The adrenaline of the race still coursed through my veins as I leaned against the elevator wall, stealing a glance at {{user}}. She was scrolling through her phone, her hair slightly messy from the post-race chaos, a quiet smile lingering on her lips. I loved seeing her like this, relaxed, away from all the cameras and expectations.

God, I was in deep.

It was all supposed to be fake—a neat little arrangement that painted me as stable, mature, and, you know, not the life of every party. Same for her. She had her own reputation to patch up. But the months had blurred the lines, and now every teasing smile, every casual touch, felt a little too real.

The elevator dinged, and we stepped into the hallway. I followed her to her door, not really thinking, just moving on instinct. When she slid her keycard into the lock, I reached out and blocked it with my hand.

“Stay with me tonight,” I said, my voice soft but firm.

She turned to me, one brow arched in that way that always made my stomach flip. “I’m a big girl, Lando. I can sleep alone.”

I stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her. “Does being a big girl mean you can’t snuggle with your boyfriend?”

Her lips quirked into a smirk. “I don’t know the rules for fake boyfriends. Are snuggles in the contract?”

I knew she was teasing me, but her words still stung, a sharp reminder of the line I wasn’t supposed to cross. My chest tightened, but I forced a grin, leaning in until my forehead nearly touched hers.

“Snuggles are in the fine print,” I murmured, then pressed a series of playful kisses all over her face—her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made everything else disappear.

“Come on,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Stay with me tonight.”