The Companion Love Trap: A Fake Dating Vacation Rom-Com

Chapter 1

In my life,I”ve had so many labels. Some of them I’d given myself, fully aware of the circumstances I’d placed myself in and the resulting consequences. And while I didn’t always like the repercussions, I accepted them as part of my penance.

But many others were thrust upon me without any consideration as to how I felt about them. In those situations, I was expected to adjust and adapt with a smile and a polite nod. As long as I remembered my place, everything went smoothly—or at least for the person placing the demands. Me, not so much.

Because the thing I hated more than never being able to find the perfect pair of jeans or a comfortable bra was someone else determining my worth for me.

No, thank you. Decline. Do not recommend.

I might be impulsive—my parent’s label—and I might be severely allergic to commitment—my therapist’s label—but the one thing I was not was worthless. I knew my worth, and my dress size didn’t determine it. Not unless size twenty equaled awesome; if so, then go ahead and carry on with your fine-ass self.

See, confidence was not something I lacked; if anything, most people said I was a little too confident. And I got it. I did.

I could be loud and boisterous, always up for a challenge and never backing down from a dare. I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I’d accepted that about myself long ago. It always sucked when a friend dropped me because I knew it wasn’t about me, not really.

Like bananas, I had a window of optimum enjoyment, and it varied based on the person. And I’d just hit the past enjoyable date with my roommate, adding a new label to myself—homeless.

“I really think you’re overreacting, Grace.”

A shoe flew at my head, and I juggled the clothes in my arms as I tried to catch it and duck simultaneously. Grace—a sweet girl I’d met while working at a costume store—screamed as she picked up my favorite handbag, rearing her arm back to launch it at me next.

Her face had become tomato red, her usual perfect ponytail in disarray around her head from throwing my meager possessions one by one at me. She roared like a lion as she let it fly, bending down to grab another item. The girl had stamina.

I didn’t know what was more depressing; seeing all my possessions on the floor at my typically sweet roommate’s feet or that I’d caused said sweet roommate to Hulk out like she was a contestant on American Ninja Warrior.

I really liked my stuff, so it was a toss-up.

“Come on, Grace. Let’s talk about this. Is it really my fault my butt looks so good in yoga pants? These cheeks should be admired! It’s a rite of passage! And isn’t it the patriarchy you should actually be mad at for sexualizing women? Surely not your innocent roommate. I was just practicing my warrior pose, after all.”

Grace’s nostrils flared as she panted like a bull in Pamplona about to run, and I was the red flag. Her eyes narrowed to slits, pure hatred radiating off her porcelain-like features. Gulping, I involuntarily ducked and clutched my clothes to my chest like a shield. She’d gone full viper now, and there was no telling where her venom would land.

“Innocent?” she screeched at a volume usually reserved only for dogs.

Despite knowing better, I nodded. “Yes. Totally innocent.” I gave her my pouty eyes, the ones that had gotten me out of countless tickets and bar tabs.

“You kissed my boyfriend! You filthy cheating slut!”

I might be a lot of things, but I was not filthy, nor was I a cheater. And personally, the word slut was no longer an insult and was used between friends to show affection for something you obsessed over and never wanted to quit. Hello, book slut. I see you. But back to the conversation at hand.

Standing to my full height of five-foot-nine, I pushed my shoulders back, officially done with letting her insult me. Worth mode activated.

“You take that back, Grace! I am not filthy, nor am I a cheater. He came on to me, and I pushed him away. If you should be mad at anyone, it’s Todd!”

I motioned my hand back to the sleazy guy she considered a boyfriend, the one now sporting the black eye I’d given him after he groped and forced himself on me. He then ran to Grace, saying I threw myself at him and punched him when he denied me.

As if, asshat. Learn consent. It’s not that hard.

Grace sneered, clearly beyond reason at this point, as her hands clenched into tight fists and she stomped her foot. I stepped back, fearing she might actually be a bull, and was about to charge me.

“Everyone told me not to let you live with me, but I thought, Ev’s cool, it will be fun. Newsflash, it’s not! So, I’m sorry, but I don’t think this will work out, Beverly.” She kicked the remaining things into the hall and slammed the door, rattling the others along the apartment hallway.

