Page 5 of Love In The Air

“If we cause too much of a fuss, they’ll kick us out and replace us.”

Aerialist might not be the highest demand in the performer world, but he knew a performer could be replaced for any reason, and he wasn’t risking this opportunity.

“I can’t lose this gig.” He’d already lost too much, losing this wasn’t an option.

“Me either,” she agreed. “So, what do we do?”

He figured it was obvious, but if she needed it spelled out, “We fake it.”

“Fake it?”

He glanced around, making sure everyone was still occupied with their own shit, not paying attention to them. Lowering his voice, he leaned in closer, so close he could smell the hint of flowers wafting up from Iz’s hair. So sweet and inviting. The juxtaposition made his lips curl in a smile.

“We need to pretend to get along.”

“Fake a friendship?” she asked, as if he just suggested they run off to Vegas and get married.

“Better than getting kicked out of the show for ripping each other’s heads off.”

She scoffed. “Oh, come on now, Chance. You know I’d never do something as violent as rip your head off. Far too messy.” Her lips curled in a devious grin. “I’d poison you. Clean, efficient, and with the right ingredients, untraceable.”

He leaned back, a hint of uncertainty swirling in his gut. He was ninety percent sure she was kidding. A gleeful glint lit her eyes. Seventy-five percent sure.

“Remind me never to accept cookies from you.”

She snorted. “As if I’d ever make you cookies.”

“Only the kind with poison in them.”

‘Okay.” She sighed. “You might have a point.”

What now? He blinked at her one-eighty. “Did you just admit I’m right?”

“Never.” She scowled, but there was a hint of a smile curling her lips.

He held in his laughed. They were making headway. He didn’t want to screw it up. And Laughing at Iz was a sure way to get a knee to the nuts. He preferred his testicles where they were, and unharmed, thank you very much.

“But,” she continued. “We need to get along to perform together and now that you told Jen we’re friends, it’s not like I can request a new partner.”

Technically, he said they knew each other, Jen simply inferred it meant they were friends, and he didn’t correct her. But having their bosses think they were friends was a good thing. You wanted to get along with the people you’d be traveling the world with for the next year.

He had no illusions that this entire experience would be sunshine and rainbows. They were all artists after all, and artists were…well, temperamental. But he and Iz needed to bury the hatchet—or at least appear to get along—if they wanted to survive this thing without getting fired. He could do it if she could.

“Fake friends?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Iz stared at his palm like it was a snake that might jump up and bite her. His gut clenched as he waited, hand outstretched. He needed her in this with him. He was not getting fired. This was his chance to fulfill his promise to his brother. His chance to finally make up for his failings. He would go on this tour and he wouldn’t let something like Iz’s lifelong hate for him ruin it.

The breath he was holding eased out of his chest when she sighed and placed her palm in his.

“Fine, fake friends. At the studio only,” she added, glaring at him. “I’m not gonna be all buddy-buddy with you outside of rehearsals and performances. This is strictly for show.”

“Deal.” He shook her hand, feeling the same rough calluses he knew covered his own from hours of practice. A small spark of awareness traveled up his arm at the contact. He frowned, pulling his hand away quickly.

What the hell was that?

Static. Had to be something like that. With all the silks rigged in here, there was bound to be some charge in the air. At least Iz hadn’t seemed to notice anything, judging by the determined expression on her face.

“Great, all we have to do is pretend to get along in front of everyone and everything will be fine,” she said with a nod.