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Casey folds her arms, giving us a stern look. “It’s three against two.”

Eye twitching, I turn back to Gio, hoping he’s got more logical arguments up his sleeve. Instead, I find him sporting a wolfish grin.

17/

giovanni

Excavating Dinosaur Ass

I’ve got good news to share with Sophia, but I change course when I discover what she’s done to our room.

“What the . . .” I scan the space, taking in the changes.

Under normal circumstances, this bedroom is the typical double-queen room with a nightstand separating the headboards. Yes, this one is fancier, but now it’s been transformed into something unrecognizable.

Sophia stands on top of the far mattress. She throws a flat sheet over a new clothing line that runs across the room. When the sheet falls into place, I can see what she’s constructing. She’s divided the room, creating a privacy wall between the beds.

“Don’t just stand there, help me!” she barks.

Being alone again triggers memories of our rumble-and-tumble make-out session. My heart beats faster when I step closer. So many hate-banging scenarios could play out on this floor, because let’s be real—there’s not enough space to duke it out on one bed.

But two beds? Yes, please.

And here I thought she’d be six feet under a meltdown of mascara. Instead, she’s furiously planning to make this crazy situation work while simultaneously being put out. The complex juxtaposition of emotions perplexes me. But also, seeing her ruffled over me thrills me more.

Turns out there’s nothing I want more than to share the same space with Sophia, breathe her air, smell the lavender scent of her creamy skin and hair, and be this close to a shooting star. All this despite everything warning me to run away because there’s no doubt my blazing star will pummel me into the earth, creating a city-sized crater. Sophia could be my extinction-level event.

Someday, some poor scientist will be crouched over my rock-embedded bones, excavating my ass like a dinosaur. Gio-tyrannosaurus, or G.T. Rex, was no match for the Hellenous-Kittenous extinction event.

All of this and more is why I’m suspicious of this seemingly innocent development. Instead of helping Sophia, I should be gleefully explaining why I spent the last forty-five minutes getting my original hotel room back.

When I walked in, I was ready to sleep in the main hotel, so she could have this room to herself. Then I could get some work done, but now?

If I backed out, that would mean she constructed this eighth wonder of the architectural world for nothing. I may be delusional, but I can’t help thinking she’s proud of this crazy thing. Because clearly, this bougie sheet tent is the answer to our bougie troubles. I’ll bet she strings twinkle lights across the top when it’s done.

I roll my lips inward, suppressing a smile when she jumps down from the mattress. I settle a finger on my lips and drop my gaze to the floor to hide my fascinated reaction.

“What do you think?” Sophia gestures to her Taj Mahal, appearing proud.

From underneath my lashes, I glance at her fort-castle and back to her. With the way we’ve been at each other’s throats, it’s cute she thinks this would protect her from me, or vice versa.

“Explain what’s happening here.” I swirl a fingertip in the air, more than a little curious about her line of thinking.

“Have you ever seen the movie The War of the Roses?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Should I have?”

“It’s about a couple in the middle of a divorce. They hate each other, but neither wants to move out of their home because they love it so much. It’s a classic 1980s flick. Anyway, they divide the house in half so they can make it through negotiations. She stays in her half of the house; he stays in his.”

“How does it end?” I ask, and she grins.

“Murder.”

“A fight to the death.” I rub my hands together in jest.

“Now that we’re on the same page . . .” She picks up a new folded sheet. “Help me hang this one over there.” She points to an empty cord that runs the opposite length of the room.

I follow her instructions, trying not to appear too captivated by our entire interaction, or the promise of another to-the-death fight.