Page 62 of The Great Dating Fake Off
And despite it all, I’m disappointed when the door shuts quietly behind her.
Chapter Seventeen
Nora
Sweaty and giggling, I climb on top of Sebastian’s hard body the same way I’d mounted the bull.
—and roll off my cot in real life, landing face-first on the cold floor next to Tairn’s empty travel crate.
“Morning,” Benji intones. He’s sitting with Tairn snoozing on his shoulder like someone slipped a yardstick down the back of his shirt. All traces of last night’s drunk levity are gone as he sips from the paper cup that comes with the tiny coffeemaker in our room. “There are no more pods left. We’ll have to outsource for yours. It’s for the best, because this tastes like tar.”
There’s the Benji I know and love.
I shove up from the floor and force myself to stand. I’m still in last night’s clothes after crawling into this dark room late last night with my tail between my legs. I didn’t want to wake Benji by turning on the lights or rustling through my suitcase.
So I slept in a tank that smells like champagne, a bra that digs into my rib cage, and shorts that feel one size too small in the light of day.
And now I feel like I’m walk-of-shaming around this hotel room.
Guilt roils in my stomach. I smooth my hair, which probably looks like it’s been electrocuted. “What are you doing?”
“I’m grading essays about the sociopolitical ramifications of transitioning to geothermal energy.”
I blink twice. “Uh…neat!” I clap my hands together, summoning energy I do not possess from the great beyond. “Okay, so why don’t I have a quick rinse”—scalding shower to wash off the smell of Sebastian—“and then we can go on a walk before breakfast or something? Hit the gym? Or we can invite your family to lunch and do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Whatever you want.”
It’s his turn to blink twice. “You know you don’t have to be in girlfriend mode every second we’re here, right?”
Nor have I been. Not even close. I was so distracted by Sebastian I forgot my priorities last night. Being a good friend is the top one, because when the wedding ends and Sebastian is gone, Benji will still be there.
“I know I don’t. I just want to do a good job for you.”
“Nora. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I’m having a fine time.” He closes his computer. His almost black eyes nearly glow in the bright light streaming in from the window. “I know I’m not always the most…effusive person.”
I snort-laugh.
“Okay, point taken. I’m never effusive. But I want you to know that I appreciate you. Not just for this week, but always. I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be anyone other than me when we’re together. Ironic, I know, since the point of this trip is to pretend. I guess what I’m saying is I’m grateful I’ve found a friend who just lets me be me.”
“Back atcha, brother.” I cross my arms. “That’s what you are to me, you know. Like a brother.”
“Good. I’m glad to be.” He stares at me long and hard, wearing a smile in his eyes. “You fit right in with my family. I can tell my sister likes you.”
Throat tight, I nod. “You think they’ll hate me when this is all over?”
“I won’t let that happen. I’m going to tell them I was in the wrong in the breakup. They would’ve assumed as much, anyway, since nothing I do is right in their eyes.”
My heart hurts that he’d feel that way. “Benji, no. The whole point of this was so they’d go easy on you for once. Tell them I’m an evil wench.”
His lips twitch. “No one would believe that, Nora. Not even for a second.”
Fondness wells in my chest. “You must be hungover or getting soft in your old age. We can worry about the breakup later. We’ll keep this up as long as you want. Maybe until you do change your mind about dating and meet someone right for you. Do you think you’ll finally come around on setting up a dating profile when we get home?”
“I’d rather take a joyride inside a centrifuge than go on a date with a stranger from an app. I can’t endure the small talk required for that. It erodes my soul. And if I liked a woman, I wouldn’t force her to make small talk with me, because it would be an outrageous waste of her valuable time. Therein lies the dilemma. The right woman for me, if she exists, won’t be found on an app.”
“And where do you think you’ll find her, Benji? Under the couch with your lost socks?”
His lips pull into a line. “You’re worrying about me. Cut that out. I’m happy on my own.”
“I will always worry about you,” I admit.
