“Red or white?”
“Pardon?” Julia peered around the blank canvas set up in front of her.
A server held out a tray of wineglasses. “Would you prefer red or white?”
“Is ‘both’ an option?” Andie asked, answering her own question by two-fisting it. She set the glasses down in the tray of her easel.
Julia laughed and selected a glass of white. “Romantic comedies where one of the characters is an artist—go!” Julia ordered, pointing her finger at Kat.
Kat squeezed her eyes shut, thinking. “Oh!” Her eyes snapped open. “Kat!” She giggled. “From 10 Things I Hate About You.”
“She wants to go to art school. Very good.” Julia pivoted. “Andie?”
“Hm.” Andie fidgeted with the blank canvas on her easel. “The heroine in Austenland keeps a sketchbook. What was her name?”
“Miss Erstwhile,” Kat said, then paused, nose wrinkling, “Wait. That was her character name. Her real name was Jane.” She grinned. “Kind of like what we’re doing here, huh?”
“Yeah, but at least they managed to remember their role-playing names,” Julia pointed out. “We gave up on that by like day two.”
“The costumes probably helped,” Andie snorted. “Though it also made things more immersive. Harder to remember it was all just a game.”
Julie caught the note of caution in her friend’s voice and glanced up curiously.
But whatever Andie had been thinking, she let it slide. “Your turn, Jules.” She tapped her easel. “Rom-com featuring an artistic character.”
“All I can think of is Jane from Jane Eyre,” Julia admitted. “I don’t think that counts.”
“Yeah, no.” Andie shook her head. “Definitely not a rom-com.”
“More like a rom-sad,” Kat agreed. “Or rom-traum. Is that a genre?”
“If not, it should be,” Andie said, reaching for her wine. She drained one glass and waved the server over, holding up the now empty glass for a refill while starting on the other. By the time the woman had finished pouring a second red, Andie was ready to have the white refilled as well.
“Efficient,” Julia noted.
“Always.”
“Going for the drunk artist aesthetic, I see,” Kat observed.
“No.” Andie grinned. “I simply require a bit of liquid inspiration.”
“If I was Zach, I’d need some liquid courage,” Kat admitted, letting the server top off her glass.
“That’s right,” Andie purred. “He’s going to be our model for the evening.”
“He told me the technical term is subject, not model,” Kat informed them with a haughty air of importance. Then she ruined the effect by snickering. “I wonder what it must feel like to stand stark naked and have your private bits scrutinized by a room full of people.”
“Cold, is my guess.” Andie slipped a bill into the server’s apron and winked. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other this evening.” She lowered her voice and added drily, “We’re going to be seeing a lot of Zach, as well.”
Kat giggled. “I just realized this is like taking dick pics to the next level.”
“I’d be fine painting a bowl of fruit or something,” Julia muttered.
“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure you’ll get to see a banana.” Kat grinned.
“And some peaches,” Patrick added, matching Kat’s grin as he took the easel next to hers.
David waved a greeting and settled behind the last easel in their row. “Is it peach or peaches?”
“Oh, no.” Patrick winced with a long-suffering sigh. “Not the peaches debate.”
Andie raised a curious eyebrow. “What’s this about?”
“Whether one says peach or peaches when referring to one’s ass,” David explained, fiddling with pots of paint on his easel. “Or anyone’s ass, frankly.”
“I’m going to get some wine,” Patrick announced.
“Red for me, please,” David called after Patrick, as he moved to chase down the server.
Kat tapped David on the shoulder with her paintbrush. “Tell us more about this great butt debate.”
“Well, my grandmother would always say peaches, but I think that’s because she was talking about cute little baby butt cheeks,” David explained. “However, when using an emoji, it’s just a peach, right? One peach, singular.” He gestured with his hands. “For the whole ass.”
“Hm.” Julia shared a glance with Andie. “That’s a conundrum.”
“Quite the pickle, indeed,” Andie agreed, picking up her glass again. She glanced up and sputtered, spitting wine. “Speaking of pickles…”
Julia turned in the direction of her friend’s gaze. “Oh, my.” While they’d been getting schooled in the peach debate, Zach had made his grand entrance. He was now standing on a platform in the center of the room, disrobing.
“Looks like I’m just in time,” Patrick said, returning with the wine.
David accepted his glass and took a healthy swallow. “Now that is a well-groomed peach.”
“Mm-hm, very smooth,” Kat hummed in agreement.
Andie inspected Zach over the rim of her wineglass. “Do you think he waxes or shaves?” she wondered.
“Both,” Patrick guessed.
“Professionally,” David added.
Andie nodded sagely. “That explains his nicely peeled banana.”
Julia almost spit wine as she burst out laughing. “What does that even mean?”
