Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Apparently, unconscious Blake is as snuggly as I am. I wanted to wake him and make fun of him, but instead, I went the self-preservation route. I rolled onto my side, but then we ended up spooning.
So yeah, I’m glad he’s already awake and downstairs.
I’ll need to go down there at some point to get some food, and I guess I need to be there so I can act like the doting boyfriend for Blake’s little experiment to work.
I reach for my phone. When I power it up, notifications light up the screen for a good five minutes, and I weed out the ones I actually need to respond to. Like the one from Jojo asking if I’m okay, the couple from my agent which were bland updates saying he’s hired a PR person to come up with a story she can spin to the public, but then there are the ones from Ben.
Eighteen missed calls, a couple of I’m sorry texts begging to explain, but nothing of substance. For a director who’s good at capturing emotion onscreen, he’s not great at expressing himself with words.
Maybe that’s why we worked for as long as we did. He’s not good at emotion, and I avoid it whenever I can.
I ignore his pleas and get out of bed to get dressed and head downstairs.
As soon as I open the door, perfect harmonies hit my ears. I don’t know why boy bands get the reputation for having crappy music when being that harmonized takes a lot of talent.
They don’t stop when I bypass them for the kitchen. They’ve moved the coffee table out of the way and are standing in a circle as they rehearse.
Brix is at the dining table sipping from a mug and scrolling on his phone, and he mumbles, “Morning,” as I pour myself some coffee.
“Morning. What are we supposed to do while they’re all working?”
“You can come with me on a perimeter check if you really want. I have to make sure paparazzi haven’t followed us out here. Last time, they camped outside the fence for days.”
“In the snow?”
“Nah. It was warmer then.”
“As fun as that sounds, I probably shouldn’t in case there are cameras. No one knows where I ran off to.”
“Fair enough.”
I excuse myself to join the guys.
They finish their song and then take their seats around the living room, while Harley drones on about marketability and maybe speeding up the melody.
I go sit next to Blake on the couch he’s sharing with Lyric. There’s only a little space between them, so I wiggle my way into the gap and lean toward Blake and lay my head on his shoulder, but not before kissing him on the cheek.
He freezes, Harley’s ramble dies off, and I try not to laugh into my coffee.
All eyes blink at us, awaiting an explanation.
“Method acting,” Blake says.
Harley, Lyric, and Denver shout, “Yes,” at the same time. The other three, including Brix at the table, scowl.
“What’s going on?” Blake asks.
“If I had to bet”—I let the word fall from my lips with a little emphasis—“I’d say they were wagering money against us. Please, it’s so rude to play silly betting games on our sex life.”
Blake shoves me. “Like you aren’t doing the same.”
Now everyone else looks confused.
“Jordan thinks if I pretend to be his boyfriend, I’ll end up wanting to sleep with him for real.”
“What can I say? I’m a catch.” The cocky act is second nature to me. It’s at the point where I’m not sure if it’s an act anymore or reflex or if I’m just that much of a douche.
“Oh, we so want in on this bet,” Harley says. “We all bet that you two would hook up.”
“How much?” I’m curious now.
“Twenty bucks,” Harley says.
I mock gasp. “That’s all we’re worth to you? You guys are millionaires and you bet twenty measly dollars?” I tsk them. “You’re all amateurs.”
“What do you two have riding on it?” Harley asks. “Another movie role?”
Blake points at me. “Well, if he wins, he gets sex. If I win, I get to ask any favor I want. It could be anything—”
“Except murder,” I interrupt.
“Except that.”
Mason’s sitting opposite me, and his face lights up. “Wait, so if you guys don’t have sex, Blake can ask Jordan to do anything?”
Okay, now I’m nervous. “What kind of things do you think he’d ask?”
Ryder says, “I’m thinking a viral video of you in a chicken suit doing the chicken dance.”
“No, it should be something big like taking over as a judge on the next season of Fandom so I don’t have to do it,” Denver says.
I lean forward in my seat. “Wait, Denver’s on Blake’s side now? I thought you were one of the ones who bet we would hook up?”
“I was. But if there’s a chance of finding a replacement for me on that godforsaken show, I’m going to do it.”