“I’m afraid so,” I sigh.
Scarlett sinks onto the edge of the bed, dropping her head in her hands. “Then we’re trapped.”
We both know what this means—we’ll have to share this space until the wedding is over.
“Look,” I say, breaking the silence. “We’re adults. We can handle this maturely.” I gesture toward the sitting area. “I’ll take that couch. You take the bed. We can be roommates for a week.”
“The couch?” She follows my gaze to the boxy, modern sofa that’s clearly designed for looks and not comfort. “Brendan, you’re six foot three. You can’t sleep there for a week.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’ve slept in worse places in the military.”
Her lips press together. “This is your family’s home, your sister’s wedding. I’m not letting you sleep there, period. I can take the couch.”
“That’s not happening,” I say, glaring at her in a standoff that might be amusing if the stakes weren’t so high.
That’s when I realize something about the very couch we’re arguing over. “Wait a minute,” I say, walking over to examine the cushions. I bend just enough to rip off the cushions and toss them to the side.
“What are you doing?” Scarlett asks, staring at me in bewilderment.
Just as I expected, there’s a bed tucked inside the couch. “Problem solved. I’ll just sleep on the pullout. No one will even know.”
She stares at it. It’s only a few feet from her bed, but we’ll each have our own space. No accidental touching. No chance of anything happening. Judging by the look on Scarlett’s face, she’s already mentally constructing how to keep her distance with pillows and blankets.
“But what about everything else?” Questions swirl in her eyes. “Like sharing a bathroom? Or walking around in my pajamas?”
“We’ll come up with some ground rules so we can make things less awkward. It’ll be no different than living with Eli.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Brendan, you’re not my brother.”
My gaze travels over her robe. “Believe me, I’m well aware of that fact right now,” I mutter under my breath.
She has no clue how tough sharing a room with her will be on me. Hiding my feelings is one thing. Hiding them from three feet away is another thing entirely.
She heads back toward the bathroom, then pauses at the door. “We’re going to need those ground rules.” Her eyes narrow. “Like, immediately.”
Then she shuts herself into the bathroom, while I slump onto the couch.What have I gotten myself into?
I hear the water turn off in the bathtub. I stare at the ceiling.
She’s just my friend. Eli’s little sister. Not my girlfriend.
Yeah, none of that actually distracts me.
I turn to my suitcase next and dig through my clothes, trying to find something to wear to bed. That’s when I realize I didn’t pack anything appropriate for sharing a room with Scarlett Rossi. Nothing even pajama-adjacent.
Who packs sleepwear when they think they’re sleeping alone?
I pull out a pair of athletic shorts and change into those, then settle on the pullout bed with my iPad and turn on some game footage.
If I focus hard enough on hockey, maybe I’ll stop thinking about what’s happening on the other side of that bathroom door.
After thirty minutes, the bathroom door opens, and Scarlett emerges with a towel wrapped around her hair, wearing a gray, oversized t-shirt. Underneath, pink cotton shorts peek out, along with those same long legs that I’m really trying to ignore.
“You’re judging my pajamas, aren’t you?” she asks as she crosses the room.
I blink and focus on the tablet. “I’m not judging.”
She settles on the bed, rubbing lotion on her legs. “I didn’t know anyone would be seeing them.”