Almost Perfect: A Frenemies to Lovers Romance

by Claudia Burgoa

  Or maybe not, I amend, as I press her closer to my body, enjoying the feel of her soft curves against my hard muscles. Bruno and Draco aren’t around. I bet those two slept in their favorite spot—her bed.

  Should I tell her the truth? I’ve been sleeping in her bed for the past year. It’s more comfortable and... I’m pathetic.

  “Did I fall asleep?” she asks, yawning but not opening her eyes.

  Nuzzling her hair, I fight the urge to kiss her. “Uh-huh.”

  Why didn’t I try this back when I met her? Just staying next to her after…let’s not think about it. My lips almost touch her ear but not quite. I’m two seconds away from breaking the one promise I made.

  Just friends.

  It’d be so easy to slide my hand inside her sweatshirt. Fuck, this is pure torture.

  “You’re comfortable,” she declares, resting her head on my chest. “I have to go to bed, don’t I?”

  “Probably, if you’re planning on sleeping longer. I have to walk the guys, and then head to the gym,” I explain.

  One thing is for sure, I have to leave soon, before she punches me for overstepping, because I’m seconds from losing my restraint. It’s fucking hard to ignore the air crackling around us.

  The tension. The need. It’s always like this when we’re together. Not sure what I hate the most, that my brothers were right or that I have to stop myself. Ruining the chance to convince her that we can be more isn’t an option.

  “At midnight?” she whines, hugging my waist. “You’re too comfortable, don’t leave me yet.”

  Her raspy voice, the warmth of her breath and her hands are breaking my self-control. If I don’t get out of here now, I’m going to do something I’ll regret. Like tangling my fingers in her hair and claiming her mouth. I stiffen and push her slightly.

  “It’s almost six, babe,” I announce, working on untangling myself from her. “Go to bed.”

  “No, no!” Her eyes flutter open, and she springs off of the couch and disappears into her room. “I have an article due today.”

  “Do you want to come to the gym with me?” I’m not sure why I offer.

  No, that’s not true, I know. It’s because I want to spend more time with her. Hannah comes out of her room. I can’t interpret the glint in her eyes. Is she turned on and trying to hide it or upset because I spent the night with her?

  It was an accident, but this sweet woman can be vicious if I upset her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to understand what I’m facing.

  “Of course, it’s just…I’m going to have to write about our failed date from last night,” she declares, twisting her lips.

  “Failed?” I frown. “Your expectations are high, unicorn.”

  “We fell asleep,” she reminds me. “That doesn’t scream excitement and sparks, does it?”

  “Before falling asleep, did you have fun?”

  She opens her mouth, then closes it and moves her lips from side to side. “You should leave,” she says in a quiet voice, and now I’m fucking confused.

  “What, no kiss goodnight?” I tease her.

  “Out,” she snaps irritably. “We have an agreement. Just friends. I—”

  “You want me to leave, so you can call your little friend and talk about your hot date,” I say, not bothering to keep the amusement out of my voice.

  “Out,” she repeats, pissed.

  I take the leash and hook the guys into it before telling her. “Be ready, tonight we’re going out.”

  “Where are we going?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s a surprise,” I say with a laugh, because for a woman who’s complaining about our date, she sounds not only curious but excited. “I’ll be back around noon, unless you want me to take them to work.”

  “Work?” She blinks a couple of times. “Where is your shop? More importantly, where would you put them?”

  “We built a special glass room for them. They’re safe and close to me.” I pull out a business card and give it to her. “In case you want to visit me.”

  Narrowing her gaze, she steps closer to me.

  “Why the suspicious look?”

  “I’m onto you, Alexander Spearman. One misstep and…”

  “I’m on my best behavior, Hades,” I reassure her.

  “F-r-i-e-n-d-s and without benefits.” She lifts a warning finger. “This isn’t a joke.”

  I chuckle and caress her jaw with the back of my hand, bending close to her. “At least accept it. You had a good time last night.”

  Her eyes shine, and her lips part. I feel her need, the pull. It’d be too easy to give in to the moment. I don’t give in because this time I know the price I’ll pay for being impulsive.

  Kissing her nose, I say, “See you around.”

  “Hey, stranger,” Hannah greets me, as she enters my office.

  She looks around and smiles when she spots the glass room. It has a couple of cat trees, a bed, and plenty of toys for Bruno and Draco.

  “That’s pretty cool.” She points toward it. “Where did you get the idea?”

  “Jackson’s wife,” I explain. “She has a special place for her cats in her company. Sushi and Ramen are social and would rather go to her office than stay at home. She helped me set this up.”

  “If I didn’t hate you, I would kiss you for being such a caring guy,” she says and pulls her tablet out of her messenger bag. “Since you care so much. What do you think?”

  “About?” I ask curious. This is the first time she’s asked for my opinion.

  “Well, I just feel like we need to publish something different before I share the sequence of dates we plan on having,” she explains. “In fact, I thought that perhaps I don’t need to meet anyone real. You and I can just make up stuff. What do you think?”

  That you’re scared. But trying to get out of this dating stunt is impossible because your followers want more.