Kat snickered. “It means you got your fruit bowl after all, Jules.”
Once everyone got the produce jokes out of their system, the group settled down and started painting. For the next half hour or so, everyone sipped wine and chatted quietly while jazz music played from speakers set up in one corner of the room. Julia was pleasantly surprised to discover that the whole experience was rather relaxing.
“Maybe it’s the wine talking,” Andie said, turning to Kat after finishing her second round of twofers, “but painting your boyfriend’s penis isn’t as awkward as I’d thought it would be.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kat pointed out.
“Your pretend boyfriend, then,” Andie said waving her paintbrush in the air as if dismissing the details.
Kat eyed Andie caustically but didn’t argue. “Where’s your pretend boyfriend?”
“Who? Curt?”
“Ha! Then you admit it!” Julia crowed. “I knew you liked him.”
“I tolerate him,” Andie sniffed. “He’s busy with the wedding party tonight. Rehearsal dinner or something.”
“He’s really here for a wedding?” Julia asked.
“Yep. That was all true. The wedding is Sunday.” Andie paused, then added, “He mentioned something to me about being his plus-one.”
“Wait, like a real date?” Julia demanded. “Beyond this simulation thing?”
“Plus-ones aren’t real dates,” Andie argued.
“It’s absolutely a real date.” Kat tapped her fingers. “There’s dinner, drinking, dancing, usually some banging in a hotel room—or a church confessional.”
“What?” Andie and Julia both demanded.
“Please tell me it wasn’t with a priest,” Julia begged.
“Please tell me it was,” Andie encouraged.
“Not a priest. I don’t think.” Kat shrugged, brushing it off. “So? Are you planning to go?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“See?” Kat clapped her hands. “I told you true love can happen here!”
“Whoa, slow down. Nobody said anything about true love. I haven’t even said yes yet.” Andie glanced around the room. “Where’s the wine lady?”
Julia grinned. Seeing her usually chill friend get flustered was an unexpected but interesting development.
Even though she’d begun this experience intending to prove her friends wrong and show them it was impossible to experience real feelings while playing pretend, that the kind of love they were hoping to find was a fantasy, Julia had to admit, the longer she was here, the more the possibility was starting to seem, well … possible.
“What about Luke?” Kat asked.
“What about Luke?” Julia wondered, heart ballooning at the mention of his name. “I haven’t seen him all day,” she admitted, deflating a little. “I don’t know where he is tonight.”
“I do,” David said, and pointed.
Julia craned her neck to look past her easel. Sure enough, Luke was standing in the corner of the room by the sound system. “What’s he doing?”
“Plugging in a microphone,” Patrick said matter-of-factly.
The artsy jazz music cut out, followed by a screech of audio feedback.
Everyone in the room cringed and turned toward the sound.
As if suddenly aware he had an audience, Luke stopped fiddling with the mic and glanced around uncomfortably. “Uh, good evening.”
In the center of the room, Zach waved and pointed to his pedestal. Eyes wide with consternation, Luke shook his head adamantly. The awkward standoff continued until, with a huff of disgust, Zach yanked his robe on and marched over to the corner.
“What’s going on?” Julia wondered, as Zach pushed Luke forward, sending him stumbling toward the platform. “You don’t think he’s planning to—”
“Show us his banana?” Andie asked, smirking.
“I think I kno-o-ow,” Kat sang, turning her paintbrush into a microphone.
Julia glanced at her friend. “He wouldn’t.”
“It was the bonus activity you selected, right?” Andie asked.
“Yeah, but I didn’t expect…” Her voice faltered as she watched Luke step onto the platform.
“Good evening,” Luke said again. He cleared his throat. “I would like to dedicate this to someone I wanted to do something special for.” He paused, nodding at Zach. A moment later, the first soft strains of a vaguely familiar eighties song filled the room. He shifted in a circle on the platform until he faced Julia. “I think she knows who she is.”
Julia watched, frozen, as Luke lifted the mic to his lips. He wasn’t singing, exactly, but making a sort of breathy humming sound. She glanced down, discomfited. It was her fault he was subjecting himself to this humiliation.
But as Luke broke into the first line of the song, Julia met his eyes. And once their gazes locked, she couldn’t look away. She bit her lip, wondering how it was possible for her heart to be a balloon and her stomach a stone at the same time.
He might not be Heath Ledger in the bleachers, but his deep voice was tender and sincere, if off-key. And that bit of imperfection only made it all the more endearing. Julia’s breath caught in her chest as something warm and delicate unfurled inside her.
Andie reached for her hand and squeezed. Eyes still locked on Luke, Julia squeezed back, grateful to have something to hold on to, a link to solid ground, as her world slipped on its axis.
