After grilling Luke on the details of his plan, his sister had sent him to his room to change—accompanied, also at Penelope’s insistence, by Vijay. He’d intended to just rinse off and put on a clean shirt, but Pen had laughed and told him if he was going to go forward with this charade, he needed to follow her rules. And one of those rules was that he “dress appropriately for the part.”
Luke never should have told his sister she was in charge. The power was already going to her head. But after a few minutes of arguing when they were already pressed for time, he finally agreed to go upstairs with Vijay so he could, according to Penelope, “look like a love interest.”
What was that even supposed to mean? Was there some secret rom-com hero dress code he was unaware of?
Apparently, there was. And it consisted of crisp dress shirts in colors the exact shade of gray as his eyes and fisherman sweaters and those knit shirts with the buttons at the neck that Vijay informed him were called Henleys.
“You sound like a Macy’s ad. How do you know all this stuff?” Luke wondered.
“How do you not?” Vijay glanced over his shoulder from his spot in front of Luke’s closet. “You’ve watched even more of those movies with your sister than I have. Didn’t you ever notice what the characters were wearing?”
“Um, this is me we’re talking about. On any given day, I hardly notice what I’m wearing.”
“Good point.” Vijay turned back to the closet and frowned. “Is this everything?”
“I’ve got a few things in the dresser.” Luke moved to open a drawer, pulling out a hoodie.
“A sweatshirt? No way.” Vijay shook his head. “Pen would kill me.” He pulled a few shirts from the closet and tossed them on the bed. “I can’t believe we’ve been living here for almost a year and these are all the clothes you own.”
“Yes, you can.”
“You’re right,” Vijay sighed. “Unfortunately, I can.”
He and Vijay had been best friends since grade school. And Luke’s fashion sense, or lack thereof, hadn’t changed in more than twenty years. Jeans. Sneakers. T-shirt. Nicer dress shirt when the occasion called for it. Lucky for him, in his line of work, the occasion rarely called for it.
Vijay stared at the clothes strewn across the bed. “This is hopeless.” He headed for the door. “Come with me.”
“We don’t have time to go shopping.”
“I know.” Vijay held the door to Luke’s room open. “We’re going to my room.”
Jay, Luke, and Penelope all had suites on a floor of the hotel reserved for staff. Vijay was just a few doors down and Pen’s room was in the opposite wing, near Mrs. W.’s suite. The contract to create the rom-com sim for the resort included room and board at the hotel. A great perk, and one of the reasons Luke had been so quick to agree to Penelope’s suggestion and apply for this programming position.
She’d been the one to find Mrs. W.’s bonkers job posting last spring, during a frantic about-to-graduate-college search on LinkUp. From the beginning, he’d thought the listing was too good to be real. The Notting Hill post had included a call for a game developer, an event planner, and a marketing director. It was as if someone had tailor-made a job opportunity for the three of them. He was in charge of creating the sim and integrating it with the hotel’s management system, Penelope oversaw plans for the guests’ dining and lodging experience, and Jay was responsible for handling marketing and designing a publicity campaign. As Pen had said, they made a great team.
Inside Jay’s room, Luke was impressed as ever by his friend’s organizational skills. The closet was filled with neatly hung shirts and pants. Who hangs up pants? All arranged by color. Jay slipped an impeccably pressed shirt from a hanger and thrust it at Luke.
“This will never work, Jay.” Luke eyed the shirt his friend held up. “I’m at least six inches taller than you.”
“Seven inches. And thanks for rubbing it in,” Vijay grumbled, throwing the shirt at Luke’s head. “It’s not my fault you’re the Jolly Green Giant.”
Luke shook his head, grinning as he recalled a similar comment made by a certain hazel-eyed girl on the beach.
“It’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing at you.”
“Then what are you smiling about?”
“The woman I met on the beach.”
“The one who got us into this mess?” Vijay wondered.
“Yeah. She called me a giant too.”
“I change my mind.” Jay frowned, giving Luke a once-over. “You’re too scrawny to be a giant.”
“Ouch. Now who’s rubbing things in?” Luke finished doing up the buttons and held out his arms. The sleeves were too short, flapping awkwardly above his wrists. “I told you this wouldn’t work.”
“What are you talking about?” Vijay rolled the cuffs midway up Luke’s forearms. “This is perfect.”
“Are you sure I can’t wear one of my own T-shirts?”
“Absolutely not. T-shirts in romantic comedies are only for guys who look like their muscles are about to bust the seams. Think Ryan Reynolds or Ben Affleck.”
“Ben Affleck sucks in rom-coms.”
“Fair point.” Vijay bobbed his head. “But my point is these are guys who also play superheroes. And as we’ve already established”—he poked Luke in the chest—“you don’t have the goods.”
“Dude. Harsh.”
“Besides,” his best friend continued, ignoring him, “if you’re going to wear a T-shirt, it should be a V-neck, and preferably black. All yours have video game characters on them.”
“Not all of them.”
“Fine. Most of them.”
“Some of those are vintage, you know.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Jay snorted. “It doesn’t matter, because you’re wearing this.”
“I don’t know.” Luke eyed himself in the mirror over Vijay’s dresser, identical to the one in his own room.
“You look great, trust me.” Vijay glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I’m done giving you compliments. Now sit down so I can do something with your hair.”
By the time Jay was finished, the cocktail hour was already in full swing. Feeling like Frogger making that first jump onto the busy highway, Luke squared his shoulders and entered the fray. All around him, people were laughing and chatting, pointing to their name tags and introducing themselves to each other as their characters.
Shit. He was late and had missed getting his name tag. Luke ran a hand through his hair and regretted it immediately. What the hell had Jay put in there? This whole thing was a disaster. He never should have attempted to make changes so late. He should have left things alone and stayed behind the scenes, where he belonged. Pen was right. Luke developed the sims. He organized them. He didn’t play in them. He should turn around, walk back out, and admit to his sister he’d made a mistake. Apologize for freaking out on her and suggest they stick with the original plan.
So what if there was a reviewer for one of the most influential pop culture websites in the country at the resort? He could figure out how to make sure she had a rave-worthy experience without getting directly involved. This secret-spy-mode shit was a ridiculous idea. What had he been thinking?
He was about to abandon the scheme and make his escape when a pair of hazel eyes met his from across the room.
And just like that, Luke knew he wasn’t going anywhere.