I pull my wrist away at the same moment I start to connect the dots. “Are you responsible for this?”
I pin my gaze on Luke and he blinks me away, confirming my thoughts.
“Luke!” I say, smacking him on his bicep.
“Hey.” Luke puts his hand out defensively.
“You told them we were married?” I say loudly, both mad and utterly embarrassed. I try to plant a smile on my face, to pretend like we’re joking around, but my fury seeps through.
Luke winces, holding up a hand to block me. He gives a shy smile.
“It was the only way to check in early,” he says, still holding up a defensive posture.
“How do you know?” I cross my arms across my chest.
Seeing this as a sign that I’m done with my attack, he lowers his hands. “I called the hotel while you were in the bathroom. They wouldn’t let us check in early until I said we were here for our honeymoon.”
I roll my eyes at him. “That’s bad karma, Luke.”
He gives a playful shrug. “Anything for my blushing bride.” He chuckles under his breath.
I feel the heat rise to my face again, but before he can notice, I reach across the bed and throw a pillow at him.
I have no idea how to handle him. I have no idea how I’m supposed to handle this week when Luke is going aroundtelling people we’re here on our honeymoon. All while he’s here, waiting to confess his feelings to me.
The exhaustion from the day weighs on me all at once. I throw myself back on the bed and cover my face with my hands. I start laughing, not sure if it’s actually funny but positive that if I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry.
It’s a bit ridiculous. I feel like I’m living out a cruel sitcom that keeps getting worse as time goes on. Two people go on vacation together. One has feelings for the other, and they have to share one bed. But wait, there’s more—the one who has feelings tells people that they’re on their honeymoon.
“It’s funny!” Luke says, coming to sit next to me on the bed and bringing the champagne with him. He’s right. It is funny, but not for the reason he’s thinking. It’s funny because it’s all just so ridiculous. “I mean, if we pretend to be on our honeymoon, who knows what other free stuff we’ll get.”
“I’m not pretending to be your fiancée.” I turn to look at him, how close he is. This closeness used to be natural. But with me lying down and him sitting up, staring at me? I’m not so sure anymore.
“Would being my pretend fiancée be that bad?” He gives me his best puppy dog face, but this time it isn’t going to work. I can’t risk Luke getting the wrong idea about us. It’s time to remember where the line in our friendship is.
“I’ll take the champagne,” I say, pulling the bottle from him. I’m not going to drink it, though the idea of forgetting about all of this is tempting.
Chapter 10
Luke
When I grab our luggage from the car, I update our parking on my phone app so we can park overnight. With six p.m. to nine a.m. being free, it ends up being only a couple bucks.
Back at the hotel, the woman at the front desk gives me a knowing grin. I hold back my smirk, thinking of how mad Harper was when she found out I told the front desk we were here on our honeymoon. I had known she’d be mad, of course, but part of me hoped she would have jumped in on the plan. She’s probably right that it’s bad karma, but if she had said she wanted to go the entire vacation pretending to be my fiancée, I would have been okay with it.
Harper and me being married is a daydream I never dare to touch, because as Wes put it, I enjoy torturing myself. If being forever friend-zoned means keeping Harper in my life, then I guess I’m okay with it. But for now, it’s fun to pretend that the two of us are more than that, even if it’s only in my head.
When I step into our room, the lights are still on and Harper is curled up on the bed. It doesn’t look like she’s shifted muchsince I left. The champagne bottle is still sitting next to her, untouched. At the most, she’s just rolled onto her side and passed out. She didn’t bother to grab a pillow or get under the blankets, but I’m sure it’s still comfier than the plane.
I pull the curtains closed and turn off the lights. I grab the bottle of champagne and place it back on the desk.
Harper is on one side of the bed, but her hand drifts outward to the middle. I climb in next to her, not sure what the protocol is for sharing a bed with your best friend that you have a crush on, but I try to give her space as I lie back, head on the pillow.
Having Harper already asleep next to me makes it easier to settle into bed. My mind keeps me awake for longer than I’d like, nervous energy making me think of how much I’d prefer to reach out and wrap my arms around her.
Wes was right. I’m a masochist.
Eventually I roll away and keep my back to her. It feels like a safer option and allows me to pretend she isn’t there.
