Page 19 of The Great Dating Fake Off
I don’t mean it to sound like a question, but it comes out that way regardless.
“I don’t know how long Benji needs me to keep this up,” she admits, peering over her shoulder. “Even if we’re ‘done’ at the end of the week, it still may take a little while to relay that message to his family.”
“Right. So, this”—I gesture between us—”is not a thing we can entertain. Agreed?”
A blush colors her cheeks. “Agreed.”
Benji glances our way with an air of impatience.
“Last thing,” I say. “Can we not tell our respective partners that I almost asked you out? I think that would just complicate things further.”
Alessia would try to release me from the arrangement out of guilt—her default emotion for needing anything, ever, is guilt—and I don’t want to risk Benji’s ire.
Nora nods, chewing her lip. “Okay. Because you didn’t, technically.”
If she wants to get technical, her Redwood tree of a “boyfriend” cock-blocked me at the bookstore, but there’s no point in splitting hairs.
She makes her way back to Benji’s side. I trail behind her, forcing myself not to pay close attention to how she walks.
Commence with the mind erasing.
“Good timing,” Benji says as we file in beside our partners. “It’s our turn to check in. And not a minute too soon, because I need to get out of this damn lobby before Tairn gets lonely.”
Alessia looks at me sidelong. “Who the hell is Tairn?”
Chapter Five
Sebastian
Cocktail hour—or as the itinerary called it, “Mingle till you Tingle”—is in full swing by the time Alessia and I arrive at The Malted Moose, the restaurant that takes up much of the first floor of the main resort tower.
The restaurant has its own designated bar and lounge space where the families have gathered. I don’t think the management, who staffed one bartender and one cocktail waitress this evening, was prepared for the onslaught of drink orders that would result from these two families getting tanked in the name of hello.I’m inching toward Medicare age by the time Alessia and I get our drinks. Gin and tonic never tasted so good.
Alessia leans her back against the edge of the wooden bar, crossing one ankle over the other, and I follow her lead.
I take a long sip. “The pour is strong. I may even be tingling.”
She lifts her glass to mine. “Tingling is fine. It’s the mingling you gotta watch out for.”
We pre-gamed in “our” (my) room for the night’s festivities, so this is already my third drink of the evening. I’m pleasantly warm and loose as I take in the lounge. There’s a divide down the middle, an empty sliver of floor space that no one seems inclined to cross unless they are going to and from the bar. Alessia’s family is clustered on the far side of the room near a huge stone fireplace, keeping their drinks close to their chests. The bride’s side—Benji’s side—is hobnobbing around the high tables.Dirty looks are thrown from both directions.
“We’ll make the rounds as soon as Nonna Gloria arrives. No need to rush it.” Alessia decides aloud.
My focus stutters as Nora and Benji enter the lounge. I lean back against the bar and count my ice cubes as I try not to stare.
But it’s hard not to.
Nora looks damn good tonight. Her dark hair is piled high on her head with a few pieces loose, showing off the slope of her neck. She’s back in those clear-rimmed glasses, and her dress hugs her body tight, hitting just above her knee. It’s an alluring red that draws the eye like dancing flames. Her strappy high heels are the same color as her legs, making them appear even longer. Overall, though, she can’t be more than five three, maybe five four.
Dynamite comes in small packages.
Alessia snorts. “You’re even more obvious when you’re drunk.”
My spine stiffens. “What are you talking about?”
She nods toward the lounge’s entry. “Oh, just that you want to bend our new friend over there into a pretzel and take a bite.”
That very specific image twists at my gut until it’s uncomfortably tight. I take a swig before replying. “That’s a vivid metaphor. Also, you’re wrong.”