“No, you’re not!” I yelled, my anger now revved up. “And it’s Everly! The B’s silent! You know that and said it just to be mean!”

Screwing up my face, I flipped off the door with both fingers as I cursed her out under my breath. So much for girl code. Not only had she not given me a chance to defend myself, but she’d already made up her mind and had all my possessions in front of the door, waiting to ambush me the second I returned from volunteering. Twatwaffle.

Sighing, I gathered all of my clothes and stuffed them into one of the bags she’d tossed out. Once the hallway was clear of thongs, high heels, and yoga pants, I picked up my stuff and held my head high as I marched down the hallway.

I wouldn’t let Grace and Todd get the best of me. Their actions had dented me a little, but I wouldn’t let this crumble me. See, knowing my worth was my superpower.

Climbing onto the city bus, my mind churned out ideas of where to go from here as I headed to work. Now, you might think that someone as awesome as me would have a kick-ass job, right? Surely, if this plus-sized beauty knew her worth, she had her future figured out too?

Wrong.

Unfortunately, knowing my worth did not equal knowing what I wanted to do with my life. And believe me, I’ve had a lot of jobs on my quest to find my passion. A few were a bit wacky, others strange, and some just downright awful. No one could deny that I hadn’t tried almost every type of profession, though.

Like when I was a cocktail waitress for a bar made entirely out of ice but was expected to wear a bikini. Frozen nips were not a pleasant thing.

Or the time I was a dog groomer and the owner of a pug wanted me to give her dog a faux-hawk. I still have nightmares about that poor dog.

Then there was the hair salon I worked at—note to self, human hair differed from dogs. Who knew?

I’d also been a snake milker, bingo manager, and crime scene cleaner. Those had all been fine at the beginning, but like most of my jobs, something always went screwy a few months in and I either lost interest, messed up, or forgot to go back.

So far this month, I’d been a fortune cookie writer: if you get any that end “in bed,” well, you’re welcome. The company, however, did not find it humorous. Lame.

This was followed by being a professional snuggler; some people were just too sweaty to hug that long, but apparently, you couldn’t tell them that. Oops.

And my latest addition to my resume: dog poop scooper.

Yeah, it wasn’t going to last long. I’d been too entranced by the owner’s perfect smile and six-pack abs to actually listen during the interview. I’d actually thought it was for dog models, so imagine my surprise when they handed me a pooper scooper and bag. Ew.

BTW, if you’re Hank’s owner, you should change his food.

Sincerely,

The woman who picks up his shit.

With all my various jobs and labels over the years, I chalked it up to experience and a really extended journey to find myself. And there was always my volunteer work. Between the teens I mentored, the soup kitchen, and the old folks’ home I visited, I kept myself busy so I didn’t have to think about my future. Plus, it was the one thing I enjoyed most days.

It was now two weeks away from my thirtieth birthday, and I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps I was the problem, after all.

But if there was one thing I was good at, it was picking up the pieces and starting over. I might be adding a new label to myself—homeless—but this was old news.

I so had this.

I did not have this.

It turned out that being homeless was not as fun as it sounded. In fact, it downright sucked. And now, it looked like I was about to be fired… again.

“But, sir, how was I supposed to know the kennels were only for dogs?”

“Everly.” Josh, my incredibly attractive boss, sighed, rubbing his temples like saying my name truly pained him. “It’s just not going to work. I’ll pay you for the week, but don’t return on Monday.”

He turned away, saving me from having to stare at the pity on his face any longer. Out of all the jobs I’d lost, this one hurt the most. Mainly because I knew it was my fault.

Despite what I’d said to Josh, I’d been fully aware of my choice. Hello consequences, we meet again.

It hadn’t been my finest hour to crawl into the kennel van, but I’d been desperate. Add in a few drinks, rain, and the belief I’d wake up before anyone arrived; I’d crawled right into rock bottom.

Holding back the tears I refused to shed, I turned and walked out with my head held high. My hips swished with the movement, my inner diva unwilling to crumble, no matter how much I wanted to. The door shutting behind me felt like a proverbial nail in my coffin, and while I’d never been this low before, I had faith that things would turn around.

They had to.

My paternal grandmother always said even a blind squirrel occasionally found a nut. So, I’d keep searching and pray my next opportunity was right around the corner.

