Nothing will come of it. I can sustain the lie for a while. No one will know. And then at some point, we break up. No worries.
“I have an idea!” Lars’s booming voice drags all attention his way. “I would love to meet your partners, and I think they deserve to join us in our future events. What if we invite them to take part in our little tournament, and each of the couples can be a team? Astrid and Martin can then join forces.”
No, no, NO. My stomach spins, and this time I’m sure all the beer and Spanish food won’t stay in my system.
“Brilliant idea, Lars.” Astrid approves.
Martin gives her a high-five and says, “We’ll team up.”
“Alex would LOVE it!” George celebrates. “We’ll be Team Georgelex! I’m so in!”
“I’m sure Mads will be up for it. I’ll ask him.” Ellen smiles.
“I’ll ask Anika too,” Chiara says, looking excited.
“Lia will join us whenever we can get a babysitter,” Simon tells us.
“Lotte will come if there are drinks. Margaritas, especially.” Lars laughs.
“Then let’s make sure we’ll have plenty!” Astrid says.
I hear all this without moving a muscle, completely shocked. I can’t believe my ears. I want to vanish from the face of the Earth and never be found.
“Our next event is a trivia contest in my house,” Lars announces. He then looks at me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I shrink in my seat, just the ghost of me left on the chair. “I look forward to meeting your boyfriend, Sol!”
I want to scream, slap myself, hide under the table, and never let myself drink a single ounce of alcohol again. Leaving Denmark on the next available flight is also an appealing option. I’m frozen in this restaurant chair, however. Stuck to my lie like chewed gum on the sole of a shoe.
So I do the only thing I can do. I give him a half smile and reply, “Me too.”
With the grin of a sober-enough person who won’t forget any of this in the morning, Lars turns to talk to the others without realizing the ambiguity in my answer.
I’ve been checking Cinder every five minutes since I had tapas with my coworkers. In my desperation, I even give likes to guys I would normally not be interested in.
Truth be told, I must have given glass slippers to half the single male population in Copenhagen in the past ten days. I’m like Prince Charming, but my Cinderella seems to be nowhere in this city.
Most of them I discarded in our text conversations. I went out with one last Friday, one on Tuesday, and one yesterday. They were all either weird or impolite, or we had so little in common I would lose that promotion the moment I showed up with them in front of Lars and he noticed we couldn’t possibly be a couple.
Today is Saturday, my last chance, because tomorrow is the second event for my group in the Fun Season, and I’m supposed to bring my Danish boyfriend.
I’m sitting at the dining table, desolate, eating a bowl of ice cream while scrolling Cinder, when Erik comes in from the gym. I glance up at him, and he ignores me, as usual.
I watch from the corner of my eye as he enters the bathroom and locks the door. I’ve been trying to ignore Erik all these days, convinced that I could solve my situation without help. But it’s unrealistic now. I mean, it has been from the start—who gets a boyfriend in a few days?
Now I either find someone who will pretend to be my boyfriend, or I might as well give up on this promotion. The humiliation of coming up with an excuse for my boyfriend not attending, and all the questions about who he is...
No, I won’t do that. At least not without one last attempt.
Erik starts the shower, and the soothing sound of water falling cradles my brain, lulling my thoughts into a decision.
He unlocks the door and heads toward his cave, but my “Hey, Erik” freezes him midway across the dining room, two steps away from my chair.
Wearing only a towel.
I look down, blushing, but my eyes rise back to his chest, pulled by the magnetic view of his well-defined muscles. Jesus.
That’s a surprisingly accurate description, in fact. With his full beard and long wet hair falling over his shoulders, Erik looks like Jesus. On steroids.
Not that I think he uses steroids. His body looks naturally worked out.
Wonderfully worked out...
“Yes?” He waits for me to say whatever I need.
“Oh.” I blink, embarrassed, and fix my posture. “Sorry, I just wanted to...” God forgive me.
I lose my thread, my heart hammering against my chest. How does one ask a guy to pretend to be their boyfriend? A guy who is wearing only a towel, with drops of water beading his chest and dripping from his perfect hair—
I clear my throat, feeling my mouth go as dry as the Sahara. It’s such a bad idea... But I won’t beg for a favor this time. I will negotiate.
“I have a work proposition for you.”
He squints at me, suspicious. I swallow my nervousness and stand my ground.
“A work proposition?” he repeats slowly, one eyebrow angling.
“Yes. A deal. If you are up for it.”
Oh, gods, his smell is fantastic. Fresh citrusy manly cologne spreads through the room, and I take a discreet deep breath to inhale the glorious scent.
