Page 63 of Playing Pretend

My pulse pounds. Thunderous and deafening. “What if I said yes?” I meet his gaze, his jaw ticking.

“Then I’d feel obliged to make up for my fucking deficiencies.”

I’m playing with fire. Scorching my fingertips. The game isn’t worth the scars.

“I’m tired.” I roll away, curling onto my side. “And still a little drunk. It’s best for all involved if we cut this conversation short so I can pass out.”

CHAPTER12

Rome

Doesthat mean she faked it?

Did I fail her like everyone else?

I stare at her profile, my need for answers agonizing. “Tell me the truth and I’ll kill the lights.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” She thumps her pillow. “Please don’t force me to sleep on the sofa.”

I wouldn’t let her. No way in hell.

So I reluctantly cave to her demands, figuring I’ve already put her through enough high-octane situations for one day.

“To be continued tomorrow then.” I reach for the bedside table and flick off the lamp, my frustration palpable.

“Nope,” she mutters. “This topic is dead and buried, buddy.”

She said that on purpose, deliberately pigeonholing me in the friend zone.

I grit my teeth through the annoyance. Glare my building aggravation at the ceiling. “Fine,buddy.Good night.”

Sleep isn’t an option. I lay there questioning every move I’ve made since our arrival at this godforsaken resort, not succumbing to slumber until I’ve spent hours staring into the darkness.

When I eventually wake, it’s still dark, and I haven’t budged an inch since sunrise. I smile though, like the fucking Cheshire cat as Piper remains snuggled against my side, one leg straddling my thigh, her arm draped across my stomach.

I may not have claimed victory over conversation last night, but I definitely won the spoils of battle. I should’ve dismantled her pillow wall the first night, because she’s meant to be here. Against me. All over me.

It’s her fear that’s concerning.

Whenever I think I’m succeeding in taking us to a new level, she proves me wrong.

It doesn’t seem to matter that our chemistry is irrefutable. Or our bond unbreakable. She refuses to budge where our friendship is concerned. She’s scared of change, and I can’t risk pushing her over the edge.

Problem is, I’m too fucking stubborn to give up.

She groans. Slowly shifts.

I hear her swallow. Sigh. Then she stiffens.

I tighten my arm around her, anticipating her scramble for separation.

“Goddamnit, Rome.” She pushes up on one arm, shoving at my chest. “Why did you have to move the pillows?”

“What’s the problem?” I play it cool as she wiggles out of my hold, looking entirely gorgeous with her tangled, unruly hair and eyes still lazy from sleep. “Since when can’t friends snuggle?”

“Do you snuggle with Rett?” She raises an incredulous brow.

“Sometimes.” I shrug. “Your brother prefers to call it spooning.”

---