Page 86 of My Favorite Holidate
She rolls her eyes. “And you’re over six feet.”
“Six one.”
She nods likeI told you so. “Exactly. And I’m, wait for it, not six feet. So I’ll take it.”
“This is not a logic problem. It’s a manners issue,” I say, sharply. “You’re not taking it.”
She snaps her gaze to me. “Did you just give me an order?”
I did. And I sounded like a dick. But I don’t relent. “Yes. Because there is no way I’m letting you sleep on that couch.”
She crosses her arms. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so,” I reply. As Fable narrows her eyes at me, I can see the gears turning in her head. She’s always been quick-witted and fiercely independent, and I know she won’t back down without a fight. Something in me wants that fight. I’m not sure why, but I do.
“You can’t just dictate where I sleep, Wilder,” she retorts, her voice laced with defiance. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
Of course she is. I don’t doubt that for a second. But a flicker of challenge crosses her eyes, daring me to push back even harder. It’s a turn-on.
“This is not about control, Fable,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the current inside me. “This is about chivalry. And as the gentleman here, I’m taking the couch.”
“This is chivalrous?”
“What would you call it?”
She crosses her arms and stares right at me. “You’re bossy.”
“I am the boss.”
“Yes, back at work. But right here,” she says, pointingto the floor, “we’re in this situationship together. And this is a ridiculous solution.” She takes a step closer to me, her voice low and intense. “You can’t control every aspect of this fake relationship, Wilder.”
She’s so infuriatingly headstrong. Like a goddess whipping up a storm. I should stop this argument, but it’s not in my nature to step down. “I’m not controlling it. It just makes sense.”
“You can’t decide for me, Wilder. We both deserve a comfortable place to sleep, and that bed looks plenty big enough for both of us.”
The bed.
Dear god, the fucking bed.
That’s the issue. That’s why I can’t back down. The thought of sharing a bed with her is too alluring. Actually doing it, though, would be my downfall. I would reach for her at night. I would press a kiss to her shoulder as I was dozing off. In the middle of the night, when the world went calm and still, I’d wrap her in my arms and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. LikeI’m so hung up on you.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is the worst idea. How the hell did this whole situation go so wrong?
Because you’re fake dating, you fuckwit!
And on that note, the voice inside my head has called me a fuckwit for the first time. I need to get a grip. I gave in to my desires in the office. I can’t keep doing it, and I can’t be dangerously close to her. I take a moment to gather my thoughts, breathing in hard, letting it fuel me. But I reach the same conclusion on the bed situation. I dig my heels in harder. “No, Fable. I won’t budge on this.”
Fable’s eyes narrow. “And who are you to decide where I sleep?”
“I’m your fake boyfriend,” I reply, my voice steadydespite the tension crackling between us. “And it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re comfortable and safe.”
She huffs, her lips forming a stubborn line. “I can take care of myself, Wilder. I don’t need you playing the hero.”
The tension between us crackles like electricity, sending hot sparks down my spine. “It’s not about playing hero,” I explain, taking a step closer to her and ignoring her dangerous suggestions we share a bed. “And it’s not right for you to sleep on that couch so I will.”
She remains defiant. “What if I want to sleep on the couch?”
She probably thinks she has me in a corner. That she’s caught me on a technicality. But watch this. “Then we’ll both sleep on the couch,” I declare, crossing my arms in solidarity.