Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“Frasier?” Bryn said, her hand on my shoulder. “Frasier.”
“Mm?” Her hand was on my skin, and I briefly wondered if I was still dreaming.
“Sorry to wake you,” she said in a soft voice. “But the party bus is leaving in thirty minutes. I figured you might want some time to get ready before we have to head out.”
I blinked my eyes open, my face pressed against a pillow. “Thanks.” My voice was gravelly from sleep. I pushed away the pillow and sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face.
When I glanced at Bryn again, I realized she hadn’t moved. “You…” She gaped at me. “Bear…you shaved.” Her eyes darted over my face.
Did she love it? Hate it?
I certainly felt different.
I wasn’t clean-shaven by any means, but I’d asked the on-site barber to give it a good trim.
Scruff now lined my jaw, and my skin was smooth and glowing after he’d steamed my face and wrapped me in a warm towel.
I’d taken a picture mid-process for Bryn, knowing she’d appreciate my effort at self-care.
I’d left the barbershop feeling like a million bucks. Part of me wondered why I hadn’t shaved sooner because I felt somehow both naked and free without the beard that I’d let go for so long.
Bryn lifted her hand, cupping my cheek. I loved the way she was looking at me.
As if she was seeing me for the first time, and she liked what she saw.
“It looks really nice. You look really nice.” She smiled up at me, and it was like a punch to the gut.
“And it looks like someone’s been moisturizing. ”
I laughed, and she lowered her hand, taking a step back, eyes on the floor. It was as if the sun had retreated behind a cloud, and I hated how shy and withdrawn she was all of a sudden. This wouldn’t do, not if we were going to convince her family we were a couple.
I still couldn’t believe I’d suggested this charade. But when it came to Bryn, I’d do anything for her, even if she didn’t realize it. Even if it cost me…everything.
“You were right,” I said. “It does feel good to take care of my skin. But…” I inclined my head. “You might have to come up with a new nickname for me.”
“Oh no.” She laughed, shaking her head. “You’ll always be Bear to me.”
“Even without all my fur?” I joked, feeling as if we were on more solid ground once more.
She tilted her head, evaluating me. “You know why I call you that, right? And it’s not because of the beard.”
“Because I’m a grumpy bastard.”
“No.” She rolled her eyes, and it made me smile. “It’s because you give the best bear hugs.”
I couldn’t believe that was the reason—at least, not the entire reason. But if she loved my hugs, then I would keep giving them to her. I opened my arms, and she stepped into them. I rested my chin on her head, taking a moment to center myself.
But the longer we stood there, the more I realized just how little clothing was separating us. She had on a robe, and I could feel her nipples, hard and brushing against my bare chest. And if I wasn’t careful… I released her and took a step back before my dick could get even more excited.
I cleared my throat. “How was the spa?”
Her skin was glowing, and she looked rested and relaxed. Beautiful.
“Amazing,” she practically moaned, which wasn’t helping my situation. “You should definitely get a massage while we’re here.”
I chuckled. “I planned to.”
“I’m almost ready. I can get dressed out here if you want to use the bathroom,” she offered.
“You sure?” I asked.
She nodded, so I thanked her and grabbed my clothes and phone before shutting myself in the bathroom.
I almost didn’t recognize the man staring back at me in the mirror.
I looked different…energized or refreshed or something.
Starting my day with an intense workout had helped, as had being pampered at the barbershop, followed by a hot shower and a long nap.
I should’ve used some of that time to call my mom back, but I wasn’t sure I was in the right headspace to have the conversation I assumed was coming.
I could be wrong. But the timing of her call, coupled with the missed calls from an unknown number, meant I probably wasn’t.
My brother had this irritating habit of reaching out—if you could even call it that—at the worst possible times.
Not that any time was great. Not after everything he’d done.
I pulled on my pants, and I was buttoning my shirt when my phone chimed with an incoming message. I checked my phone, relieved to see that it was from Gabe.
Gabe: How’s it going?
I knew he was referring to my relationship with Bryn, but I sent him a picture I’d taken of the beach before my morning run. I slipped on my watch and fixed my hair.
Gabe: Damn. Any progress on Operation GTFOOTFZ?
I stared at the screen, trying to decipher his long-ass acronym.
Me: Are you whiteboarding custom license plate ideas again? Because I’ve got to tell you, that one is terrible. Got foot fuzz?
