I glanced at him, trying to figure out how to start the conversation. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, shifting his weight from side to side, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do either.
“So…” I said, my voice coming out just softer than I intended. “About what happened downstairs…”
“Yeah, about that…” He scrunched his nose slightly. “I hope I didn’t overstep too much. Because if I did, I totally understand if you want to go back down and tell everyone I’m not actually your boyfriend.” He let out a small, awkward laugh. “I mean, I promise that I thought I was helping, but I do realize I’m probably not really the type of guy you’d want your ex—or anyone else for that matter—to think you’re dating.”
I blinked.
Wait.
Was he serious?
“You think I’m upset that you told Diego you’re my boyfriend?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I can’t exactly tell what you’re thinking since you can be a little hard for me to read.” He gave a quiet, slightly nervous laugh. “I just… wanted to say that if you don’t actually want to share a room with me for the next few days, I get it. I mean, I’m older, I have a daughter, and…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “There are probably a million other reasons why you wouldn’t want that. So if you want me to go back down and say it was a joke or something, I can. No problem.”
Okay, he was completely misreading my hesitation.
Before he could go too much further down that road, I said, “That’s actually not it at all.” I shook my head. “I was just surprised you’d be okay with it.”
“Oh?” His brows lifted slightly.
“But I am,” I added. “Okay with it, I mean. If you are. I don’t have any reason not to be.”
“Okay.” He let out a small breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “That’s good.”
For a second, neither of us said anything.
And then, almost at the same time, our attention drifted toward the bed.
A very large, very intimidating king-sized bed.
My gaze flicked back up to his.
And from the way he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbingup and down, I had a feeling he was just now realizing that playing my boyfriend and sharing a room also meant sharingthat.
I shifted my weight. “Well now that that’s cleared up, are you also okay sharing a bed?”
He glanced at it again, like he was taking in the size for the first time. Then he looked back at me.
“I’m okay with it if you are.” His gaze flicked back to the bed. “It’s a king,” he added. “So there should be plenty of room.”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, nodding. “Totally.”
There was a small pause before he asked, “Do you have a side you usually sleep on?”
“I usually sleep on the right,” I said, gesturing toward it.
“Perfect. I’m a left-side sleeper.”
“Wow,” I said, a small smile pulling at my lips. “Looks like we’re a good match after all.”
Our eyes met, and the way his eyes lingered on mine made heat creep up my neck.
I quickly looked away, willing my heart rate to calm down. Because if I had any hope of surviving this weekend, I could not get so overly excited about every little thing he said or did.
I turned toward the dresser and started pulling clothes from my suitcase, trying to act normal.
Nonchalant.