She still hadn’t figured out if she wanted to bite him or kiss him back when he lifted his head and said, “I knew you weren’t all piss and vinegar.”
The almost surprised expression on his face slammed her back into reality. She’d just stood there like a bump on a log and let Quinn kiss her. What the fuck was wrong with her? She shoved him.
Or she tried.
When she pushed on him, he didn’t move, but she hopped back a full foot. “You are insufferable!”
“You say the sweetest things.” He turned and started for the door. “Tell Adam and Jules I’ll see them later.”
She watched him go, wondering if she’d just made a horrible mistake. Oh, who was she kidding? She knew she had. Going to DeathCon with Quinn was a no-brainer. She would be so busy fighting not to have a panic attack and excited about Deathmatch she’d be able to ignore his towering presence. At least in theory.
But the other half of the bargain? How was she supposed to pretend they were in a relationship when she could barely stand to be in the same room with him? And that was ignoring the fact that she didn’t know what the hell an actual relationship looked like. She certainly hadn’t seen one between her mother and the men she paraded through their doublewide when she was growing up. Or from the boys who’d tried to talk their way into her pants, starting around the time she hit puberty.
Hell, the only healthy relationship she’d ever held down was with Jules, and that hardly counted because she liked Jules just fine but had no desire to roll around naked with her.
Not that she had a desire to roll around naked with Quinn. Because she definitely did not. Besides, this wasn’t about whether she theoretically did or did not find the idea of sex with Quinn attractive. This was about pretending she did. His parents or whoever he was trying to fool wouldn’t be convinced if she just stood next to him. She’d have to, like, touch him. Or hold hands. Or kiss. Or…
What do people in relationships even do—besides bang a lot?
Aubry dropped into her chair and laid her head on her folded arms. She couldn’t even model her behavior after Jules and Adam because her friend was such a foreign creature in so many ways. She was so sunny. Aubry couldn’t fake that. She didn’t want to try.
She was just…herself. Cranky and kind of twisted and maybe old beyond her years.
It wasn’t too late to back out. All she had to do was give up DeathCon and there was nothing holding her to that damn wedding. Quinn might not be the most awful person in existence, but she wasn’t inclined to do him this type of favor out of the goodness of her heart. She wasn’t sure she had a goodness of her heart.
But she didn’t want to give up DeathCon.
Now that there was a real chance she could play that demo, she didn’t want to give it up.
Even if it meant playing girlfriend to Quinn at some hoity-toity wedding. Aubry lifted her head. How hard could it really be? There would probably be alcohol there, so that was something. An open bar was too much to ask for, but if she was supposed to be Quinn’s girlfriend, there was no reason he couldn’t foot her tab. It was only fair.
She sat up, feeling significantly better about the whole thing.
“This is doable. It’s only a few days. Really, what’s the worst that could happen?”
There were so many ways to answer that question she didn’t even want to start.Chapter Three“What do you mean, you don’t fly?” Five days out from their trip, and she was just now springing this on him? Quinn could barely credit the words coming out of the crazy woman’s mouth.
Aubry crossed her arms over her chest and somehow managed to glare down her nose at him, despite the fact that she barely came up to his shoulder. “Do you know how horrible death would be in a plane crash?”
“Sorry, no. I don’t spend much time thinking about how different ways to die would feel.” He’d noticed she seemed to see serial killers under every rock, but he hadn’t actually thought she’d have a problem with one of the most common modes of transportation. Silly him. He put his phone down, already regretting having shown up at her place to negotiate this.
But he’d thought it’d be a simple cut and dried thing—he’d book the flights and she’d get the rental car from San Diego to Napa Valley. He was fine with footing the larger bill… Or he had been until she threw this totally unnecessary wrench into his perfect plans. He glared. “You do realize that more people die in car crashes every year than in planes going down—as in, exponentially more.”