Gabe: Operation Get the fuck out of the friend zone.
Gabe: You know…that golden opportunity we talked about?
Gabe: So…progress?
How the hell was I supposed to answer that? Did a fake relationship count as progress? In some ways, yes. But it also felt like two steps back.
Me: It’s complicated.
Gabe: Then un-complicate it.
I clenched my phone, annoyed more with myself than my friend. Though his commentary wasn’t helping matters.
For all my big talk of having no regrets, I clearly still had reservations. Not about Bryn, of course. I was crazy about her.
My heart and body were totally on board, but my mind…my mind wouldn’t fucking shut up. I sighed, thinking of her tattoo. Of everything it symbolized. Seeing it on her wrist had been like being doused with a bucket of ice water.
Derek.
A man who had meant so much to both of us. Who still meant so much to us.
Gabe: Stop playing it safe, Fizzy. You want it, you gotta go for it.
Oh, I wanted Bryn, all right. I just wasn’t sure if I should go for it now that we were pretending to be a couple. I was afraid our fake relationship might only confuse things even more and make her question my true feelings.
That said, I was encouraged by last night. By the way Bryn had responded to me both then and when I’d given her the signed copy of the book. The chemistry was certainly there. Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, I thought that maybe I had a real shot at turning this into something genuine.
A glance at my watch told me that it was almost time to go. I brushed my teeth and then
slid my phone into the pocket of my linen pants.
I cracked the bathroom door ajar without peering outside. “Is it safe to come out now?”
“You can come out,” Bryn said.
I opened the door and my jaw dropped. She seemed to have a similar reaction, freezing in place.
She looked fucking phenomenal. I mean… Damn.
She was wearing this colorful, patterned dress that wrapped around her waist, snatching it.
It hugged her breasts, pushing them up. Then, it had this sexy little cutout that gave the most tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage and made me think she must not be wearing a bra.
It was hard to decide where to look. My eyes kept bouncing from her glossy pink lips to her bare shoulders. Her hair was down in loose waves, and she looked sun-kissed and beautiful.
I strode over to her, admiring the dip of her waist, the expanse of skin revealed by the low back of her dress.
It was a good thing everyone thought we were dating because I wasn’t going to be able to take my eyes off her.
And as much as I hated our fake relationship, it did have one thing going for it—it finally gave me an excuse to look my fill.
I took Bryn’s hand in mine and gave her a spin before pulling her back in to me. “You…” I kissed her cheek. “Are stunning.”
She dipped her head, cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. “Thank you. So are you. I mean—” God, seeing her flustered because of me was gratifying. “You look nice. Handsome.”
“Thank you.” I slid my phone from my pocket. “Want to take a picture real quick?”
She looked at me, surprise lighting her features. “You hate being photographed.”
I loved that she knew that. Knew that I endured it for the fans because I appreciated them.
But I hated when people took a photo of me without my permission.
I knew it was all part of the job, but it was a huge invasion of privacy.
I would much rather someone have the balls to ask me for a photo than try to sneak one.
I lifted a shoulder. “Not when I’m with you.”
I wrapped one arm around her then held up the other, phone in hand. The couple staring back at us on the screen was happy and relaxed. I snapped a few shots, hoping Bryn could see what I saw, before lowering my phone.
“Will you send those to me?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said, immediately doing just that.
While Bryn went to grab her purse, I sent my favorite shot to Gabe to prove that I was trying to un-complicate things, as he’d said. A second later, my phone started buzzing with alerts. But when I glanced at it, it wasn’t Gabe. The group chat was blowing up.
(Puck Dynasty Group Chat)
Boone: Damn, Bear. What happened to your fur?
Carson: Is that Bryn? She looks good. Where are you?
Zayn: Doesn’t look like LA.
Boone: Wait. Are you guys together now? Is this a thing?
Zayn: If so, fucking finally.
Carson: Nah. We all know they’re just “friends.”
Boone: At least when they finally admit they’re more than friends, we’ll have the perfect couple’s moniker already picked out. Fryn
Zayn: Brasier
While those jackasses workshopped our couple’s moniker, I scrolled back up and saw that no… No. I hadn’t accidentally sent the picture of Bryn and me to the group chat. Gabe had. Traitor.
I went back to our solo text.
Me: What the fuck, man?
Gabe: What? It’s a good picture.
Gabe: And you’re welcome.
Me: For what?
Gabe: I helped you stake your claim.