Eighteen
Sienna
I wake up groggy, disoriented, and convinced for a solid ten seconds that I’ve been kidnapped.
The ceiling isn’t mine. The sheets aren’t mine. There’s a faint smell of lavender in the air that is definitely not mine.
Then, somewhere in the back of my sluggish brain, reality clicks into place.
Right. Home.
I groan, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes as I push myself upright. My entire body feels like I’ve been flattened by a steamroller, which, considering I spent last night tangled up in Nathan’s bed, feels about right.
I’d almost passed out on the car ride home, my dad filling the silence with an interrogation about Nathan.
How long had we been dating?
Did he treat me right?
Was he planning on making an honest woman out of me?
I’d given him vague, sleepy answers, dodging most of his prodding with “Dad, I just got off a flight, let me live.”
When we got home, I hugged my mother, and bless her heart, but she took one look at me, said, “Oh, sweetheart, you look awful,”
and promptly marched me upstairs for a nap.
I didn’t tell her that, actually, I wasn’t jet-lagged. I was just still slightly drunk and currently experiencing a very unfortunate cocktail of dehydration and regret.
I glance at my phone.
Two hours until dinner.
Two hours until Nathan has to walk through the front door of my childhood home and put on yet another performance.
If he shows up at all.
A hot fist of anxiety clenches in my stomach.
What if he doesn’t?
What if this was the moment he realized, holy shit, what am I doing? and left me hanging? I mean, I couldn’t blame him. I barely know him. He barely knows me. We met in a damn bar.
God, what if I get ghosted?
My mother will never let me live it down.
I scrub a hand down my face and shake the thought away. No use spiraling now. Instead, I drag myself out of bed and head to the bathroom, switching on the shower and stepping under the scalding water.
When I emerge, towel wrapped around my body and hair dripping, my phone is sitting on my nightstand, screen lit up with a notification.
A text from Nathan.
I hesitate before picking it up, my stomach twisting.
Nathan: What’s your address?
I exhale slowly.
Okay. He hasn’t backed out yet.
Still, I give him one last out.
Me: Listen, you don’t have to do this. If you want to back out, now’s your chance.
It takes him exactly ten seconds to reply with a picture of our napkin contract.
My stomach flips.
Me: You kept it?
Nathan: Of course. I take contracts very seriously.
Me: So you’re telling me you’re contractually obligated to show up tonight?
Nathan: That’s what I’m telling you.
Me: No wiggle room? No loopholes? No last-minute excuses about an emergency at work?
Nathan: I take contracts very seriously.
Me: You keep saying that like it’s a real contract and not a whiskey-stained napkin we signed at 30,000 feet.
Nathan: A contract is a contract, Sienna.
I roll my eyes, but a small, ridiculous smile tugs at my lips.
Me: Fine. Just making sure you’re not ghosting me.
Nathan: Ghosting you would imply I’m scared of you.
Me: Alright. Well, I’ll send you my address. Dinner is at seven. My dad is very punctual, so if you’re late, you’re dead to him.
A moment passes.
Nathan: No pressure then.
Me: Nope. None at all.
Nathan: What’s the dress code?
I snort.
Me: It’s dinner at my parents’ house, not a Michelin-starred restaurant. You’ll be fine in whatever. My dad will probably be in his cargo shorts.
Nathan: Comforting.
Me: Are you nervous?
Nathan: Should I be?
Me: That depends. How good are you at bullshitting?
Nathan: Sienna, I built a business from nothing and convinced a room full of old-money executives to trust me with their investments. I think I can handle your father.
I exhale, shaking my head. Of course he’s confident. Of course he’s not even remotely sweating this.
Me: I don’t know how we’re going to survive dinner. My family will sniff us out immediately. We don’t even know anything about each other.
This, surely, will get him to reconsider.
Nathan: Then tell me.
I stare at the message.
Blink.
Oh, shit. This calls for bullet points.
