Dance With Secret

3

Chapter Three - You Don’t Get to Pull Up Like That

Ava POV

I’m straight-up fuming as I bounce from the office. I should’ve told Ethan to kick rocks, but then I’d be out here unemployed, scrolling LinkedIn for scraps. If I’d known this fake-date mess was a two-night deal and sharing a hotel room, I would’ve risked it and said hell no. It’s gonna be awkward as f**k, and I’m not about that life.

The walk to my apartment’s just what I need to clear my head. Fresh air’s callin’ my name. I could grab an Uber, but it’s only ten minutes, and my car’s chillin’ in the shop, so I’m hoofin’ it. All I want is to slide into my PJs, order a pizza, and drown my stress in a fat glass of Pinot Grigio.

I gotta mentally prepare for this weekend, but real talk, I have no clue how. I sigh, feelin’ like I’m in a bad rom-com. This ain’t my fault—Ethan’s the jackass who thinks the universe spins around him. Spoiler: I’m not joining his orbit. We’re boss and assistant, and I’m drawing hard boundaries, no cap.

I didn’t even ask where this damn wedding’s at. Should’ve grilled him for deets. He better spill tomorrow. Also, shopping with him? Hard pass. I’d rather watch paint dry than try on dresses for his dumb plan. I’d be the worst rich girl—retail’s not my vibe. I pop in my AirPods, let my “chill vibes” playlist take over, and hum along, escapin’ to a mental vacay instead of rehashing Ethan’s nonsense.

I hit my apartment in no time, dump my bag, and head to my room to transform. PJs on, hair down, makeup off—boom, I’m a new woman. I order my usual pizza with mozzarella sticks, pour a generous glass of wine (screw the “small glass” rule after today), and cozy up on my couch with a blanket. Blinds closed, vibe set, I’m not leaving this spot tonight.

I flip on some reality TV while waiting for my food. I’m starvin’—all I had today was a venti latte, which, like, doesn’t count as lunch. The pizza joint’s closed, and their deliveries are always on point, so it shouldn’t take long. I could’ve swung by on my walk, but I was too over it.

Twenty minutes later, my intercom buzzes. I grab cash from my purse, plus a tip for my regular delivery guy. I wait by the door, ready to vibe.

“Hey, Ava, what’s good?” Noah greets, all smiles.

“Hey, Noah! How’s your night going?” I say, matching his energy.

“Busy as hell, so it’s flying by. Are you holding up after work?” he asks.

“Glad it’s done, fam,” I laugh, handing him the cash.

He passes me my food, we dap it up with a “later,” and I lock the door. I’m ready to smash this pizza, but I barely get a bite in before someone’s knockin’ at my door. Who tf is that? I ain’t expecting nobody my girls always text first.

I peep through the peephole, and my stomach drops. Ethan. What’s he doing here? How’s he got my address? Okay, yeah, it’s probably in my employee file, but that’s shady to look up. I take a deep breath and crack the door, keepin’ it half-closed.

“Ethan, why you pullin’ up at my crib like you’re invited?” I say, maskin’ my annoyance.

He’s rockin’ jeans and a hoodie wild, ‘cause I’m used to his suit-and-tie flex. Gotta admit, he’s lookin’ kinda fine, but that’s irrelevant. I’m not here for it. He eyes me up and down, smirks, pushes the door open, and struts in like he owns my lease. I roll my eyes, shut the door, and trail him to my living room.

“Why are you eating this trash?” he says, pointing at my pizza like it’s a crime.

“Excuse me? Pizza’s a national treasure. What do you want, Ethan?” I snap, crossin’ my arms.

He turns, shaking his head like he’s my nutritionist. “You could make your own. This processed stuff’s garbage. You gotta take better care of yourself, Ava.”

“My diet’s none of your business, fam. I eat clean most days, but I treat myself once a week. Again, why are you here?” I say, patience hangin’ by a thread.

I’m tryna keep it cool, ‘cause even outside work, he’d probably fire me for poppin’ off. Dude’s got no chill.

“I was bored,” he says, all casual. “Wanted to swing by and talk about wedding deets. We gotta be on the same page.”

“This couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow?” I sigh, rubbing my temples.

“No, I’m someone who likes to ‘do it now.’” "When an issue arises, I take care of it," he proclaims, as if he's a hero from an action movie.

"Okay, we can chat, but I'm having my dinner while we do," I state, placing my hands on my hips.

“Or I could toss that pizza in the bin and whip you up something nutritious,” he jokes, grinning like he’s adorable.

"You mess with my pizza, I’m hitting you where it stings." My life isn’t your amusement, Ethan. "You’re my boss, not my father or my boyfriend,” I snap, shooting daggers.

I’m typically relaxed, but Ethan is triggering me tonight. He clutches the arm of my sofa, teeth clenched, eyes shimmering ominously like a tempest is forming. "Perhaps you wouldn't be so fiery if you belonged to me," he snarls, gazing at me as if I'm his prey and he's a lion poised to leap.

My heart is racing, and I'm trembling. What on earth is this? I try to speak, but no sounds emerge, as if my mind is set to airplane mode.

Ethan grins slyly, inclining closer. "At a loss for words, aren't you?"

I brush it off, trying to act nonchalant. "Nah, just really irritated."

He shrugs, as if he didn’t just unleash a bombshell. "Of course, you will move past it." "Let's discuss weddings."

He’s just glossing over that wild moment? Probably is for the best—I don’t wanna unpack whatever that was.

“Aight, spill everything I need to know,” I say, faking a smile.

Playing his fake girlfriend c

an’t be that hard, right? Just memorize a few deets and call it a day.