9. Juliet
Juliet
We leave the sugar-scented room, and my hand is wrapped up in Parker’s. I’m not going to lie, it’s weird to hold his hand. Not because holding hands is funny or because it’s fake, but because it’s Parker.
I’ve known him practically his whole life but never glanced at him twice until yesterday.
And now he’s pretending to be my boyfriend so that Axel will leave me alone.
I have no idea if it’ll actually work or not, but I do know that I’ve got to keep my heart locked up.
I can admire Parker’s good looks and enjoy the hand-holding while knowing it isn’t real, but I can’t actually fall for him.
It’s a good thing I live in DC and he lives in Colorado; that’ll make it easier to remind myself that none of this is real, because in five days, it’ll all be over anyway.
I can only hope that Axel will get the idea that I’m not ever coming back to him and that he’ll leave me alone when he’s back in DC too.
“Should we grab dinner?” Parker asks.
My stomach rumbles loudly. “I guess you have my answer to that.”
He chuckles. “We could try that café just off the lobby. I saw some athletes eating there yesterday and it looked good. Better than the sandwiches we had yesterday.”
“Sounds good,” I say. We walk hand in hand to the elevator and then into the festive lobby. Down here smells like Christmas spices, but I don’t know which ones exactly. All I know is that it reminds me of the mulled wine I had with Blair last Christmas when she came to visit me in DC.
The café is full of guests, some obviously athletes, while others are their guests or simply visiting the resort.
We get in line and I end up ordering a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup.
But everything looks good, and like Parker said, better than the food we got yesterday. Plus, this place is more affordable.
Parker carries our tray of food—he ordered the same as me—and I follow him to a table in the corner. We pass by a group of men, who I assume are football players. “Is that Cooper Caffrey?” I whisper to Parker. He glances over at the guy we just walked past as we sit.
“I think so. Do you want to take a sneaky picture and send it to Blair, or should I?” She’s had a crush on the football star for several years now, ever since he started playing for the Cheyenne Wranglers. She’d die if she knew how close we were sitting to him.
“I’ll do it,” I say, but instead of taking a sneaky picture, I get up and go to his table. He’s got a reputation for being a bit of a player, with a different girl on his arm every single weekend, but the tabloids also say he’s nice. “Hey, Cooper, right?” I ask him.
He grins. “No way, Juliet Morgan?”
I’m surprised he recognizes me. Only avid soccer fans know my name.“The one and only.”
“My family loves watching soccer, so we watch you play all the time,” he says. “We have to get a picture, my mom might die.”
I laugh. “Well, I hope she doesn’t die. But I was going to ask for a picture too. My best friend absolutely loves you.”
His eyes sparkle at this. He hands his phone to one of his teammates or friends, I don’t know which.
He’s huge, tall, and fit, but he’s an athlete, which I’ve learned is not my type.
Athletes are too hotheaded—I’m sure the same could be said about me, but I’m not trying to date me.
His friend snaps a photo and then hands him back the phone. He clicks around then hands it to me.
“Here, you can send the photo to yourself.”
“Only if you promise to never use my number again.” I type in my number and send the photo to myself.
“Nah,” he says, taking his phone back from me. “I saw you with that guy earlier at the cookie decorating. You look good together.”
I grow warm. “Thanks.”
“Tell your friend I say hello,” he says, sitting back down.
“Will do,” I say. “And let me know if your mom survives the picture.”
He gives me a wide, genuine grin. “I will. She’s going to freak.”
With that, I return to my table, where Parker is patiently waiting. “You didn’t have to wait for me. You could have started eating.”
“Didn’t want to be rude.” He dips his sandwich in the soup and takes a bite, moaning a little. “That’s so good.”
I take my own bite and feel the soft bread and cheese melt in my mouth. And the tomato soup? I want to swim in it. “I think we have to eat here for the rest of the week.”
“Agreed.”
“You got to meet Cooper Caffrey and you didn’t call me to come right away?” Blair asks weakly from where she’s lying on the small twin bed.
“Can you even move without throwing up?” I ask her, plopping down at the edge of my bed, reaching for my phone, but she’s still staring at the picture I took earlier.
“No, but still. I would have made it to meet him, and you didn’t even give me the chance.” She pouts.
“I’m sure you’ll live.” I don’t tell her that he knew who I was since that’ll just make her more jealous. “Plus, I thought things were going well with that new lawyer at your firm.”
“They are. I mean, we’re still in the early stages and going on dates and having fun, and she’s great. But this is Cooper Caffrey. He’s got the body of a god. Is he as huge and tall as he seems to be on TV?”
“He’s like six-five and all muscle. So yeah,” I laugh.
She groans, burying her face into her pillow. “How does it feel to live my dream?”
“Again. You’ll live.” I pat her leg. “Well, maybe. Is there anything I can get you? We can run to the store again if we need to.”
She looks up from my phone. “Sorry you have to hang out with my brother.”
“It’s been fun,” I say. “I mean, he’s not bad company.” I’m not ready to tell her that I’m kind of fake dating him, but only because I don’t want to tell her that Axel is here; I don’t want her to worry about me.
“Good. I am sorry, though. I’ll have to make it up to you sometime.”
“You have nothing to make up for,” I say. “Just get better, then you can come to the ball with us.”
“That does sound like a good plan.” She yawns.
“I’ll let you get some more rest. I’m going to go read.”
“Is that what Parker is doing?” she asks.
I nod.
“We’re at a resort and the two of you are going to stay in the cabin and read?”
“Looks like it,” I say.
She looks like she might jump up and brave the evening, even while feeling bad, just to get us out of the cabin.
“Don’t even think about it,” I say. “We’re fine. It’s been fun, but I think we both like a little bit of quiet.”
I feel a slight twinge of guilt. I know I could have signed up for more of the charity events, but honestly, I kind of just want to enjoy my vacation. I’ll do the necessary activities for the charity event, but nothing extra. Maybe that’s terrible of me, but it’s the truth.
“You are both so boring,” Blair whines.
“And you’re sick. So feel better, then we’ll go out.” I grin at her. She settles into the bed, looking like she wants to whine about it more. “Rest. Maybe tomorrow we’ll go out if you’re still feeling better. Or we’ll stay in again.”
“Guess we’ll see,” she says quietly. “You letting Parker sleep in your bed?”
I really hope my cheeks don’t turn red, but I feel myself get warm all over. “He said he was fine on the couch.”
She chokes out a laugh. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he said. But that couch sucks.”
I glance in the direction of the dimly lit family room, where I can see Parker’s head as he reads with a book light. “Maybe I’ll go ask if he wants to sleep in the bed. Or would that be too weird?”
“Only weird if you make it weird,” Blair says, yawning again.
I should go ask him, but I don’t know if I will. I feel bad for making him sleep on the couch that apparently sucks, but he offered. We’ve already said good night. It’d be too weird to go and talk about it again. “If you’re still sick tomorrow night, I’ll offer again,” I decide.
“Ohhkay,” Blair sings. I give her a funny look, but she doesn’t say anything and I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
Does she want me to sleep in the same bed as her brother?
Or does she think that’s weird too? When we were kids, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.
But now? I’m overthinking everything. It feels like it would be breaking too many unspoken rules of our arrangement.
When Blair doesn’t say anything else, I say good night and head to my bedroom, hesitating on the threshold but going in and crawling into the bed.
It’s fine. He’ll be fine on the couch, and if Blair is still sick, I’ll ask him tomorrow night.
Push a little harder. Or offer to take a turn on the couch.
I pick up my book, but the words swim together on the page and I can’t stop thinking about the guy on the couch just down the hall.