Page 90 of The Casanova Complex

He’s… offering to clean the kitchen?

My mouth falls open. “Wow. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more perfect.”

Bennett grins, waggling his eyebrows, and it’s so silly and ridiculous that I giggle. But also surprisingly thoughtful and sweet.

Elliott starts to gag beside him, folding over at the waist and clutching his stomach as he fake retches.

Boys.

Jesus.

Rolling my eyes, I shrug. “Okay, if you’re sure?”

“We’re sure. Right, my man?” Bennett asks Elliott, who begrudgingly stops the dramatics and nods, flashing me a smile.

“Yeah, we got this.”

Half an hour and the world’s fastest everything shower later, I steal Bennett away from my brother after they finish cleaning up from dinner and drag him up to my bedroom.

“Not gonna lie, feels kinda weird using the front door instead of sneaking through your window,” Bennett says as I close my bedroom door behind us.

Thankfully, Elliott all but sprinted to his room to play video games for the night, and my dad was passed out on the couch before they even finished cleaning the kitchen.

Which leaves… just us. Alone.

In my bedroom.

Which I’ve never really given much of a second thought about until recently. Partially because it’s been happening more frequently, and because every time we are, it seems like we end up skating on a very thin line.

It’s late, and realistically, he probably could’ve gone home after dinner, but I didn’t bring up his leaving, and he didn’t either, so here we are.

Alone.

“You can always leave out the window if you prefer?” I smart back, watching as the playful tilt of his lips widens.

I expect him to walk over to my bed and sit down, but he passes it, heading for my desk instead. His large hand curves around the back of the desk chair, and he sinks down into it.

That’s probably for the best since the last time we were in my bed together, things got heated… fast.

Walking over to the desk, I slide onto the top of it, my feet dangling idly off the side by where he’s sitting.

Bennett looks up at me, and his face softens. “Thank you for tonight. For inviting me to spend Thanksgiving with your family. I know you didn’t have to do that, and… I appreciate it, Merritt. Seriously.”

His words hit me directly in the chest, and it makes something strange form beneath my ribs.

A tug of emotion, like a cord being wound tight.

I push down that surge of emotion that bubbles in my throat and tip my chin, offering him a smile. “It’s nothing. I… liked having you here.”

“Wow.” He whistles, and his blue eyes glint with amusement. “I should’ve recorded that so I can replay it later when I get sad. Merritt St. Pierre likes me. Who would’ve thought?”

I reach out and shove his shoulder.

He’s infuriating. Still.

“You’re not so bad.” I hum with an eye roll. “I guess.”

I think maybe the truth is that Bennett and I are friends now. We’re obviously in this fake dating arrangement, and I’m ridiculously attracted to him, but if you take that away…