better to do? “Also, you need a place to stay, and this place is probably booked for at least a night or two.”
I looked past Bane and groaned.
She glanced over her shoulder at two men rounding the corner, deep in conversation. “Friends?”
“Yeah. Groom and best man.”
“Wingwoman?” She offered with beckoning raised brows.
I grunted, but before I could even think long enough to find a remotely reasonable response, Bane had turned to me and adjusted my collar. It didn’t need adjusting. Her touch glided across the top button and across my shoulders. The warmth of her hands seeped through the fabric, leaving a trail on my skin underneath. Her scent of floral hair products mixed with subtle sweat wafted toward me.
I cleared my throat. “What are you doing?”
“Jump-starting this whole thing in case you want to go all in. Why are you wearing a button-down shirt? Even if it’s short-sleeved. Do you know what you look like? A dev. A nerdy dev. A nerdy dev tourist.”
“You say that like it’s a dirty thing.”
