Page 133 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“I was thinking the floor looks comfortable.”

“It doesn’t. That rug is older than my regret.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“That is not the romantic flex men think it is.”

“I wasn’t flexing.”

“You were emotionally squatting.”

I look at her.

She looks at me.

The room gets smaller.

Not because either of us moves.

Because neither of us does.

Then Daisy clears her throat and steps inside. “Okay. Plan. You take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

“No.”

“See? I knew you’d be difficult.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“I’m the host.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“You’re large.”

“That’s not an argument.”

“It is in small rooms.”

“You take the bed.”

“No.”

“Day.”

“Wolfe.”

Puck lifts his head, like even he knows she shouldn’t say it here.

My name in her mouth is worse in this room.

In the truck, it was careful. Here, surrounded by the girl she was and the woman she keeps trying to be, it sounds too close to real.

Daisy’s cheeks flush.

She notices me notice and immediately points toward the rug. “Fine. We’ll both take the floor and let Puck have the bed.”

Puck thumps his tail.