Chapter 12
MIA
From: EditorJen@
To: MiaMonroe@
Subject: Who’s the hunk?
You dark horse, Monroe. Who’s the hottie all over your socials?? Since when are you getting some sausage? Do we need to print a retraction on Dickonomics? J
Looks like the photos on my Gram are doing their job. Since I had a few older ones of Swayze and me, I’ve been subtly dropping them on my grid to make it look like we’ve been dating a little while but only just made it Gram official.
Scrolling my app, I look at the most recent one, a small smile creeping up my face.
He has an arm slung around my neck holding an ice cream cone I’m licking.
All of us were hanging out on the pier, and a bird dive-bombed my ice cream.
We all found it hilarious—no, really, Haven almost peed her pants—then Swayze walked up behind me, casually offering to share his.
He was only standing like that for a minute or so, but Kim is basically the Flash with her phone.
Not gonna lie, there’s a surprising number of photos with just the two of us. So many I don’t even remember posing for half of them, but we do look a liiiittle bit cute together.
Objectively speaking.
Proof of how easy it is to fake a narrative on the internet. For anyone scrolling, this looks as real as it gets. We look like one of those cringey-cute, inseparable couples.
Never mind that it’s just total and utter horseshit.
Dropping my phone, I switch my focus back to the laptop, swallowing a sigh.
From: MiaMonroe@
To: EditorJen@
Subject: Re: Who’s the hunk?
LOL, Dickonomics stands. This particular dick lives under the same roof as me. Apparently, the right guy was under my nose the whole time.
M
The right guy was under my nose the whole time.
I mean, that’s corny even for me, but I can’t exactly tell her the truth.
For this to be believable, I need to sell the lie to almost everyone.
Besides, maybe she’ll go easy on me when we end things.
She sent a girl from our team on a spa weekend when she broke up with her boyfriend, and I sure as shit need a massage.
The tension all up in this joint's getting a little much. And nope, before you go there—it’s not sexual tension, thank you.
At least not alllll sexual tension anyway.
The closer we are to flying out, the worse things get. I’m not sure either of us grasped the enormity of what we’re about to do. We’ve barely spoken all week since the pink lipstick incident, and anything we have communicated has been via Post-its again, like old times.
Yay us.
Aren’t we the picture of young love?
How are we gonna pull this off if we can hardly look at each other?
I’m not sure if he’s still pissed at me for doing all this in the first place. I mean, he probably is.
Can’t say I’d blame him. If the situation were reversed, I’d be furious, so I’m not surprised he’s playing the avoidance game. I taught him well, since that’s usually my tactic.
Meanwhile, I’ve barely slept all week worrying if we’ll look real enough. I’ve imagined a thousand different ways Pete’s gonna figure it out and make sure I know it. He gets a sick satisfaction out of doing shit like that.
Nausea washes over me, and I take a long drag of water to wash out the sour taste he leaves in my mouth. How the hell didn’t I see the toxic bastard he was sooner?
My laptop pings with another email, perfectly timed to stop me spiraling down that path.
From: EditorJen@
To: MiaMonroe@
Subject: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
That’s the roommate??? Holy moly, looks like you’re hosting the next team BBQ. Has he got any brothers?
Asking for a friend.
Yes. The friend's me.
J
From: MiaMonroe@
To: EditorJen@
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
Unfortunately not. He has a sister.
Also, don’t forget I’m flying out tomorrow. Nothing’s been delivered yet and I’m gonna need to take them away with me to use and review.
M
From: EditorJen@
To: MiaMonroe@
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
Shoot! That’s right. They’re being delivered today. I’ll pick the best ones and drop them off to you tomorrow lunchtime.
And no, before you accuse me, I’m not trying to catch sight of your new boyfriend. I’m meeting friends for lunch at the cute little Italian place just out of town.
J
Well shit, that’s cutting it close. We leave for the airport mid-afternoon. I need time to get these fuckers packed and my suitcase already looks… um… overstuffed.
From: MiaMonroe@
To: EditorJen@
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
Oh shit, really?! You know we leave for the airport at 3:30pm, right? Maybe it’s too risky. Should I come up with another article just in case?
M
From: EditorJen@
To: MiaMonroe@
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
No, it’s fine. I got this. I’ve got a timeslot delivery.
I’ll get a box together and run it over to you, promise.
I’ll even unpack them and just keep them with their instructions, so you can just chuck the box in your suitcase and worry about it when you get there.
