The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 121

That didn’t earn me much of an answer, making me cringe over my choice of words.

Without further comment, Aaron disappeared in the tiny en suite bathroom, leaving me to deal with my

awkwardness and thoughts.

Which mainly centered around Aaron—watching animation movies in the privacy of his home,

particularly Up and perhaps finding a kindred spirit in Carl—and the damn bed again.

I stood up slowly.

My gaze followed the geometric pattern that crisscrossed the comforter, all the way to where the pillows

lay. Our heads will be there, only a few inches apart. Everything I was feeling was slowly replaced by a

weird mix of anticipation and something … new.

I needed to keep my cool. It was just a bed. We were two adults who could sleep next to each other.

We were … friends now? No, I didn’t think we were. But we were not just colleagues either. Even Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

forgetting about the fact that he’d soon be my boss, I didn’t think we only qualified as two people who

worked together, argued on a regular basis, and struggled to tolerate each other for more than ten

minutes. Our deal—this love deception game we were playing—had pushed us out of that meticulously

labeled area we had been in. Shoved us right into a completely new and uncharted territory. And now,

we were more than whatever we had been. We were …

We were about to share a bed. That was the only thing I knew for sure.

That, and the fact that I needed to stop overthinking it. What I needed to be was … unaffected. Yeah. If

we were going to share a bed, I needed to stop behaving like it was a big deal. Even if it was. Because

it motherfreaking was. Aaron had been showing me just how much with his soft but unwinding touches

and these little pieces of himself that were just as provoking.

What had Rosie told me once?

“Set your goal free into the universe. Visualize it.”

That was exactly what I needed to do.

So, I visualized myself as impassive. Unconcerned. Unimpressed. I was a block of ice in the middle of

a blizzard. I’d stand solidly. Immovable and cold and calm.

Yeah.

Walking to the closet with that on mind, I pulled out my pajamas, which consisted of shorts and an old

T-shirt with Science Rocks in bold yellow letters. A part of me regretted not putting more thought into it

now that the room arrangement situation ha

d changed. Another much smaller part thought that Aaron would appreciate the message in the shirt.

That maybe he would give me one of those lopsided smirks that—

No. Those were not thoughts a block of ice would have.

Aaron walked out of the bathroom in silence, still dressed in his button-down, which now had two new

undone buttons—which, I reminded myself, did not affect me—and headed directly to his side of the

closet. Returning the silence, I slipped in the bathroom, so I could change and wash up.

Once done with that and clad in my jammies, I filled my lungs with a deep and hopefully energizing

breath and returned to the bedroom.

I didn’t know what I had expected to find, but I was surely not prepared for the sight of Aaron in only a

pair of sleeping pants. They hung low on his hips—so low that I could see the waistband of his

underwear—and they were a dark shade of gray that complemented his skin.

My gaze trailed up, and there it was. That glorious chest that I had witnessed shining under the sun

with droplets of sweat that—

Jesus, no, no, no.

I needed to stop gawking. Eating him with my eyes as if I had never seen a naked chest before. It

couldn’t be healthy. Good for my mental health.

Turning away from him a little too briskly, I fumbled with my discarded clothes. Out of the corner of my

eye, I watched him slip on a short-sleeved shirt.

Good. That was definitely good. Cover those chiseled pecs and abs, stupidly flawless man who loves

Up.

I opened the drawer of the narrow dresser and stared into it. Realizing I didn’t need anything from

there, I closed it again. I threw open one of the wardrobe doors and realized the same damn thing.

Cursing under my breath at my evident show of stupidity, I sensed Aaron move behind me.

My hands twisted the clothes I was holding into a ball.

A soft brush on the back of my arm derailed my inner pep talk, immediately lighting on fire my attempts

to convince myself I was cool and unaffected.

“What’s wrong?” He skimmed those fingers up and down the back of my arm. “You are fidgeting.”

“Nothing is wrong. I’m okay,” I lied, and I heard my own voice shake. “I’m … cool.”

I so wasn’t.

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