Page 30 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

LAUREN

“Home sweet home.” Fitz turns the key to unlock his apartment door and I’m suddenly brought to the realization that I’m going to be staying here.

With him. As his girlfriend—well, fake girlfriend.

Although I must say I have been doing a hell of an acting job since we got off that plane.

If real estate ever stops being fun maybe I’ll be an actress.

We walk through the door and I’m surprised by the way it doesn’t feel…

cold. I half expected a couch that doesn’t look even remotely like it was made to be sat on, abstract black and white art on the wall, and something that screams bachelor pad lingering in the corner, like Joey’s big, white dog from FRIENDS or something.

Instead, I’m met with warm tones of beige, navy blue, and rust. A painting of a farm with a single tree out in the middle of a field as the sun sets in the distance, as well as a plush area rug that Ginny would live on.

The entertainment center has one shelf full of books, one with DVDs, and another with records on display.

I almost roll my eyes, thinking it’s all for show, then I see it.

On the opposite side of an old wooden piano, a record player sits on the other side of the room, on a table with another massive stack of records.

Not for looks at all, you can tell by the way they’re scattered about that they get used.

“If you’re done judging who I am as a person from the look of my living room, I can show you the rest of the place.” I look up to see Fitz standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking at me with those stupidly perfect white teeth.

“I’m not judging.” I shrug, only partially lying. I am judging him, but in a completely different way than I thought I would be. I’m just too surprised by that fact and exhausted, to think of anything clever to say.

“Kitchen is here, obviously.” He points to the kitchen right across from the living room.

“This is the half bath, right next to my office.” I peek inside and see the single desk in the middle of the floor, which is immaculately clean, with a black leather chair behind it.

There’s no rug, no plants, not even any artwork.

Just a filing cabinet in the corner and the desk.

There is a small suede futon on the wall opposite his desk, but it’s still a lonely-looking office.

“What’s up there?” I point to the spiral staircase and look up towards a loft.

“Nothing, actually. Maybe some storage bins. I never really had much use for the extra space. I thought about making it a record room, but I prefer to have it in the living room. Easier to access when I’m in the kitchen.

Hmm. Interesting.

“Show me the shower next?” His relaxed features become more rigid before he leads me through the next door.

“Right this way.” We walk into his bedroom and I frown. “There’s only one shower. In the master bedroom.” I swallow past the slight discomfort of knowing I’ll have to shower so close to his bedroom and try to play it off.

“Makes sense.” I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how painfully aware I am of how small of a space we’re about to be sharing.

No matter if it’s only for the weekend; if the plane ride and little stop at baggage claim were any indicator of how Fitz is going to play his part in all of this, I’m in for a tension-filled weekend.

Maybe it won’t be like that the whole weekend though.

This whole thing is for show, right? Meaning things like that will more than likely only happen when watchful eyes are around and not when we’re behind closed doors.

We walk into the bathroom and he turns on the light, my eyes pop when I take in the massive space.

“There’s room over here for your stuff, I don’t know how much you packed but I don’t use much so take all the drawer and counter space you need.

Just leave me room to brush my teeth, would you?

” I glare at the back of his head as he walks closer to the shower.

There are two sinks in the vanity and the largest walk-in shower I’ve ever seen.

“No tub?” I frown as I voice my observation. When my eyes meet his again he’s just…staring at me. It takes him a moment to finally answer.

“No. But there’s two shower heads in there with excellent water pressure so hopefully that makes up for it.” I peek into the shower and see the two shower heads on either end.

“A shower with room for two, why am I not surprised?” I scoff, immediately embarrassed when I realize I said that out loud.

Oh my god, I have got to stop doing this. Especially around him.

I quickly turn and walk towards the vanity, getting myself far away from the shower and, by association, any stupid comments that may come flying out of my filterless mouth.

I stop at the counter and my eyes immediately find Fitz’s in the reflection, like a moth to a dark-haired, blue-eyed flame.

He slowly walks up behind me, stopping just short of his body touching mine.

