The bass thumped through the crowded living room like a second heartbeat, bodies pressed too close, red Solo cups sweating in everyone's hands. Jenaya stood in the middle of the makeshift beer-pong table two folding tables duct-taped together palms slick against the edge, staring down the last cup like it personally owed her money. The crowd around her was already half-feral, chanting her name in a sloppy, drunk way.
"JEN-A-YA! JEN-A-YA! JEN-A-YA!"
She lined up the shot, tongue poking between her teeth, hips swaying just enough to throw off the guy across from her Reese's annoying best friend, Malik, who'd been talking shit all night. One flick of her wrist. The ping-pong ball arced perfectly… and clattered against the rim before bouncing straight into the cup beside it.
The room exploded.
"Ohhhhhhh shit!" someone screamed.
"Redemption shot! Redemption shot!"
Jenaya's stomach dropped like she'd missed the last step on a staircase. She looked up just in time to see Reese, tall, annoyingly broad-shouldered, that stupid lazy smirk already curling his lips push through the circle of bodies. He was wearing that black hoodie that hugged his arms too well, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, veins standing out like he'd been working out just to spite her.
He stopped right at the edge of the table, arms crossed, eyes locked on hers with that smug, glittering amusement that always made her want to throat-punch him and then immediately regret thinking about his throat.
"Looks like somebody lost," he drawled, voice low enough that only she could hear it over the roar.
Jenaya rolled her eyes so hard she gave herself a headache. "It was one cup, Reese. Calm your ego before it needs its own zip code."
He leaned forward, forearms braced on the table, close enough that she could smell the cedar-and-whiskey cologne he always wore like he knew it was unfair. "A bet's a bet, mama. And you said loud and proud, might I add—'if I lose, you can have whatever you want.'"
The crowd was still losing their minds, but Jenaya felt the air between them thicken, the way it always did when he got this close and decided to play dirty.
She crossed her arms, chin up, refusing to back down even though her pulse was doing traitor things. "I was drunk. That doesn't count."
"Drunk words are sober thoughts," Malik yelled from somewhere behind Reese, and half the room cackled.
Reese didn't even look away from her. "My ex is getting engaged this weekend. Big fancy house party, whole three days of 'celebrating love.'" He air-quoted so hard she wanted to break his fingers. "She's been texting me nonstop, trying to prove she's over me. I need her to see me unbothered. Happy. Moved on."
Jenaya blinked. "You want me to… what? Be your arm candy?"
"I want you to be my girlfriend." He said it slow, like he was tasting the word. "Fake, obviously. But very convincing. You come with me, smile pretty, laugh at my jokes, let me put my arm around your waist, maybe kiss me once or twice so she knows I'm not sitting at home crying over her. In return…" He shrugged one shoulder. "I won't tell the entire group chat you cried during that one rom-com with the dog."
Her jaw dropped. "You swore you'd never bring that up again!"
"Bet's a bet," he repeated, softer this time, almost sweet. Almost dangerous.
Jenaya stared at him, heart hammering against her ribs. She could feel every pair of eyes in the room waiting for her to either slap him or cave. She hated that he knew exactly which buttons to press. Hated more that part of her, the reckless, stupid, tequila-soaked part was already imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on her hips in front of everyone, claiming her like she belonged to him.
"Fine," she bit out, voice sharp enough to cut glass. "But if you try anything weird, I'm kneeing you in the balls so hard you'll taste them."
Reese's grin spread. "Deal."
The next morning sunlight stabbed through the blinds like it had a personal vendetta.
Jenaya groaned, rolling over in sheets that smelled like him, cedar, clean laundry, something darker she couldn't name. Her head pounded, mouth dry as the Sahara, and she realized with growing horror that she was not in her own bed.
She sat up too fast. The room spun. Reese's room. Reese's bed. Reese's gray T-shirt riding up her thighs because apparently drunk Jenaya had decided stealing his clothes was a personality trait.
A low hum of water came from the attached bathroom. The door was cracked open just enough.
She shouldn't have looked.She looked.
The shower glass was frosted but not frosted enough. Through the steam she could see the long, lean lines of him, broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, water sluicing over muscles she'd spent years pretending not to notice. And then, God help her, lower.
Her breath caught.
Long, Thick.
Jenaya slapped a hand over her mouth to stop the scream that was already clawing up her throat, but it came out anyway, a high-pitched, mortified, and way too loud.
"Shit—!"
The water cut off instantly.
Reese stepped out a second later, towel slung dangerously low on his hips, water still dripping from his curls and tracing paths down his chest. He looked amused. Of course he looked amused.
"You good?" he asked, voice rough from sleep and steam.
Jenaya yanked the comforter up to her chin like it was armor. "Why the hell am I in your bed? And why is your shower basically a glass display case?!"
He dragged a hand through his wet hair, biceps flexing in a way that should've been illegal. "You passed out on my couch after the party. I carried you up here so you wouldn't wake up with a crick in your neck and blame me for it. And the shower's been like that since I moved in. Not my fault you decided to play peeping Tom."
"I wasn't" She sputtered, cheeks burning. "I just opened my eyes and there it was! Like a damn anaconda!"
Reese barked a laugh, stepping closer. "Anaconda, huh? That's a new one."
"Shut up." She pulled her knees to her chest, trying to disappear into the bedding. "This is so embarrassing. I'm never drinking again."
"Liar." He sat on the edge of the mattress, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. "You still in for this weekend?"
Jenaya glared at him, but the fight felt half-hearted now. "You really need me to pretend to be your girlfriend that bad?"
He looked at her really looked and something shifted in his expression. Less cocky. More… honest. "Yeah. I do. She thinks I'm still hung up on her. I'm not. But I want her to know I'm good. Better than good. And you…" He trailed off, eyes dropping to her mouth for half a second before flicking back up. "You're the only one I trust to sell it."
Her heart did something traitorous again, squeezed, flipped, then squeezed harder.
She swallowed. "If I do this, there are rules. No weird touching unless we're in front of people. No making me call you baby in private. And definitely no more shower exhibitions."
Reese's lips twitched. "You sure about that last one?"
"Reese."
He raised both hands in surrender, towel slipping another dangerous inch. "Fine. Rules. But you gotta commit, Jenaya. Full method acting. Hand-holding. Inside jokes. Kissing when it makes sense."
Her stomach flipped at the word kissing. She shoved the feeling down deep where it couldn't betray her. "I can act. I'm a great actress."
"Yeah?" He leaned in just enough that she forgot how to breathe. "Prove it."
She narrowed her eyes. "Not right now, you horny exhibitionist."
He laughed again low, warm, the kind of laugh that settled under her skin and stayed there. "Alright. Get dressed. We leave at six tonight. And Jenaya?"
She looked up, wary.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For real."
She huffed, trying to play it off, but her voice came out softer than she meant it to. "Don't get used to it."
He stood, towel still clinging to his hips like it was personally offended by gravity, and shot her one last look over his shoulder. "Too late."
And just like that head pounding, heart racing, dignity in tatters Jenaya realized she was already in way over her head.