When the song reached its chorus, Luke lowered the microphone. Music still playing, eyes still on Julia, he reached out his hand to her.
“What are you waiting for?” Andie asked
Kat leaned toward Julia and whispered in her ear, “Go to him.”
Julia looked at her friends. They both nodded. Andie gave her one more squeeze, releasing her hand with a look that said if Julia didn’t join Luke, she was out of her mind.
She felt out of her mind. Breathless and scared and excited, she stepped forward to where Luke stood waiting for her on the raised platform, arm still outstretched.
She reached her hand out and he clasped her fingers in his and pulled her onto the platform.
“Hi,” she breathed. The man stands up in a room full of people to sing to you and the best you can do is, “Hi”? She dropped her gaze, abashed. They were so close that their toes were almost touching.
“Hi.” He brushed a thumb across her cheek.
She glanced up, meeting his gray gaze as he rubbed the smudge of paint from her skin. A wave of giddy dizziness washed over her, and she swayed.
Luke reached out to steady her, a smile as tender and sincere as his voice had been curving his mouth. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Julia lied. Cheek still tingling from his touch, she pulled herself together and realized they both were swaying now, almost dancing to the music. And then his arm was around her waist and they were dancing.
Julia relaxed against Luke, cheek pressed to his chest. After a moment, she tilted her chin to look up at him and smile.
“What is it?” he asked.
“You’re so tall my ear is right over your heart.”
“Can you hear it beating?” he wondered. “Even over the music?”
“No.” She shook her head, still smiling. “But I can feel it.”
His gray eyes went dark with some strong emotion. He bent and pressed his lips to her forehead in a kiss that was somehow firm and featherlight at the same time.
Slowly, Julia recalled that even though it seemed like the world had melted away, they were not in fact alone. She stole a sideways glance and noticed that others had decided to join in the romantic moment. Several couples were swaying together, dancing between the easels.
She went up on tiptoe to whisper in Luke’s ear, “You want to get out of here?”
He stilled, heat sparking in his gaze as his grin turned playful. “Lead the way.”
They scurried out of the art studio, and Julia debated where to go. The lobby was a noisy menagerie of guests. On impulse, she headed for the bank of elevators. Before she could hit the button to head up to her floor, Luke grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, wondering if she’d misread him. Maybe he didn’t want to go up to her room with her.
He pulled her into the stairwell and pressed a finger to his lips.
A moment later, Mrs. Weatherfork and her entourage of corgis swept past, skirts swishing and fluffy butts wagging as they continued down the hall.
“That was close,” she exhaled. Hand still clasped with his, she turned and pulled him up the steps, laughing as he wheezed and demanded that she slow down. But she didn’t slow down, not until they were in her room, their backs against the door, both of them panting from the exertion.
“We’re so pathetic,” she shook her head, exhaling in mild disgust at herself. “I’m already sweating.”
“Never,” he declared. He leaned his shoulder against the door and grinned, voice teasing. “You’re glowing.”
“Is that what this is?” She swiped a hand across her forehead and threatened to wipe it on him. “Glow juice?”
“Hey!” Luke yelped and snatched at her hand, playfully tugging it away from his face.
She giggled.
But as he gazed down at her, the silly mood evaporated.
Julia swallowed. Her heart raced, pulse pounding in her wrist, where his fingers were still locked around her. Luke pressed a kiss to her palm. She shivered, the electricity of his touch igniting a path of nerve-searing need all the way up her arm.
He pulled back and met her eyes again. “Julia.” He whispered her name, a desperate, reverent sound. He bent his head and kissed her hand again, lips brushing first her wrist and then her knuckles and then her fingers.
Julia watched, desire careening through her as he nipped at her fingers with his teeth. One by one, he pulled her fingers into his mouth, sucking gently. Each tug pulled at something deep inside her. Her knees wobbled. “I think…” she began, swallowing hard as he stroked her with his tongue. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Whatever you need.” And then they were on her bed—her big, wonderful, king-size hotel bed—and he was stretched out on top of her, one long lean leg pressed between her thighs. “When I look at you,” he said, caressing the curve of her jaw with his knuckle, “when I’m with you, I feel…” Luke sucked in a breath, his throat working. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” He lifted her face to his. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He dipped his head, then paused, meeting her gaze again. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Okay,” she echoed, licking her lips in anticipation.
His kisses were sweet, tantalizing nibbles, as if her mouth were dessert, a treat he wanted to savor and make last.
“I have to tell you something,” Julia whispered, shivering as his fingers trailed over her hip, his teeth grazing her neck and his hands in her hair. “I might have had a few dreams about you in this bed.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“What were we doing?”
“Well…” She reached for his hand. “You were helping me decide on a new ranking system.”
