Friends. Pretending to be lovers.
As he helped her pull her bathrobe back up and over the gauze, Tasha added, “We play to the cameras, to annoy his mother. And to fool the world. That’s all it is.”
Play to the cameras. That video Thomas had seen, where she’d seemed to look directly at the paparazzi’s camera before giving the prince a Hollywood-worthy PDA...
Suddenly it made sense.
And yet.
“It sounds like something straight out of a rom-com,” he said.
“I know, right...? But that’s totally Ted’s MO. He’s... quirky and eccentric is the way you’re described when you’re next in line to be the king.” She’d tightly refastened the front tie of her robe, and had already slipped down off the stool to rifle through the first-aid kit for bandages for her knees. “So that’s why I wasn’t thinking about Ted. Because our relationship isn’t real. Outside of our friendship. Which of course is real.”
Thomas went back to the sink to wash his hands again. She was talking about this crazy arrangement—about Ted—carefully. Choosing her words to make sure he understood, instead of just letting the truth fly in her normal ebullient manner.
Either it was tremendously important to her that he believe what she was telling him—the caveman part of his brain liked that—or...
She wasn’t telling him quite all of the truth.
You’re leaving something out. If their roles were reversed, she wouldn’t have let it slide. She would’ve said that to him. Directly. Right in his face.
He turned to look at her as he dried his hands—she was almost done bandaging the first of her scraped knees. “Are you sure Ted feels the same way? Like it’s just a big game? Cause if this was a movie, he would’ve started the whole... what’s the romance trope called?”
“I can’t believe you still remember tropes.” She looked up to smile at him, both disbelieving and infinitely pleased.
“You were so into it—romance novels. Plus, it was interesting.” Thomas packed up the first-aid kit, since she’d taken out the supplies she needed. If they left the pod—when they left the pod—he was going to take the kit with them. Along with as much ammo as he could carry. And a supply of peanuts—but not in heavy glass jars. “I learned a lot. Read some good books, too.” The rom-com movies they’d watched endlessly were far less his thing.
“Marriage of convenience,” Tash told him. “Even though the trope’s called marriage, it includes pretend-to-be-my-girlfriend situations, too.”
“Right,” he said. “Right. And—correct me if I’m wrong—but I thought the trope was all about the way playing pretend turns friendship into real love.” He searched the drawers for the plastic baggies that Tash had found. “Because there’s something real there—some spark—from the start, even though no one acknowledges it. Except maybe one of them—let’s call him the prince, because there’s nothing like royalty to make a story extra extra—he’s got a secret.” He put the box on the counter then raised his voice as he went into the pantry to grab six jars of peanuts from the shelf. “And we all come to realize that he’s been jonesing for the, you know, plucky redheaded best friend, right from the start.”
“Oh my God!” she said. “No.” She shook her head emphatically as he came back into the kitchen and set the jars on the counter. “No! Ted isn’t... He’s not... He’s... No. I mean, I get why you might think that, because I am fabulously plucky, but absolutely not.”
“Yeah, but isn’t that how it works?” he countered as he popped open one of the jars and poured its contents into the baggie. The box said quart-sized—it was close to a perfect fit. “The plucky best friend is clueless until the prince rushes through the airport to stop her from getting onto the plane.”
“I think you’re mixing your rom-coms,” she said.
“Nah, I’m not. We watched a lot of movies on that pink settee. I just... I want you to take your time. Don’t burn your bridges with Ted before you think it through. Can you finish doing this when you’re done with your knees?” He gestured toward the jars of peanuts and the box of baggies.
“I’m on it,” she said. “But—”
“Grab us each three bottles of water and put it in that pile, too. I’mma find some kind of pack.” He headed toward the living room.
“I saw a small one, like a day pack, in the utility room,” she called after him. “Although I still don’t know how we’re going to leave here with an armed battalion outside of the hatch.”
“I doubt it’s a full battalion,” he called back as he went to look and—there it was. A dark blue day pack hanging on a hook near the orange raincoat. He grabbed it and headed back toward the kitchen. “And we’re not necessarily going to leave, we’re just ready if we need to.”
“So, we’re rushing around to then... sit around and wait?”
Thomas set the pack on the counter where he’d left the jars of peanuts. “You just described the majority of most military operations,” he told her.
“For the record,” she said, making one last adjustment to the bandages on her knees before slipping down off the stool, “I’m ready to burn bridges whenever you are.”
The world stuttered, and it might even have stopped as he turned and looked into her eyes.
“I love you,” she said with a matter-of-factness that belied the softness and vulnerability he could see in her eyes as she shared her soul with him. “I’ve always loved the idea of you, but the real you... You take my breath away. I want you back in my life. And I know it’s only been a few days that we’ve been together again, but... God, I want us. In every possible way. And maybe that’s crazy, and if you still want to wait or take it slowly, I will absolutely wait and take it as slowly as you need, but... I just want you to know that once we’re done with this prep that we’re doing, I’m more than ready to burn it all down.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tasha flashed hot and cold in that endless millennium that she stood there, gazing into Thomas’s gorgeous brown eyes after essentially propositioning him.
She moved over to the counter, and began her assigned task of transferring peanuts from jars to baggies. And, because his silence was killing her, she spoke before he did. “I’m sorry if I’m pushing too hard. I heard what you said about needing time, and I respect that, I really do. I just had to respond to your don’t burn bridges comment so you didn’t think my silence was agreement, but I promise that’s the last time I’ll talk about this. I mean, unless you’re the one who wants to discuss—”
She didn’t see or hear him move, but suddenly he was right beside her, turning her to face him and—
Slamming her into a full body embrace as he kissed her.
Hard.
His mouth against hers, his arms tightly around her—but not too tight against her injured arm, because he was always, always thinking, considering, planning, strategizing.
Protecting.
As Tasha kissed him back, she poured her heart and soul into the breathtaking intimacy of this moment, hoping that he might feel as safe in her arms.