Chapter Three Maren #3
“You do not get a vote,” Griffin said.
“I am captain.”
“You delegated emotional consequences five minutes ago.”
“And now I am reclaiming selective authority.”
Ava appeared beside him. “I also approve.”
“You definitely do not get a vote,” Griffin said.
Ava smiled. “I’m the snack shack.”
Everyone nodded as if this answered everything.
Griffin looked betrayed by democracy.
Maren held up her phone. “We will post three pose options. The winning vote gets recreated. One photo. That is it.”
“What are the options?”
“Wholesome.”
“Good.”
“Dramatic.”
“Define dramatic.”
“Badly.”
“No.”
“And romantic.”
The lawn went feral.
Griffin stared at her.
Maren smiled like her heart had not kicked hard at the word.
Romantic meant nothing. It was content. It was a pose. A joke. A visual hook. She had done fake romantic content before, usually with products, pastries, or couples who paid her to make their relationships look less tense than they were.
This was different only because Griffin Hayes looked at the word romantic like it had thrown a match between them and waited.
“Absolutely not,” he said.
Maren lifted one brow. “Afraid?”
“You need a new tactic.”
“Not if this one keeps working.”
“It does not work.”
“Then say yes.”
His eyes narrowed.
The crowd started chanting.
“Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.”
Griffin looked around like he was mentally filing a complaint with society.
Maren should have enjoyed it completely.
Mostly, she did.
But underneath the teasing, a strange nervousness moved through her.
Because if he said no, she could laugh. She could make him the responsible wall again and move on. The joke stayed outside her. Easy.
If he said yes, then she would have to stand close to him beneath lights, inside a frame, while the internet picked what they looked like together.
Pretend.
Obviously.
Still.
Pretend had a way of exposing things when the wrong person was involved.
Griffin looked at her, and the chant faded from Maren’s awareness.
“You want me to say yes?” he asked.
She did not know why the question felt private.
It should not have.
There were twenty people around them, at least ten phones pointed their way, Tyler vibrating with glee, Beckett possibly levitating from artistic purpose.
But Griffin asked it like the answer mattered.
Like he would not move unless she meant it.
Maren swallowed.
Then smiled.
“Only if you can handle it.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
Briefly.
So briefly she might have imagined it if every nerve in her body had not immediately filed a report.
When his eyes returned to hers, something had changed.
Not loosened.
Focused.
“Fine,” he said.
The lawn exploded.
Maren’s stomach dropped through the dock.
Oh.
Fine was not yes.
Fine was worse.
Fine sounded like Griffin Hayes stepping onto the ice after deciding the game mattered.
Tyler launched the sand pail into the air. Neon cards scattered like confetti.
“CHALLENGE ONE ACCEPTED!”
Cooper looked at the falling cards. “Littering.”
Nate slapped Griffin on the shoulder. “Proud of you.”
Griffin did not look away from Maren.
“This is one photo,” he said.
“One photo,” she agreed.
“No kissing.”
The lawn booed.
Maren ignored the heat climbing her neck. “I did not say kissing.”
“You thought it loudly.”
“I did not.”
His gaze held hers. “Maren.”
There it was.
Her name as a warning again.
Her pulse was becoming a liability.
She stepped back, lifting her phone like distance and technology could save her. “I am posting the poll.”
“Show me first.”
“Controlling.”
“Careful.”
“Spiritual khakis.”
“Post.”
She posted the options.
BAD IDEA BET, CHALLENGE ONE:
Griffin and Maren take one official promo photo.
Pick the pose:
A. Wholesome team spirit
B. Dramatic enemies-to-content
C. Romantic almost-kiss
The votes started immediately.
Maren watched them climb.
A had no chance.
B put up a brief fight.
C shot ahead like the internet had smelled blood.
Tyler fell to his knees. “Romance is undefeated!”
Ava covered her face with one hand, laughing.
Nate’s grin turned wicked.
Beckett whispered, “I need lighting.”
Griffin stared at the poll.
Maren stared too.
C. Romantic almost-kiss.
Eighty-two percent.
Then eighty-four.
Then eighty-seven.
Her throat went dry.
It was just content.
One photo. One pose. One joke.
Her job was to make things look real.
That was all.
Then Griffin stepped close enough that his shoulder brushed hers as he looked down at the screen.
Not accidental this time.
Not quite.
His voice was quiet, pitched beneath the shouting.
“Looks like your bad idea won.”
Maren lifted her eyes to his.
The string lights caught in his dark gaze, turning all that control into something warmer. Something worse.
She smiled because smiling was safer than stepping back.
“Careful, Hayes,” she said. “You sound nervous.”
His eyes moved over her face.
Slowly enough to be a problem.
“I am not nervous,” he said.
Then the photographer light near the booth clicked on behind them, bright and sudden.
Griffin looked toward it.
Maren did too.
And Tyler shouted the words that made every person on the lawn scream.
“Almost-kiss pose in five!”