Me:
Full name: Sienna Blake
Birthday: April 17th (I’m twenty-five)
Star sign: Aries (Make of that what you will)
Weird fact: I can dislocate my thumb on command (party trick or horror show, depending on the audience)
Favorite drink: Iced coffee, even when it’s freezing outside
Biggest fear: Birds (I don’t want to talk about it)
College degree: Marketing (which I use, thank you very much)
Favorite movie: The Devil Wears Prada (Meryl Streep supremacy)
Hobbies: Reading, baking, telling men they’re wrong (when they are, which is often)
Go-to karaoke song: Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson (yes, I commit)
Fun fact: I once made it onto the local news for falling into a fountain at a Christmas market (grace is NOT my strong suit)
Nathan:
Full name: Nathan Calloway
Birthday: August 9th (I’m thirty)
Star sign: Leo (I don’t know what that means, but Julian says it tracks)
Weird fact: I hate cucumbers but like pickles (don’t question it)
Favorite drink: Bourbon, neat
Biggest fear: Small talk with strangers (and now fake relationships, apparently)
College degree: Finance & Economics (I know, thrilling)
Favorite movie: The Godfather (but also Legally Blonde, which Julian blackmailed me into watching and I respect the hustle)
Hobbies: Boxing, running, making excellent business decisions (debatable, given our current arrangement)
Go-to karaoke song: I do not sing
Fun fact: I got banned from a casino at 19 for counting cards (don’t ask)
Me: Okay, Poker Face. Here’s a random story you can bring up later that will make my parents believe you know me. When I was ten, I broke my arm falling out of a tree because I was trying to impress a neighbor's kid.
Nathan: Now I’m ghosting you.
Me: Shut up.
Nathan: What’s one thing I should never say in front of your mother?
Me: Anything about my future wedding or potential grandchildren. She’s been waiting since I was eighteen.
Nathan: Duly noted. What about your dad?
Me: Act like he’s terrifying. He’ll respect you for it.
Nathan: Anything else?
Me: Should we have some kind of safe word?
Nathan: A safe word? What do you think I’m going to do to you?
Me: I don’t know, Nathan. Maybe tie me up and force-feed me business reports until I break.
Nathan: I don’t tie up my fake girlfriends, Sienna.
Me: No, I mean if all of this gets too much. If we need a minute. My family is a lot. This entire thing is a lot. If we need air or even want out.
Me: Wait…
Me: Do you tie up your real girlfriends?
Nathan: Wouldn’t you like to know?
Me: Nathan.
Nathan: Let’s just say safe words have been useful in different contexts.
Me: Oh my God.
Nathan: You’re the one who asked.
Me: Fine. Back to the point. We need a code word for dinner.
Nathan: Something subtle. You say it. I know we need a second to escape the madness.
Me: Exactly.
Nathan: Pick one.
Me: Bubblegum.
Nathan: No.
Me: Why not?
Nathan: I refuse to say bubblegum in a serious moment.
Me: Coward.
Nathan: Try again.
Me: Fine. What about pineapple?
Nathan: Are we swingers now?
Me: What?
Nathan: You just picked pineapple as our safe word.
Me: Yeah, because it’s a normal word. What do swingers have to do with anything?
Nathan: It’s the universal code.
Me: What?
Nathan: Pineapples.
There’s a pause in his texts like I should already know this, but I stare at my screen, waiting for clarification that doesn’t come fast enough.
Me: Nathan, if you don’t explain this right now, I swear to God.
Nathan: Upside-down pineapples are a sign for swingers. If you see one on a cruise, in a shopping cart, or even on someone’s front porch, it’s like a secret handshake for people who want to swap partners.
I blink at my screen, my stomach dropping.
Me: My mother loves pineapples.
Nathan: …
Me: She has a pineapple print sweater.
Nathan: …
Me: She has a pineapple necklace.
Nathan: Sienna.
Me: Oh my God, Nathan, are my parents swingers?
Nathan: This is a problem for another time, Sienna.
Me: Alright, you pick then.
Nathan: Blackjack.
Me: Why am I not surprised?
Nathan: Do you have a better option?
Me: No. Blackjack it is.
Nathan: Good. Now tell me what I’m walking into.
Me: Chaos.
Nathan: Be more specific.
Me: My mother will grill you. My dad will judge you. And someone will absolutely bring up my ex.
Nathan: Looking forward to it.