“Are you sure you’re okay with me sleeping in the same bed? I have no issue sleeping on the floor.”
His tone, more serious than before, has me questioning whose comfort he’s concerned about. After all, hadn’t I already stated I’d be fine with sleeping in the same bed? I guess it was ridiculous to think he wouldn’t be as uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed as I am.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Unless you want to sleep on the floor?” My question comes out hesitant, unsure of how he’ll respond.
“No, but why don’t we put a few pillows between us instead? That way, we’re both a little more comfortable.” He says it so matter-of-factly that a small twinge of pain starts in my chest at his tone.
“Sure, that’ll be fine.” I try my best to keep my voice steady when I reply.
Shaking off the feeling of rejection, I remind myself he’s not myrealboyfriend. This is what I agreed to. A simple, mutually beneficial business transaction between two acquaintances. There’s no reason to feel hurt that he should want a wall between us all night.
As he grabs the pillows from the window seat, I watch him from the other side of the bed. He’s bathed in the moonlight streaming in through the window as a strand of hair falls against his forehead, and my breath involuntarily hitches at the sight.
I can admit that Theo is an attractive man. Attractive enough to drum up an insatiable need to reach my hands out and run my fingers through his hair or inhale his scent every time he gets close.
But I refuse to let anyone get in the way of me securing a job that puts me back on track to complete the plan I set forth years ago. I won’t throw away my dream career for a mere attraction to this man.
As he moves back toward the bed, many pillows in tow, he catches me watching him. I can’t quite read the expression on his face, and I look away quickly, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.
For a moment, I think whatever attraction I’m feeling toward him is mutual, but I’m quick to push past that thought. To think this man would be remotely attractedto me the same way I am to him is ridiculous. He’s using me to get a job, the same way I am with him. I already feel like I’m compromising my moral code by getting a job this way. There’s no way I’m going to sleep my way into my dream career.
Theo throws the pillows on the bed, and I begin to make the wall Theo so enthusiastically suggested we build. Grabbing a few items from my suitcase at the end of the bed, I set them on the nightstand.
“What’re you doing?” Theo asks me, crossing his arms as he stands on the other side of the mattress.
“Getting ready for bed,” I say, motioning toward the pillows.
He smiles. “Okay, but that’s my side of the bed.” He points at where I’m standing on the left side of the mattress.
I look between him and the bed. “You can’t be serious,” I say, shocked that he sleeps on the same side of the bed as me. He was so willing to sleep on the floor, yet the possibility of me taking his side of the bed seems to be a problem.
“You also always sleep on the left side of the bed?” I ask, not convinced that someone like Theo would be so particular about this.
“No,” he responds. Well, what the hell then? I’ve been told I’m weird for this, but it’s part of my nighttime routine. I always sleep on the left side of my bed. Even in my twin-sized bed back home, I sleep more toward the left than the middle or the right side.
“I don’t always sleep on the left side,” he says.
“Well, okay then, you can take that side,” I say,motioning to the other side of the mattress, a little irritated he brought this topic up to begin with.
“I can’t,” he claims. “That side”—he points at where I’m standing—“is closest to the door. Therefore, I have to be the one to sleep there. Considering you’re so worried about being murdered out here, I would think you would’ve thought about that.” He takes a few steps around the bed, reasserting his insistence on the subject.
“Fine,” I say, moving to the other side of the bed. “You’re right, if an axe murderer breaks in, I’d rather him take you first.” I smile at him as I grab my bonnet and hair care products from the nightstand and move toward the other side of the bed.
“Don’t worry, Sienna. I’d happily take an axe through the heart for you.” Theo smiles at me as he pulls back the covers on his side of the bed, and my stomach flutters at his words. I watch as the mattress dips beneath his weight, the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath his shorts. Thankfully, I chose to change into athletic shorts and a T-shirt before dinner so I could avoid having to change in front of Theo tonight.
I’m prepping my curls for the night when Theo asks, “So, why architecture?”
The answer comes to me as easily as my name. As I pile my curls on top of my head, securing it with a loose silk scrunchy and working it into the silky fabric of my bonnet, I reply. “There’s something really beautiful about the makeup of a building and the intricate details that go into a design. Architecture is art, but with structure. It allows me to express myself creatively, but it also imposesspecific rules that must be followed. The duality of the field made me fall in love with it.”
I cringe at my use of the word “love” with Theo, and to avoid any more charming remarks from him tonight, I continue, “What about you? Why work at the family company?” Once my curls are secure for the night, I pull back the covers and crawl into bed next to Theo. Well, next to the wall of pillows.
Theo sighs, and I catch a glimpse of his arm being thrown up to rest on top of his head as he relaxes into the bed.
“He may be an asshole at times, but I look up to Roman. All my brothers, really. It’s less about working at the family company and more about working with family.”
I hum my understanding, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I decide to continue the conversation to avoid the long stretch of silence growing between us.
“I don’t think Roman likes me very much. I’m worried I’ve made a bad impression. Are you sure he’s going to help me out?”