  Instead of answering what I think, I read her article.

  Thirty-Nine

  Kill Your Dating App

  By Hannah Bell

  According to the dictionary, serendipity (ser·en·dip·i·ty) is the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

  Is it possible to have a serendipitous moment when we trust technology for everything—even meeting other people?

  Perhaps, but let’s be honest, it was easier for the ‘you got mail’ generation.

  Have you ever heard that the internet killed humanity?

  During my travels, one of my guides mentioned it at least once a day. He’s not right. He’s not wrong. We’re still alive, but our humanity is in bad shape. We lack empathy and compassion.

  Dating in the real world is close to impossible. How do you attract someone in the real world, as opposed to doing so online or through an app?

  Every year, there are more and more dating apps. Many of us agree that by swiping left or right, we’re making a choice without having to leave the comfort of our bedroom. The person on the other side knows our expectations. Some are willing to meet them while others swipe left.

  What if, instead, you try offline dating?

  I asked that question myself, and as you know, I’m trying it. So far, it’s scary.

  Honestly, I’m not sure where to start. I went to the bookstore, searching for a guide. There’s nothing on dating in the modern-day. I browsed the internet. My search was for tips on how to find love. Where are the right places?

  There’s nothing from this decade that could help me. Everything I read referenced the most recent apps.

  My next approach was contacting my father. The guy’s in his mid-fifties. Surely, he knows how it was done back in the day. He answered my question with three simple words. “I’m not old.”

  (He’s old enough.)

  So far, I upset the old man. I bought two new outfits for my date that are not my style, and one of my best friends might stop talking to me because I keep telling him all the deets.


  Mom, who’s incredibly supportive, texted me a few tips:

  1) Open with a simple conversation.

  2) Avoid corny pick-up lines and if a guy approaches you with one, walk away.

  3) Ask questions but don’t sound like a lawyer in the middle of a deposition.

  4) Sound interested, but don’t force it.

  5) Avoid text conversations.

  6) Learn how to connect and be authentic.

  7) If everything fails, create a new profile on Tinder.

  You guessed it. She has a great sense of humor. So, I met a guy. He’s easy to talk to, funny, and good looking. Our first date is tonight. Not sure if he’ll do more pick-up lines. The ones he already used on me were beyond corny. I should walk away, but did I mention he’s funny? (And hot!)

  Wish us luck.

  Until Next Time

  Forty

  Alex

  “You’re good at making up shit, Hades,” I confess, laughing at the crazy quotes she has on some pictures. She actually made graphics with the lines I used on her a couple of years back. “Those are some serious pick-up lines.”

  “Corny,” she says. “I can’t believe you used them.”

  “What? They were good?” I look annoyed, but when I reread them out loud, I can’t help but laugh. “I just can’t believe you remember them all.”

  She nods. “What do you think?”

  “So tomorrow, you’re posting what happened yesterday?”

  “Next Sunday,” she says, taking her tablet back. “We set a schedule. Wednesday and Sunday.”

  “What’s going to happen when you let go of this impressive guy who managed to score a date with you?” I wiggle my eyebrows. “And who’s hot?”

  “They don’t need to know if there’s a real happy ending,” she declares, hiding her smile.

  “You’re still going to find your person, right?”

  She nods. “Yes, I just want that part to be mine. Look, yesterday was great, but it’s something I don’t want to share with the readers.”

  “Why?” I ask, trying not to get upset.

  “It’s a ‘what would Hannah Bell should do moment,’” she answers. “I had fun. It was great. I could make a quirky, fun article about our burrito sushi. They’re a delicious, gastronomic abomination.”

  “We’re having those for lunch, yesterday was Chinese.”

  “Yeah, but burrito sushi sounds fun. You described them so well that I can write about it.”

  “Okay?” I frown. Where is she going with this?

  She nods and continues, “Our challenge to watch all the Marvel movies, and how you have a crush for Captain Marvel.”

  “Dude, I’m not the one pining for an old guy. Seriously, Dr. Strange?”

  She grins. “Cumberbatch is hot.”

  “You should at least go for Pratt or Hemsworth.”

  “Everybody likes a jock, not me.”

  “Athletes are smart, too,” I protest.

  “Not important,” she says, waving her hand. “My point is I’m not going to share that with my readers. It’s too private. Mine. Would people swoon and cheer for us after I mentioned I fell asleep in your arms?”

  She shakes her head. “That’s mine, something Hannah wouldn’t care to share. I don’t want to tell the world about those things.”

  Wait, is she swooning and cheering for us?

  I scratch my head because I feel like I’m missing something that matters, and if I let it go now, it can be catastrophic.

  “Does June know about it?”

  She shakes her head. “She’s going to ask who the guy is and... you don’t want to go there, do you?”

  Where is there?

  I feel lost in this conversation. A part of the article makes me feel like we’re getting somewhere. This conversation doesn’t clarify anything.

  “What if I don’t care what June knows?” I ask, considering the words.

  “Is it wise to tell her anything?”

  I feel how we’re teetering between the words. “Maybe not yet.”

