Sparks and Sarcasm

Chapter 3: The Shift

Three weeks into their fake-dating charade, Ivy Bullet was starting to question her life choices. The deal with Alec Madden—five grand to play his girlfriend for a month—had seemed simple enough at first. Show up, bicker, cash the check. But as she stood in the middle of a dusty field at dusk, surrounded by roaring bonfires and rowdy bikers, she realized “simple” was not in Alec’s vocabulary. The annual Iron Wolves Bonfire Bash was in full swing, a chaotic mix of revving engines, heavy metal blasting from portable speakers, and leather-clad revelers passing around beers like they were auditioning for a post-apocalyptic movie.

Ivy adjusted her taupe skirt, the hem flirting dangerously with her thighs, and tugged at her cream halter top, its strings digging into her back just enough to keep her grounded. No underwear, as always—sensory hell was not on tonight’s menu. Her brown bob was tucked behind her ears, and her grey eyes scanned the crowd, hyper-alert. The flickering bonfires cast shadows that danced across her vision, and the cacophony of laughter, music, and engines was a sensory tightrope. She clutched a soda can, the cold metal a lifeline, and muttered to herself, “This is fine. I’m fine. Five grand. I can do this.”

“Talking to yourself again, feral cat?” Alec’s voice, warm and teasing, cut through her thoughts. He appeared at her side, all six-foot-three of him radiating golden retriever energy. His black hair was mussed from the wind, his brown eyes glinting with mischief in the firelight. His leather jacket hung open over a fitted grey tee, and his jeans were scuffed from a day spent tinkering with his Harley. He held a beer bottle loosely in one hand, his other arm already reaching to sling around her shoulders.

Ivy sidestepped, dodging his touch with a glare. “Personal space, labradoodle. And stop calling me that. I’m not a pet.”

Alec grinned, undeterred, and leaned closer, his cedar-and-leather scent invading her space. “Not a pet, huh? Could’ve fooled me with how you hiss and scratch. Bet I could make you purr, though.”

She rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite herself. “Keep dreaming, Madden. The only thing you’re making me do is regret this deal.”

He laughed, that rich, infuriating sound that made her stomach flip in ways she refused to analyze. “Admit it, you’re having fun. Look at this!” He gestured to the chaos around them—bikers doing wheelies, a group playing beer pong on a makeshift table, a couple making out against a pickup truck. “It’s like a circus, and we’re the main act.”

“More like a trainwreck, and I’m the unwilling passenger,” Ivy muttered, but her lips twitched. Alec’s enthusiasm was annoying, but it was also… infectious. She hated that.

They’d been at this for three weeks now, and their routine was down to a science: show up at biker hangouts, bicker like an old married couple, and sell the lie that they were head-over-heels. Alec’s crew bought it, mostly because their arguments were so fiery they seemed real. Jake, the bearded matchmaker hellbent on setting Alec up with Sarah, was still skeptical, but even he’d started to ease off. Tonight, though, was their biggest test yet. The bonfire bash was the crew’s biggest event, and everyone was watching.

“C’mon, let’s mingle,” Alec said, nudging her toward a cluster of bikers near a roaring fire. His hand brushed her lower back, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through her. She swatted his hand away, ignoring the way her skin tingled.

“Don’t push your luck,” she warned, but she followed, her soda can a shield against the chaos. The group greeted Alec with fist bumps and backslaps, their eyes sliding to Ivy with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She stood straighter, her sarcasm locked and loaded.

“Yo, Alec, your girl’s still sticking around?” a biker with a shaved head and a skull tattoo asked, grinning. “Thought she’d have ditched you by now.”

Ivy smirked before Alec could respond. “I’m only here for the free food and his money. He’s on thin ice.”

The group laughed, and Alec clutched his chest, mock-wounded. “Ouch, babe. You wound me.”

“Keep calling me babe, and I’ll do more than wound you,” she shot back, but her tone was lighter now, the banter familiar. The crew ate it up, and Alec’s arm found her shoulders again. This time, she didn’t shrug it off immediately, though she told herself it was for the act.

