I hesitated to look over my shoulder.

“Don’t tense up. Are you always this weird with your girlfriends?”

“I’m a grown-ass man who doesn’t know how to do this.”

“Lower your voice.” Bane smiled, twisting back and forth at the hip, taking the hem of my T-shirt and tugging.

Something rumbled in my gut. “What are you doing?”

“We’re supposed to look cute,” she muttered. “Mr. Grown-Ass Man is going to blow his cover if they hear you. You have to make it look believable when all eyes are on you.”

“Ah. They’re still watching?”

“Not at all inconspicuously.”

I tensed anyway. They probably all knew the truth and were exchanging expressions of sadness over my pitiful life. “So what should I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“To make this look believable.” I gestured with my hand, indicating the air in front of us as if it had to create the bulk of our illusion.

She shrugged. “How should I know?”

“You seem like you’d know.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “Don’t you know? What do you do when you date?”

“The better question is what do you do when you date?” She pressed a hand against my stomach. My stomach automatically clenched at the touch. What the hell was happening to me?

“Um. Maybe this?”

Bane kept her hand right where it was and looked up into my eyes. She said, “You’re in capable hands. If anything, we’ll just look like a bickering, awkward couple. And one of us is definitely awkward.”

“And one of us definitely bickers.”

There she went jabbing a finger into my chest. “You’re both, you know? A bickering, awkward dev.”

I took her hand, dropping it to our sides. “Yeah, yeah.”

We ended up walking on a dangerously narrow pathway alongside the road to a café up ahead. This wasn’t a sidewalk at all, evident by the lack of cement, but Sam and April wanted to try this place that made lattes with coffee grown from this farm. So we went.

We ordered in pairs, which quickly turned into the theme of this trip. I didn’t know what I wanted except something local. A quick decision. No one thought this hard on a coffee order. So lavender and macadamia nut it was.

It was a small place and Bane and I took our drinks outside.

“Don’t you want to spend time with your friends?” she asked.

“It’s crowded in there.” There was barely enough room for Sejal’s glares.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied with an appreciative smile, which fell flat as soon as we were outside, at a small metal table for two. Because from the corner of my peripheral vision, Bane’s little expression of confusion turned to realization, and was promptly followed by her signature smugness.

“Don’t start,” I warned her.

“Did you just get lavender coffee?”

“Don’t even say it.”

“Sunshine and flowers do go together.” She laughed in that devious way of hers, chin turned down, eyes raised to lock gazes dead on like a slightly aggressive way of saying: Behold my outright amusement at your expense.

“Yes. I like fruity, floral things. Get the jokes out of your system.”

Bane simply smiled. “It’s freaking cute.”

“Matches my personality perfectly, doesn’t it?” I asked drolly.

She leaned across the corner of the table and tugged on my sleeve. “You must think it’s somewhat adorable of your parents to name you Sunny because you have a little, teeny smile there.”

“I absolutely do not.”

She tapped my lips. “Boop. Must be a muscle twitch, then.”

For some reason beyond any sound logic, I found myself wanting to lick my lips where her touch left prickling specks of embers. Instead, because that would send the worst signal, I watched the door just behind her.

“My name means ‘sunny,’ you know?” she was saying while the breeze swept through her hair, sending her floral scent crashing into my skin. That was why I always smelled her when she was around, even before I saw her. Bane smelled like flowers. Gardenias, to be exact.

She readjusted some loose strands, tucking them back into her braids. I never thought anything of braids on a woman, but she made them attractive. I focused harder on the building, on the screen portion of the withered old door, willing Sam or April to come out and break this tension rising in my stomach.

Bane was still gabbing away about her aunt naming her and then asked, “Did your parents name you, or…”

My brow quirked up. “Who else would name me?”

She deadpanned. “A relative? A guru? An astrologist?”

“My mom named me. All by herself.”

Bane stared at me, not quite in the eye but somewhere near the vicinity.

“What?” I scowled as she smirked.

“I just want to iron out that little wrinkle between your brows.”

“There’s no wrinkle there. My face is as smooth as a baby’s butt.”

Bane took another sip, the half-melted ice sloshing around. “Did she have high hopes for your personality?”

“Watch it, Bane,” I replied with a hint of appreciation because that was pretty good. I had to hand it to her when it came to her jabs, delivered with accuracy and just the right mix of expression and tone.