I’m sorry it’s late, but don’t worry, it’s all good. We got this!
It’s not fine.
We do not got this.
It’s 2:45pm and still no Jen. I need to figure out how to get them into my already overweight fucking luggage and Marie Kondo I am not.
Where the hell is she?
I must be giving off some serious nervous energy because Swayze, who’s chosen not to play the avoidance game today of all days, keeps side-eyeing me from the couch while I pace the kitchen.
Maybe I should ditch some stuff from my bag just in case.
I don’t know what though because I’m a notorious overpacker, and that’s on a good day. So imagine how much baggage—physical and otherwise—I’ve got going on when I’m about to enter into full-on mental warfare with the bloodsucker who stole so many years from me.
Huffing, I spin on my heel, striding down the hall, determined to at least try. Of course, the second I walk into my bedroom, the doorbell rings, so Swayze gets to it first.
I was hoping to avoid that little encounter.
“Babe, Jen’s here.”
Babe? Wow. That’s really… weird.
Well, he’s remembered to keep up appearances, so there’s that.
Striding back out of my room, the first thing I notice is the huge box under Swayze’s arm.
She can’t be serious.
Sure, it’s flat enough to fit inside my suitcase but it’s so big it’ll take up most of one freakin’ side.
“Oh my god, Jen. Please tell me you haven’t had time to get rid of the packaging because that thing sure as shit isn’t fitting in my luggage?”
“Umm, those are mostly without the boxes,” she flashes me an apologetic look.
“Crap, I honestly don’t think I’ll get it in. Maybe we need to pivot the article to next month’s issue. I’ll just have to think of something else. Vacation romances? Destination weddings? Actually, that could work right?”
“I can toss it in mine, babe. It’s fine.” Swayze wraps his free arm around me, dropping a kiss on my head, which has Jen positively swooning.
“My carry-on's mostly empty. I’ll move some shit in there and toss this into my suitcase. It’s all good. I’ll go do it now. Nice to meet you, Jen.” He flashes her a blinding smile before disappearing into his bedroom with the box.
I stare after him, totally speechless.
Would he be so agreeable knowing he’s taking a whole arsenal of sex toys with him? I wonder if he’s a card-carrying member of the toys as teammates club… or if he’s threatened by them like Pete used to be.
Hell no. Don’t even go there.
“Oh my god, Mia. He’s even hotter in real life. How did you not get together ages ago?”
I turn to Jen with a wry smile, watching her fan her flushed face with her phone. Peeking over my shoulder she moves closer and whispers, “Does he know what’s in there?”
“God no, I’m not so sure he’d be as willing to help if he did.” We both burst out laughing just as arms snake around my waist, and I jump out of my skin.
“Box is locked and loaded, so you guys don’t need to worry.”
He rests his chin on my head in the ultimate couple move which does absolutely nothing to me.
Those butterflies are just travel nerves.
That’s all.
And Jen? Well she’s got hearts in her eyes, so I’m pretty sure she’s sold.
“Want to come in, Jen?” His voice vibrates, sending shivers down my spine.
Uhhh excuse me?
Now he’s getting a little too comfortable playing the doting boyfriend considering we leave for the airport in a little over thirty minutes. This is hardly the time for show and tell.
Besides, now he’s packed the silicone dicks, this girl needs to obsessively recheck her bags for her passport and bridesmaid dress, not entertain her editor with her fake-ass boyfriend.
“Oh no, I’m running late to meet my friends. I’ll give you lovebirds some privacy. Have fun with the article, Mia.” She winks at me, before spinning on her heel and disappearing back down the driveway.
Swayze releases me and locks the door behind her, his shoulders slumping now that he’s not putting on a show.
“Umm, thanks for packing that stuff for me. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Steely gray eyes study mine for a second.
“No, it's cool. What’s in there anyway?”
Hmmm… do I tell him the truth?
It would be hilarious to see his reaction, but then again, he might point blank refuse to take them.
Fuck it. He’ll find out soon enough.
“Just some stuff I need to review for next month's article. Not sure what Jen’s gone with since it’s been such a rush to get it here. Are you all set? The cab will be here soon then it’s showtime, boyfriend.”
I flash him a huge smile, masking the nerves I feel, and stride to my room as fast as I can without breaking into an actual run, barely catching his grumbly, mumbled reply.
“Born ready, Angel.”