The night wore on, and Ivy navigated the chaos as best she could. She stuck close to Alec, his presence a buffer against the sensory overload. He seemed to sense when she was fraying—when the music got too loud or the crowd too close—and would steer her to a quieter spot, tossing out a joke to cover her retreat. It was… thoughtful, in a way that made her uneasy. Alec Madden was supposed to be a hot-headed, innuendo-slinging nuisance, not someone who noticed her limits.

But then Sarah showed up.

Ivy was sipping her soda, half-listening to Alec argue with Jake about engine mods, when a blonde in a tight red tank top and leather pants sauntered over. Sarah was everything Ivy wasn’t: tall, curvy, confident in a way that screamed “I know I’m hot.” Her blue eyes locked on Alec, and she smiled, all teeth and intent.

“Alec, baby,” Sarah purred, ignoring Ivy completely. “You’ve been dodging me. Jake says you’re with someone, but I don’t buy it.” She stepped closer, her hand landing on Alec’s chest, fingers splaying over his shirt.

Ivy froze, her soda can denting under her grip. The word “weirdo” echoed in her mind, a ghost from childhood taunts, from teachers who didn’t get her, from a world that always felt too loud. Sarah’s dismissal hit the same nerve, raw and exposed. She was ready to bolt, her fight-or-flight instinct screaming *flight*, when Alec’s voice cut through.

“Her name’s Ivy,” he said, stepping back from Sarah’s touch, his tone cold in a way Ivy hadn’t heard before. “And yeah, I’m with her. She’s ten times the woman you’ll ever be.”

The group went quiet, the crackle of the bonfire suddenly loud. Sarah’s smile faltered, her eyes flicking to Ivy with a mix of surprise and disdain. “Her? The short chick with the attitude?”

Ivy’s heart pounded, her fingers twitching. She wanted to snap back, to unleash the sarcasm she’d honed like a blade, but her throat was tight, her brain stuck on *weirdo, weirdo, weirdo*. Alec’s hand found hers, his grip firm but not suffocating, and he tugged her away from the group without another word.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s ditch this.”

They ended up at the edge of the field, where the bonfires’ glow faded into starlight and the noise was a distant hum. A wooden fence separated the party from a quiet stretch of road, and Alec leaned against it, letting go of Ivy’s hand. She crossed her arms, her soda can abandoned somewhere in the grass, and stared at the ground, her bob falling into her face.

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, her voice small but sharp. “You didn’t have to… say all that.”

Alec shrugged, his leather jacket creaking as he shifted. “Because it’s true. Sarah’s all flash, no substance. You’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “You’re real. Literal, sarcastic, pain in my ass. But I like it.”

Ivy snorted, but her chest warmed, a dangerous feeling she didn’t want to name. “You’re just saying that because you need me for your stupid fake girlfriend act.”

He turned to face her, his brown eyes serious in the dim light. “Ivy, I’m not that good an actor. I mean it. You’re not a weirdo. You’re… you.”

She swallowed, her throat tight for a different reason now. The air between them felt charged, like the moment before a storm. She wanted to deflect, to fire back with sarcasm, but her brain was too busy replaying his words. *Ten times the woman you’ll ever be.* No one had ever stood up for her like that, not without expecting something in return.

“You’re still annoying,” she muttered, but her lips curved into a small, reluctant smile.

Alec grinned, the tension breaking. “And you’re still a brat. Guess we’re stuck with each other.”

They stood there, the stars above them and the party behind, and for the first time, Ivy didn’t feel like she was playing a role. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but as Alec nudged her shoulder, his warmth seeping through her, she decided she didn’t hate it.

“Let’s head back,” he said, jerking his head toward the bonfires. “Unless you wanna make out under the stars first.”

She shoved him, laughing despite herself. “In your dreams, labradoodle.”

But as they walked back, her hand brushing his, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her dreams were starting to look a little different, too.