Page 63 of The Pretender

“Oh” is all I say, watching as she takes another sip. “And you don’t want to go?”

She shakes her head and tries not to grin. “Nah, it’s their thing. I don’t like to be there when it’s time to clean up.”

I arch a brow. “Why? What happens?”

“You don’t want to know.”

I chuckle. “Okay. So you didn’t make plans with Aspen?”

She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Last I heard, they were thinking of going to the beach, but hadn't decided for sure.”

The beach sounds nice. “A trip sounds like the way to go,” I agree.

Vee nods to the untouched wakeboard propped up against the wall where it has been since I bought it. “You like to wakeboard?”

I take my drink from her and down the rest of it. “Yeah. I don’t get much of a chance to use it though.”

Vee fidgets for a second, and we’re both quiet, staring at the wall. “We could go to Aspen’s parents’ lake house if you want,” she finally says. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can check and see if anyone is there for the weekend. I have to work some next week, but I could manage a long weekend.” She shrugs and takes a deep breath, her cheeks flushed. “You could wakeboard. Aspen’s parents have a boat.”

I sit there, not responding, like a total idiot, when she adds, “I mean we could use the footage for the competition.”

She puts her hands in the air, imitating a billboard. “We could say: Spring Break Getaway, Couple Style.”

Her smile wavers for a moment, and it’s in that moment I know I am completely and utterly fucked with this girl. It doesn’t matter what she did in the past, there’s not enough hate in the universe to keep me away from her now.

I tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet.”

* * *

“Wait. We’re bringing real food?”

Vee cuts me a bored look. “As opposed to fake food we can’t eat?”

Ugh. Why does that sarcasm shoot straight to my dick?

I narrow my eyes and refrain from snatching the bag of groceries from her hand, slamming her body on the hood, and putting that mouth of hers to better use. Ever since I came in my pants to the feel of her body against mine, I haven’t been able to chase away the images. I find myself wanting more and more time with her every day. I can’t get enough of her company, and I’m pretty sure that's a bad sign.

“I’m merely pointing out that I don’t know how to cook,” I say. “So unless you know how to—” I nod to the bag of charcoal in the back, “—use that, then this little ‘romantic weekend’ will turn into a ‘bathroom getaway’ again.”

Vee stuffs the remaining bag into the back of my Jeep, which looks like we robbed Costco every day for a week. “We’ll google it. Besides—” she shrugs, “how hard can it be?”

I’m thinking pretty fucking complicated, but I’d never admit it.

“Whatever,” I clip, slamming the hatch and giving her a shove around to the passenger side. “At least the video will look authentic if we fuck it up.”

Vee’s eyes go wide. “Yes! Now you’re thinking! Did you see Malcolm teasing his viewers with a surprise in his last video?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

There are rumors about Malcolm and his video ideas. I honestly don’t know if the rumors are true about him stealing other MyViewer’s material, but something in my gut tells me they probably are, given Malcolm’s creepy personality.

“I wonder who he’ll rip off this time?”

I shrug. “Does it matter? We’re beating him by a landslide.”

Vee climbs into the passenger side and buckles in. “Do you think we have a shot at really winning this thing?”

I walk around the front of the Jeep and get in. “Absolutely. After this weekend, nothing we post will cause us to lose our spot. Malcolm doesn’t have a chance in hell of winning.”

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