“Which bed do you want?”

He calmly raises his brows, and I take his cue. Brushing the incident under the rug works for me.

I drop my purse on the bed that is closest to the bathroom, staking claim. We need to have a conversation about the fact that we’re stuck in a room together. I want to relax, and here I am, instead stressing out over my temporary roommate.

“Sunshine, you look like a bug right now.” He chuckles.

“Sunshine?” My heart pauses at this potential term of endearment, but then I process the rest of his sentence. “Wait. Did you just call me a bug?”

“Yep. What are you wearing those ridiculous glasses for? The sun isn’t shining in here. You aren’t hungover either.”

“I can wear my sunglasses anytime I want to.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Sure you can. They take up half your face though. Very round, too,” he adds.

“So? Round is stylish.” My teeth grind together.

“Well, if you’re going for bug-style, you’ve done it.”

I tear the glasses off my face, and there he is. No longer darkened by my lenses, but full-blown. Perfect. And then he smiles, and my heart sinks.

“There you are, Sunshine,” he croons.

“Why are you calling me that?” I huff, trying to ignore how sinfully hot he is.

“Because you are.”

“No. Right now, I’m a dark cloud.”

We both pause, and then he starts laughing—from his belly, no less.

“Lauren, you’re goddamn hilarious,” he stutters, clapping his hands together.

Dark cloud? Could I have come up with a dumber line?

He’s laughing at me. I want to laugh, too, because, fine, it was a stupid retort. This man calls me on my shit like no one else.

Jumping onto the bed near the window, he lays comfortably with his big body practically taking up the whole mattress. When he sweeps his tongue across his full bottom lip, I try not to salivate. I need to say something to clear the air. We’re stuck together for two nights, and I don’t want awkwardness.

“Just so you know,” I start, “I’d appreciate it if we could just move past last night.”

“Don’t sweat it, Sunshine. I’m past it. We’re here, sharing a room. I can keep my dick in my pants.”

“Right,” I exclaim, feigning relief. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Silence takes over the room as he grabs his phone and begins typing.

I begin unpacking my stuff when he says, “I noticed last night. It looks good, by the way.”

I turn to him, and he gestures to my arm.

My stomach warms. “Yes. You were right about that. It’s still bruised, but it’s okay.” I inhale, his smell invading my senses. Stepping back, I need to make more space between us. I’m here to find myself and figure out what the heck I’m doing with my life—not fawn over a completely inaccessible man who doesn’t see me as anything more than a good lay.