“And yet, you kept dancing for five more years?”
He pushes me out, spinning me with complete control. “Do you know what the girl to guy ratio was in my dance class? I had numbers on my side.”
As usual, Rio makes me laugh.
“That,” he continues. “And I may have enjoyed it.”
I cock my head with a thoughtful smile. “Regardless that we love to give you a hard time, one day, someone is going to be very lucky to land you.”
That olive skin tints with a shy smile. “Thanks, Ind.”
We stay on the dance floor for two songs, chatting and catching up. I thoroughly enjoyed myself tonight. Even though Ryan is stiff as a board, and probably blew our cover, I had fun seeing my friends outside of work. It was nice to dress up, go out, and socialize.
But as the beginning of song number three begins to fill the space, Rio’s expression drops, that typically goofy smile falling into a flat line.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He swallows, looking over my shoulder as we continue to sway along the dance floor. “I’m pretty sure your fake boyfriend wants to very real kill me.”
I still. “Geez. Does everyone know it’s fake?”
“Stevie told Zanders and Zanders told me because, Indy, I was freaking the fuck out.”
“Rio. You and I, we’re friends. We’ve been over this.”
He scoffs, his head jolting back. “I’m not talking about you. I thought one of my closest friends was dating Ryan Shay. Ryan freaking Shay. You know how I feel about him.”
I roll my eyes before peeking over my shoulder to find Ryan sitting at a table, leaning back in his chair, legs sprawled like a king as he mindlessly sketches the rim of his glass. His stance might seem informal, but his stare is venomous, pointed right at Rio.
“Don’t worry, it’s not you. He didn’t want to stay long, and I think I lost track of time.”
“Indy.” Rio stops moving completely. “I might be inexperienced when it comes to women, but I’m still a man. That right there is jealousy.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Trust me. I know that look.”
“Well, then he’s doing his job. Pretending to be my boyfriend.”
And finally knocking off something from his bucket list. Would’ve been a good night for a slow dance, but I’ll take the jealousy.
“Give the man a fucking Oscar then.” Rio’s eyes continue to flicker to my roommate. “As much as it’d be an absolute honor to be punched in the face by Ryan Shay, I don’t know that a fundraiser is the best place for that.”
“I should get going.” I slide my arms around him in a hug. “I’ll see you on the plane.”
As I make my way to Ryan, he doesn’t look up at me. Instead, his eyes track Rio as my friend leaves the dance floor, and it isn’t until I take the seat directly in front of him, blocking his view, that he breaks his stare.
“Well, hi there.” Ryan’s middle finger traces the edge of his whiskey glass with cool indifference.
“Are you okay?”
I’m acutely aware that my knees are between his sprawled legs as I sit facing him.
“I’m good.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Do you want to stay?”
“You said we were only staying for an hour and a half, and I’m pretty sure it’s been much longer than that.”
“I know what I said, but do you want to stay? Are you having a good time?”
He sits up, bringing his legs in, and trapping my knees between his. The shiny pink satin of my dress contradicts his thick legs in black suit pants, but I won’t lie, I like the juxtaposition.
“I am having a good time.”
“Then we’ll stay.” He takes a small swig of the whiskey in his glass.
His previous hard glare is now soft as he looks at me, and the slight tilt at his lips is a sight I’ll never get sick of.
Without looking away, he lifts his hand to push a few fallen strands of hair behind my ear. The pad of his thumb skims the skin of my throat, gentle and delicate but with all the confidence in the world for a man who has been nothing short of uncomfortable with faking it.
I find myself relaxing into his touch. “What are you doing?” I whisper lazily.
His eyes softly trace my face before he discreetly nods his head to the side. “Pretending.”
Oh.
His GM must be here, watching us.
My roommate stands, slipping out of his suit jacket and slinging it over my shoulders.
“Ryan—”
“Your dress has had its moment. Trust me, no one has kept their eyes off you, but you’re shivering. You’re taking my jacket.”
I’m not shivering because I’m cold.
Regardless, I tug the lapels together, covering me with the jacket’s warmth and Ryan’s scent—crisp and refined.
Ryan retakes his seat, his legs trapping mine once again. “Remind me of that guy’s name.”
I feign innocence. “What guy?”
“You know which guy.”
“Rio? He plays for the Raptors. You’ve met him before.”
“So, you see him every time you’re on the road for work?”
“Yes.”
He nods, those ocean eyes staying calm, cool, collected—a Ryan Shay signature. “Is there something going on between you two?”
“What?” I burst with a laugh. “No.”
He doesn’t respond, waiting for me to elaborate.
“He is a good friend, though.”
“Just a friend?”
“Yes, Ryan. Just a friend. What’s with the lineup of questions?”
“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. I figured I should know if you’re seeing someone.”
“Well, I’m not. You’re the only man I’m seeing. Pretend or otherwise.”
Ryan’s set shoulders drop slightly, and the movement is so minor that I could’ve imagined it. He nods. No words, simply a head movement to end the conversation.
“Are you sure you’re all right being here, or do you want to go home?”
At that moment, Stevie and Zanders take two more seats at our table, but don’t pay us any attention. Ryan’s change in posture and the ease in his eyes is unmistakable from having his sister around.
“I’m all right. Tonight is kind of fun, actually.”
He leans his elbows on his knees that bracket mine as his fingertips begin to softly dance along the satin of my dress, mindlessly tracing the fabric.
Acting. Fake. Pretend.
“You’re a different guy when your sister is around.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re relaxed because she’s here tonight.”
Ryan looks across the table to where Stevie sits. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. I guess you're right.”
“It’s nice to see you like this.”
His fingertips freeze on the satin as he watches me, lips slightly parted. After a moment, he slides his hands, taking up more residency on my legs.
Black suit, a Rolex on his wrist, and those cuff links create a daydream I can’t stop thinking about. I wonder what he looks like peeling off that suit. Does he have a specific place where he likes to store those accessories? Knowing Ryan, yes, of course, but does he organize his things even when there’s a woman waiting for him on his bed?