“Yes. Continue the fake dating. A few more weeks, enough time to finish book two, make a few public appearances with the guys, show your face, let the audience see you. The publisher gets the marketing boost they need, your name gets rehabilitated, and you go from the girl who trashed food bloggers to the Omega who’s with the biggest food blogger on the internet. It writes itself.”
“So… use them. That’s awful.”
“Is it using them if they’re clearly obsessed with you, and dare I say you are with them? Claire, those men stood up for you in front of millions of people before you even woke up this morning. They’re not being used. They’re volunteering. So, see where it goes. Use the fake dating as an excuse to get to know them better.”
“Oh…”
“It’s a win-win. Best-case scenario, you get a career and a pack. Worst-case, you get a career and some incredible memories. Plus, I’ve seen that photo. Whatever happened in that storage room wasn’t fake.”
My cheeks burn. She’s right, and the ache in my abdomen that’s been pulsing all morning is proof that my body already knows the truth. “God, you make me sound desperate.”
“Nothing wrong with that, babe.”
“I need quiet time, Katie. I’m an introvert. I recharge in the dark, alone, breathing into a paper bag.”
“I know, sweetie. And I’m not asking you to become a social media influencer. Just spend time with three gorgeous men who clearly want to be with you, let the internet watch, and finish your book while your name is trending for the right reasons.” She pauses. “Just think about it? But not for too long. While you’re popular, while people are on your side, show them you’ve moved past the interview. Let them see the real Claire.”
I exhale. “I mean, it’s possible, right? They kissed me voluntarily, so maybe they’d be open to continuing whatever this is.”
“They made content defending your honor this morning. I think they’re open.”
“But what if they think I’m using the fake dating as an excuse to stay close and they pull back, and then I’ve ruined the one good thing?—”
“Stop. Breathe. You’re spiraling.”
“It’s the primary skill I’m good at.”
She laughs. “Okay, I’ve got to run. Think about it. Call me later. And, Claire?”
“Yeah?”
“Better we don’t tempt the universe any further. I think it’s given you enough surprises for one week.”
She hangs up. I set the phone on my couch and stare at the wall.
Date them again? I mean, I could do that.
I could also combust from the proximity, because my body is already aching from one evening. So I get up and pace the living room, circle the couch twice. I pick up my chai, then put it back down.
God, I don’t know if I can do this. They wanted to kiss me, so maybe they’d be into it? But am I using them? Except, they would be agreeing, so it’s not as if I’m lying to them.
I pace down the hallway and into my bedroom, where I glance out the window and toward their house without meaning to. In the corner of a room at the back, there’s movement inside.
I stop.
All three of them are shirtless, barefoot, standing in what appears to be a gym space, jump ropes in their hands. Music must be playing because they’re moving in sync, ropes cutting the air in identical rhythms, their bodies rolling with each jump. They’re damp with sweat, and it’s got my attention.
They’re filming, must be.
My treacherous body pulses with an inferno between my thighs.
“How are these men my neighbors?” I whisper to no one.
Corey catches a rope crossover, and he’s flashing that gorgeous, crooked smile. Brody pushes his hair off his forehead between sets, chest rising hard with each breath, while Jakob drags his curls back from his face.
My body is trembling, but it isn’t only from the ache anymore. It’s a fiery arousal. A restless pull toward them. Last night keeps coming back in pieces. Brody’s mouth. Corey’s hands. Jakob’s quiet control. The way they stared at me as if I wasn’t too much or too awkward or too broken to crave.
And now they’re right there, making every sensible part of me dissolve.