His head tilts to one side, his eyes lazily raking over me.

Then he reaches up, silently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and I completely stop breathing.

The feather-like touch of his finger brushes my jawline, and my stupid eyes flutter closed.

The heat from his body disappears before I finally open them again, and I find him standing in the doorway, smirking at me.

“Enjoy your shower.”

“I still have to grab my stuff.” I start walking towards the door but stop when he stands up taller.

“I can bring it to you.” I narrow my eyes at him and cross my arms over my chest.

“You’re gonna bring my stuff into me…while I’m in the shower? Absolutely not. We’re fake dating, Fitz, remember? Seeing me naked is not part of the agreement.” That smirk of his is back, with the hint of devilishness that makes me weak in my stupid knees.

“If I wanted to see you naked, Sweetheart. I’d only have to close my eyes.

” My mouth pops open as he walks away. He returns a moment later with my bags, setting them outside the door with a knock before disappearing into another part of the apartment.

I hate that he remembers that night and I don’t.

Not entirely, at least. Sure I had parts of it come screaming back to me after running into him that night at the saloon, but he seems to have a much more solid memory of it and I wish I could just crawl through his brain and see it through his eyes.

“When you’re done, I’d also like a chance to shower. Before the hot water runs out.” I roll my eyes and lock the door. Barely catching the last thing he says before I head for the shower. “Mind those eyes, Trouble.”

Un-freaking-believable.

Well, he was right about one thing—the water pressure in here is enough to make up for there not being a soaking tub.

I take a deep breath as I step out of the shower, letting the eucalyptus scent from my shampoo fill my senses.

I can’t accurately describe the sensation I get from having minty fresh hair , but it’s invigorating.

I don’t even feel like I’ve been up since five AM.

I’m wide ass awake now and somehow, hungry again.

I finished applying my lotion, moisturizer, and frizz-control hair oil before realizing I only brought my hygiene bag into the bathroom.

Meaning all of my clean clothes are in the bedroom.

I unlock the door and swing it open, drawing in a sharp breath when I see Fitz filling the doorway.

“Jesus Christ, have you been standing there this whole time?” I hear him inhale, watching as his nostrils flare and his eyes darken before I realize I’m standing in front of him in nothing but a towel.

I hug it closer to me as if it will help combat whatever thoughts are swarming his mind right now, and try to explain.

“My clothes are in there.” I nod to my suitcase lying open on the floor behind him.

He lets out a noise that is something between a growl and a hum, inching closer to me.

“If you don’t want me to see you naked, Trouble, take your clothes with you when you shower.

” He moves past me into the bathroom, causing me to robotically turn, switching places with him.

I narrow my eyes, ready to mouth off to him—maybe ask why the hell he was trying to become one with the fucking door before I was even out of the bathroom—but I catch the slightest glimpse of a tortured look in his eyes that causes me not to.

“Uh. Sorry,” I whisper before he slams the door in my face.

That’s fair.

I’m still not sure where I stand with Fitz. I’ve spent so long hating him for coming to Coleson’s the way he did, for lying, for micromanaging the ever-loving hell out of me, and the way his arrogance seems to carry him through life.

Never mind. I remember exactly where I stand with him.

So why the fuck did I agree to be his fake girlfriend for a year?

“Ugh!” I turn around, grabbing my vintage Journey T-shirt, underwear, and pair of shorts from my bag before opening my towel to change. As soon as I begin to drop it, the bathroom door swings open again.

“Did you?—”

“ Fitz! ” I screech, quickly wrapping the towel back around me. I spin to face him, thanking the universe that I was at least turned away from him, and see his jaw hanging open. “What?!”

“Sorry. I thought I heard something.” My eyes pop as he stares at me hungrily.

“I was airing out my frustrations.” His brows furrow and he doesn’t say anything in response. “Is it safer if I get myself dressed in the living room?”

“Probably so.”

“Fantastic.” I snatch my clothes from the bed and storm into the living room, slamming his bedroom door shut behind me.

This was a horrible idea.