  She nods. “Great, I’m going to polish it, add some funny comments, and send it to Ethan for his review.”

  “Does he know about our arrangement?”

  She shakes her head. “This doesn’t have to go beyond the two of us.”

  “Ready to go for lunch?” I ask.

  She rubs her stomach and nods.

  “Let me get my jacket.”

  She studies me, and her silence worries me. I feel like she’s hiding something from me. For now, I’ll let her keep the secret. Did she find someone to date for real?

  Forty-One

  Hannah

  I’d be lying if I say that having your date drive you to the airport and swoop you into a private jet isn’t hot. However, I’m also not a fan of guys who show off what they have. It’s just plain lazy, and a way to say, I have money, adore me.

  Maybe I’m wrong and I’m just jaded. Alex refuses to tell me where he’s taking me, and it’s driving me crazy.

  Last night, we stargazed. Wine, a picnic basket, and the open space in Napa. We dined on top of an old pickup truck. His first car. I can’t believe he still has it. He bought it with his first paycheck. It was mind-blowingly romantic. I never expected something so incredible coming from him.

  It was hard to say goodnight. The best part was when he knocked on the wall of my bedroom and said, “Goodnight, unicorn.”

  I pressed my hand against the wall until I fell asleep.

  This stupid game I’m playing with Alex Spearman is challenging. I’m liking who he is more than I should. If I’m not careful, I could fall for him.

  “Kidnapping can’t be part of this exercise,” I complain.

  “Or so you say,” he answers. He’s been trying to stay focused on me even when he’s working on a production issue.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He takes my hand and gently caresses the back with his thumb. I shiver and sigh, wanting to hug him. I’m avoiding physical contact as much as I can. If not, I’ll end up jumping him. Sex with him is great. Not just great, heavenly. It also reminds me why I should hate him, so it’s off the table.

  “This is a terrible real date,” I groan, claiming back my hand. “Normal people don’t just jump on a private plane to...where are we going?”

  “Alaska,” he answers, checking his watch. “If we hurry, we can fish for crabs. You can cook them.”

  “Ha, ha. He thinks he’s funny.”

  “You told your readers that I’m funny,” he reminds me, with his arrogant smile gracing his face. “And hot.”

  “The imaginary guy I’m dating,” I correct him.

  “Well, trust the imaginary guy,” he repeats for the fourth time.

  “I’m trying, but we’ve been in this metal trap for two hours, and I have no idea how long—”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please make sure to fasten your seat belts, we’re about to land at Centennial Airport. The weather in Englewood is fifty-three degrees. I hope you enjoyed your flight.”

  “Hiring a charter for a date is not something everyone can do,” I continue.

  “What if the guy owns the jet?”

  I don’t answer. But when we descend the stairs, I’m expecting many things…none of them being a hot ride.

  “You’re just showing off,” I complain. “If this was a real date, I’d dump your ass right about now.”

  He laughs, and when he sobers up, he says. “I guarantee you’re going to love this date.”

  “I already hate it,” I insist. “Dinner in some expensive restaurant hours away from home where you’ll show how crazy rich you are, and you think after that I’ll fall right at your feet.”

  I cross my arms and say, “No, thank you, I’m heading back home.”

  “Give me twenty minutes.” He winks at me. “Get in the car. Trust me, you’re going to love this more than anything in the world.”

  I growl and shake my head.

  “If you hate i
t, I’ll do anything you want,” he proposes.

  “Anything?”

  He nods. “But if you love it,” he pauses, while steering me toward the passenger door, “as much as I know you would, you’ll trust me on setting up all the dates from this day forward.”

  Glaring at him, I wonder what he’s up to.

  “After today, I’m in charge.”

  Huffing, I agree because this guy doesn’t know me one bit. “Fine.”

  Alex’s arrogant smile is annoying and breathtaking. It’s hard to ignore it—him. But I know I have to. He’s him. Alex Spearman could never be my forever person.

  “Why are we here?” I ask, as we pull out of the airport. “Where is here?”

  There’re at least two or three states that have a city named Englewood—that I know of.

  He smiles and doesn’t say a word. “We should be there in twenty minutes.”

  “There?”

  The problem with this country is that most of the interstates look so much alike, I confuse them. I’m surprised when he exits just a few minutes later. I spot a couple of fancy restaurants.

  “Those are chains, Spearman. Couldn’t get something fancy and original?”

  He laughs and speeds up leaving the restaurants behind, and entering into a residential area. A fancy one for that matter. I frown because where is he taking me?

  “Did I mention kidnapping is illegal?”

  “At least twice, I should ask for a hefty ransom. I’m kidnapping music royalty,” he jokes.

  I take out my phone and unlock it. “I’m sending everyone I know my coordinates. If I don’t text them within an hour—”

  “You’re so dramatic,” he complains, but in fact, there’s humor in his voice. “You’re just going to spoil the surprise. Give me five more minutes.”

  “If anything, this is the craziest date in the history of the world,” I say, staring at a circle driveway where he pulls over. “Well, this is fancy.”

  He turns to look at me. “It’s okay at best, wait for me,” he orders before leaving the car.