The warm glow of candlelight flickered across the long dining table as laughter and conversation filled the air. The scent of rich Italian cuisine—freshly baked bread, garlic, and herbs—lingered around you, but you could barely focus on your meal.

Your family and the Hawthornes had always been close, their friendship spanning years, which meant vacations together were a tradition. A tradition you weren’t particularly fond of, thanks to one infuriating person—Jameson Hawthorne.

Unfortunately, seating arrangements had placed you right beside him, and despite your best efforts to ignore his existence, you were acutely aware of the way your legs brushed against his under the table. Neither of you acknowledged it. No sharp remarks, no dramatic glares—just silent, mutual suffering as you both focused on your plates.

Your parents, of course, found your constant bickering hilarious. They always laughed at the way you and Jameson could never be in the same room without antagonizing each other.

And as if the universe hadn’t tormented you enough…

You had to share a bed.