Page 13 of Hating the Book Boyfriend

Great, to top things off he's back to calling me by that stupid nickname. That name says it all. He doesn't take me seriously. Last night was a game, just another one of his head trips. I don't need him to continue rambling on. "I get it. I'm not your type, but you should have warned me or something. I would have opted to sleep in the chair knowing you have that—that issue,"I say, rattled, still flustered from the feelings he conjured up inside me mere seconds ago before he opened his mouth.

"First of all," he gestures to his package. "This is not an issue. It's a sign of health and vitality. Second, I can't warn you about a problem I didn't know I had."

"What do you mean you didn't know you have it?" I blurt as I hastily flip open one of my suitcases and grab out clothes, unworried about matching.

"I don't do sleepovers," he says as though that doesn't sound preposterous.

"Okay," I say in sarcastic agreement. "I haven't been living under a rock. I'm well aware of your reputation." I slam my suitcase closed. "Whatever. You don't owe me any explanations?—"

"You said you were in PR. You, of all people, should know that not everything is as it seems." He climbs out of bed. "I didn't say I was celibate. I said I don't do sleepovers." The bathroom door closes, and I hear the shower turn on.

"I guess I'm getting ready without a shower today."

I need to get out of here. There's no way I can stay in this room another day with him, not after what just happened. I'm sure it's my drought. It's the only thing that makes sense. I can't start catching feelings for Colton Callahan. I’m not even sure if feelings is the right word. I've never thought of him like that. I've spent more days than not spelling my dolls and pricking them with pins, wishing like hell they'd magically become voodoo dolls and he'd meet half the mortifying fates I had. My current dry spell, his good looks, and my attraction to the wrong men will only lead to disaster. I'm pulling on a pair of jeans when my phone rings. Crap. I hop across the room as I try to shove my foot through one of the legs without falling and not miss the call. It's Archie.

"Hey, Arch. Please tell me the roads are clearing up, and you'll make it here today."

"Even better, I'm twenty minutes out. Are you packed and ready?"

I do a quick scan of the room. I didn't unpack my suitcase, which was loaded with books. It's remained closed and locked. The fact that I write has been my little secret, and I plan to keep it that way. The videos floating around of me with the girls may have gone mini-viral, but the chances of stumbling across our shenanigans are slim unless you're part of the bookish community. Technically, I can't even call it foolery anymore. It's only been a few days, and we already have a waitlist of clients. Being in between jobs right now may not be so bad.

"Yeah, I can be ready."

"Good. We need to get on the road," he says before speaking softly to someone in the cab.

"Who's with you?" I ask, putting the phone on speaker and quickly snapping on a bra before pulling on a tank top. I know it's snowing, but I wasn't prepared for snow. Luckily, I'm always cold, so I have a chunky knit cardigan I can throw on, and it still looks cute without leaving me freezing to death.

"It's a surprise. You'll see soon enough. Just make sure you're ready to go when you see me pull around."

"You're in the truck, right?"

"Yes. Now get ready. No delays. I can't come in and pull you out."

"Alright, alright. I better get off the phone then. See you soon, Arch."

I click off the phone and quickly start collecting the few things I left lying around the room, hoping to sneak out before Colton is done with his shower. My chances of accomplishing that seem promising. The first day I took over his room, he took an hour-long shower. I'm sure it was to avoid me, but I'm alsoconfident that's what he's doing now. Morning wood or not, he was into dry humping me and I know he doesn't care to look me in the eye anytime soon. I'm packing up my computer and chargers when a text from Ava comes through with a picture of me and Colton during the polar plunge yesterday, and of course, she shared it in our ongoing group text.

Ava: You failed to mention that your brother's best friend is Colton Callahan. I can't find it within me to feel sorry for you anymore.

Gemma: Are you shitting me? This is the guy you've been snowed in with! I'd let him rub that hate all over me.

Libby: Wait, why does that name sound familiar? Is this that single lawyer guy I always see on the gossip rags?

Oh my god, this is the last thing I have time to get distracted with right now when I'm trying to slide out on the down low. Colton being clueless about me leaving serves a purpose other than merely avoiding him. I don't need my brother discovering he's here and finding out we shared a room, a detail I'm sure Colton would be on board with never speaking of again.

JoJo: This conversation isn't happening. There's nothing to discuss. He hates me, I hate him. End of discussion. I need to ghost out of this room.

Libby: Okay, but answer the question first, is he the big shot bachelor guy from the tabloids?

JoJo: Yes, he's that guy.

I roll my eyes and slip on my tennis shoes. I'm pretty sure I left my toothbrush and maybe even my hairbrush in the bathroom, but they are easily replaceable. I'd rather spend the ten dollars it costs to buy new ones than risk seeing him again. My phone dings one more time, and I check the screen.

Libby: Hear me out. He could be really good for business. He's one of the most eligible bachelors out there right now. Imagine the publicity we'd get if we took him off the market.

Gemma: That's not a bad idea.

"This is not happening," I groan in annoyance. Yesterday, while Colton and I sat in the hotel restaurant, I combed through potential clients in my area, and I actually found one in town. I haven't had a spare moment to update them on my progress. It's probably why they are hounding me now. They believe I'm not taking any of this seriously.

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