Page 76 of Fake Married to the Grumps

"Morning, Marissa," I greet with a casual smile, offering her a charming grin.

She returns the smile, albeit with a hint of surprise. "Morning, Bryce. What are you doing here?"

Shrugging, I attempt to play it cool.

"Just thought I'd offer you a ride to work. It's the least I can do for my favorite neighbor."

"Favorite neighbor, huh? More like the only neighbor, you know."

"Just expanding my social circle. Plus, I don't want you to be late."

She hesitates, clearly torn between accepting the offer and asserting her independence.

"I appreciate the offer, Bryce, but I'm good. I can drive myself."

"We're both going to the set anyway, and it would be great to have the company. What do you say?"

She sighs, clearly tired of my persistent insistence. But with the slow smile making an appearance on her plump, pink lips, I can tell that her resolve is slowly crumbling.

"Fine, but only because you're so persuasive."

I grin triumphantly, opening the passenger door. "That's the spirit. Now, hop in, and let's hit the road."

We fall into an easy rhythm as she talks animatedly about the show she saw last night.

I relax into my seat, the tension leaving my shoulders as I breathe deeply. Marissa's calm energy washes over me, a soothing balm that smooths the jagged edges of my restless mind.

The car slows to a stop. I turn the key and the engine sputters off, leaving us in silence. Marissa's laughter trails off as the engine sputters to silence. Her gaze meets mine for a fleeting second before darting away.

I glance at her, taking in the furrow between her brows. She's avoiding my eyes.

With a sigh, I reach over and help her unlock the buckle. She stiffens at my touch, her shoulders tensing and eyes darting away.

I pause, uncertain if I should continue, but the buckle finally gives way with a soft click. Her hands smooth down the fabric of her dress, fingers worrying the hem.

"Thanks for the ride," she murmurs.

"My pleasure," I reply, lingering in the moment a little longer than necessary.

Unease wells up in my chest. She's never acted this way around me before.

Chapter 7

Marissa

The film set is abuzz with activity, cameras rolling, and actors rehearsing their lines.

On set, Bryce looks like a dream dipped in honey, all suave and dashing, effortlessly stealing the spotlight.

He's got that classic leading-man vibe. You know, the kind that makes you want to swoon and simultaneously roll your eyes at how ridiculously perfect he is.

It's no wonder the ladies are constantly chasing after him.

One of the actresses keeps staring at him like he's dessert, looking for excuses to touch him and feel his ripped chest beneath her fingertips. With her dyed platinum blonde hair andbreasts that look too good to be true, she keeps giggling at everything he says, like a high school girl.

Is that jealousy?

"So, what do you guys think is the greatest movie of all time?" I ask my colleagues, stirring the pot of debate to distract myself from the fact that Bryce only goes for supermodels. Not plain Janes like me.

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