“I was?” His brow furrowed. “I suppose that makes sense. Ranking systems are one of the first things a developer learns.”
Julia giggled. He was so smart, but also so adorably clueless.
He cocked his head and looked at her, mouth curling in a sheepish grin. “You weren’t talking about programming, were you.”
She shook her head, pulling his hand under her skirt and between her legs.
“Oh,” he rasped, comprehension dawning. “That ranking.”
“You remember, then?” she asked, cheeks burning with a sudden bashfulness even as she grew bolder, splaying his fingers wide and rubbing herself against him.
“Did you reach a verdict?” Luke asked, voice low and strained.
“Not yet,” she teased, the boldness winning as she slid their hands into her panties. “I woke up before I could decide.”
“Let’s see if I can help you make up your mind,” he murmured. He caressed and teased, his clever fingers tracing every intimate line, making her ache. Making her want. Making her need.
Julia moaned, hands dropping to her sides, fisting in the sheets as she gave him control, let him take over. She gasped when the rough pad of his thumb brushed over her clit. He stroked her there, back and forth, round and round. Slow, tender circles that made the tension build in deliciously agonizing spirals.
There was nothing clueless about the way he touched her. The way he seemed to learn her body so quickly, as if every twitch of her hips was a lesson, every sound she made a clue. She spread her thighs wider, wanting him closer. Wanting more.
In an instant, he was giving her exactly what she asked for, increasing the pressure of his thumb while his fingers slipped inside, stroking deep within her, fast and hard and sure, until Julia was gasping for breath, whimpering as her release rolled over her in a tsunami of sensation that left her limp, legs trembling with aftershocks.
Julia closed her eyes, the carnal bliss seeping into her bones. Once her heartbeat finally slowed and her breathing returned to almost normal, she glanced up to see him propped on one elbow, staring down at her.
“Well?” He rested his chin on in his hand, the picture of scholarly curiosity. “What do you think?”
“I think that was so much better than my dream.” She lolled beneath him, a sated rag doll.
Luke’s mouth quirked in a crooked grin. His gray eyes drifted over her, a look of such satisfaction and joy on his face that Julia felt another wave of emotion roll through her.
But this feeling wasn’t lust. It was something else. Something more complex. A steel band wrapped around Julia’s chest and squeezed. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but lie there, counting her heartbeats as they hammered against her ribs.
Julia had never believed the kind of moments that happened in movies could happen in real life. The kind where your heart stopped when you caught the gaze of that one person across the room. The kind of moment that made you feel all happy and silly inside. She didn’t believe they could be real because she wasn’t even sure if love was real.
That wasn’t it, exactly. She knew love was real. The kind of love she felt for her friends and family. But deep down, she wasn’t sure “true love” was real—the kind that made you say and do ridiculous over-the-top things the way people did in romantic comedies.
“How do you know love exists?” she asked suddenly.
“Hm?” Luke’s voice was a distracted muffle against her skin as he dipped his head to nuzzle her neck.
“True love,” she clarified. Unable to stop, because apparently she’d become that person in a romantic comedy who couldn’t help spewing her thoughts and feelings all over the place, Julia pressed on. “The kind that makes your heart swell and breath catch. Makes your skin feel itchy and your eyes tear…”
“Sounds like a bad case of seasonal allergies to me,” he teased, lips pressed to the hollow behind her ear. The entire time she’d been rambling, he had continued to kiss her, mouth moving over her shoulder, her collarbone, her throat.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m talking about those feelings you see in movies. When the character’s face is glowing, lips twitching like they’re afraid to smile, afraid because they’re both happy and scared at the same time and it’s both painful and wonderful—” She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut, struggling against all those exact feelings, even as she asked the question. “Does that actually exist?”
“Love?” he asked, sitting up. “You’re asking me if I think true love exists?”
Her body suddenly cold without his against it, Julia swallowed and forced herself to meet his eyes. Holy shit, yes, true love exists. There, reflected in his gaze, she saw the look she was giving him. True love is real. It was impossible to escape the truth on her own face, and everything fell into place. It’s real, and I know … because I think I’m in love with Luke.
“Yes,” she croaked. Accepting this truth seemed to set everything free inside her, releasing a torrent of emotion. Julia’s heart swelled, the steel band around her chest snapping. Suddenly, she could breathe again. “Yes,” she said, inhaling deeply.
When he’d looked at her tonight, time had stopped and she’d felt something shift inside her. No wonder it felt like the earth had moved. She hadn’t realized it then, but in that one moment, her world had changed. In that one moment, she’d fallen.
“Yes,” she said again, reaching out and pulling Luke back down on top of her. “Because I’m starting to believe true love might be real.”