Feeling somewhat hopeful, I made a quick pit stop at the gym my friend worked at, who allowed me to use their buddy pass. A trip to the sauna and a hot shower later, I’d successfully washed the stench of dog poop off me.

Drying my chestnut locks, I curled them into waves that fell down my back, tickling the exposed skin there. Adding some red lipstick and black eyeliner to make my blueish-green eyes pop, I felt like a million bucks in my favorite black mini-dress. I was ready to conquer my search for my nut.

Hello, healthy girl era! It was time to get your mack on. There were so many dicks still left to try.

“Wowza! Look at you, girl. You’re gorgeous,” Jules said as I exited the locker room.

Instantly, I brightened and twirled in all my feminine glory. “It’s amazing what a hot shower can do. Thanks again for letting me use the buddy pass. You should meet me later at Howlers. I’ll get you into VIP.”

Her eyes light up. “That could be fun. I’ll think about it. Be good, Everly.”

“I’m always good.” I giggled as I waved over my shoulder and exited. The night was early in the city, but the vibe was changing already as people ended their workday and headed to their favorite watering holes. And my favorite place—the one that always put me in a good mood—was Howlers.

Part nightclub/part show—Howlers was famous for their dueling pianos, tabletop dancers, and sexy bar show. You couldn’t go an inch without something drawing your attention. The line to get in was long, but the advantage of working a million jobs, you tended to know someone everywhere.

“Jonno! How’s it looking inside?” I asked, hugging the burly bouncer as I approached. He smiled, making the girl in line step back. Possibly, Jonno was scarier when he smiled.

“Baby girl. You’re looking fine tonight.” He took my hand, and I did a spin as he whistled. “Gonna be a lot of broken hearts inside. You performing?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Maybe.” I shrugged, perfecting the coy look. “I haven’t decided yet. Who’s working?”

He lifted his eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “Cruz is manning the bar, and I heard that Phantom might make an appearance tonight.” Jonno watched me, his eyes searing into my skin as I tried to act unaffected by both of those names.

“Oh? That’s cool. It’s been a while since the Phantom has been in.”

“It’s already packed. Some famous photographers and a bevy of models are up in VIP. It’s caused quite the stir.”

I scrunched up my nose, my plan to hide out in VIP crashing to the ground. But if Cruz was here… a throbbing sensation between my legs started, my pussy envisioning his cock and all the glorious things he could do to us. Oh yes, Cruz would need to be on the menu tonight. It had been far too long.

But first, I had a date with my mystery piano guy.

“Guess I’ll bug Cruz,” I sighed dramatically, hoping the desire wasn’t evident in my voice. Jonno smirked, making me believe it wasn’t as concealed as I’d hoped.

“Be gentle, baby girl. You look hot enough to scorch half the men in there.”

“Just half? I need to up my game,” I teased. Kissing his cheek, I patted his shoulder as he lifted the rope to let me in; the girl standing there kicked up a fuss. Jonno’s face had gone back to his scowl; his arms crossed as she continued.

Oh, honey, that is not how to get what you want. Especially with a man like Jonno. You sweet summer child.

The club’s darkness engulfed me as I entered, the energy soaking into my veins with each step I took. The thing I loved about Howlers was the escape. Between the shows, the sex appeal, and the total abandonment of self, I could let go and entirely give into the atmosphere, leaving the labels at the door.

Cruz’s dark eyes immediately met mine as I entered the bar area. As usual, when he worked, his dark hair was pulled up in a top-knot on his head, proving he was the exception to the style. Stubble peppered his angled jaw, showcasing his pink lips, the bottom thicker than the top. His bronze skin shimmered under the neon lights as his muscular and tattooed arms were displayed in his black tank top. Silver necklaces hung from his neck, and several earrings ran along his earlobe. His nose ring twinkled as it caught the light, making me think of his other piercings.

Heat seared my skin as he scanned me from head to toe, taking in every inch of my outfit. His nostrils flared as he got to my shoes; the flirty heels were his favorite. The chemistry between us was palpable, and my body yearned for his touch. I knew he wanted more, but the one label I’d never wear again was girlfriend.

I might be homeless, jobless, and almost thirty. But I would never be attached.