“He looked cute.”

“Were you watching him sleep?”

“Yes. While I ate granola. He was passed out like a baby.”

I groaned, wiping sweat from my brow and realizing how badly I needed a shower.

“When’s the last time you got some?”

“Diya!” I squeaked. Pointedly looking at Kimo, who was on the adjacent chair surfing the endless channels.

“What? I tell him everything. He already knows.”

Kimo nodded and shrugged, as if saying, “True, and sorry, but what can I do?”

“Oh my god,” I muttered with a shake of my head because little sisters sure thought they had liberty with everything.

“And our parents call me every day for an update.”

I cringed. “On me getting some?”

“No! Ew. On you getting a man. Although I’m sure they know what that entails at some point.”

“Everyone is in my sex life.”

“Everyone except you because you ain’t getting any. Bitch, you better make use of that ‘there’s only one bed for the both of us’ situation. None of this couch business because he’ll find out in the morning that I watch him sleep while eating breakfast.”

“Wow. The language on this one,” I said to Kimo because I couldn’t handle Diya for another second.

He responded, “I’m sorry. She’s been hanging around Keanu, and Keanu can’t have a conversation without cursing.”

“Aw. How is your sister? I didn’t even ask. I’m so rude!”

He lit up. “Keanu’s good. She has one more year at U of H over on Oahu. Keeping it local, even if she’s off island, ya know?”

“I bet your parents miss her.”

“They couldn’t wait to get her out of the house because of her language,” he replied, grinning.

I nodded. The few times I’d met Keanu, her sailor mouth had floored me. Having to watch her language in classes and study groups and in any sort of professional environment had probably helped curb that habit. Or it meant she’d been bottling it up and it exploded the moment she got back. Just a young, cute volcano spewing out profanity.

“Oh! I gotta shower.” I hopped up and hurried to my room, almost forgetting about first impressions with the friends of my fake boyfriend.

After a quick douse, I opened the bathroom and bedroom doors and called out, “Hey! Diya! Something came up!”

Returning to the bathroom, I hurried to dab on a light layer of foundation and mascara, did my brows just a little, maybe lip gloss, and…did I need bronzer, highlighter, blush? No. I’d been in the sun long enough to have a glow by now.

“What are you doing?” Diya asked from the door, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked me up and down.

With a bobby pin in my mouth, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and said, “Remember that coworker who crashed here?”

“Yes. The man. Whom I need to meet, but go on.”

“He’s here for his best friend’s wedding and they invited me to a coffee tour. I bet it’s that place in Holualoa. Good for them for getting more visitors.”

She smacked her lips, her gaze studying the low front of my tank top and my short shorts—by which I meant not knee-length gym shorts. “Looking kinda cute and putting on makeup?”

“Don’t go there. Anyway, is it okay if I bail out for a bit and go with him? Also, he might need to crash another night or two. Guess he’s one of the guests who had their reservations screwed up.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to hurry on that one,” Diya jested with a wink. “Let me help. This is crooked. How about a low bun? Make you look like a classy, sexy woman in STEM begging for him to undo your hair while he talks dirty into your ear.”

“Been reading too many rom-coms? Also, not sure if I should be offended that you just reduced my entire career to what could possibly be the beginning of a porno?”

“No! And it is a good idea for a rom-com. You know? I think I’ll write a book one day. How hard can it be?”

“I’m sure it’s easy and fast and will yield loads of cash and fame,” I replied dryly.

“I think so, too.”

There was a knock at the ajar bedroom door. Assuming it could only be Kimo, I replied, “Come in!”

It was not Kimo, but Sunny led by that Denzel voice that had Diya pausing in mid–bobby pinning to swerve her head toward the bedroom. Just his voice. That was all it took.

“Hey, I’m a little early. You have time, don’t worry. Just came by to say…can you please…um…”

“I’m not wearing sweats!” I yelled. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he seriously telling me to dress nicely for his friends? Well, shorts and a tank top were all they were getting.

“Damn,” Diya muttered. “He sounds fine as hell. Voice certainly matching that face.”

I rolled my eyes and pointed at my hair. She unrolled the bun and went for two French braids, saying, “Forget classy. You need to look more like, come hither and pull on these braids, Daddy, but still talk dirty because, damn, that voice.”

“Shut up,” I hissed.

Diya grinned at me through the reflection of the mirror, where my face was getting redder by the second.

“Thank god.” He sounded as if he was going through his suitcase, sounds of lugging it out of the closet and the zipper opening.

“Why are you so obsessed with what I wear?”

“I always notice what you wear.”

“Obsessed,” Diya whispered. “Yes, Daddy.”

Sunny went on, “I thought about what you said, and let’s agree to two months? We’ve been dating for two months and it’s nothing serious; that’s why I didn’t tell my friends.”

Diya tugged on my braid as she worked, her eyes giant circles through the reflection as she mouthed, “What?”

Oh, no. This was not happening.