Page 33 of Fifth Avenue Flirt

The doorman puts down the phone, and at the same time, the elevator doors open and Ben appears. He looks like he just got out of bed. His hair is sticking up on top of his head and he’s wearing navy joggers and a white t-shirt. He’s a walking billboard for Calvin Klein. Goddamn, he’s pretty.

“Avril!” he says, his gaze sweeping up and down my body.

I’m in leggings and an oversized Taylor Swift tee, my hair piled on top of my head like I’m spending the day in bed with Poppy, binge-watching our favorite shows. I’ve deliberately dressed this way. It’s not like I want him to find me attractive, right? In fact, the opposite is true. I want him to see that there’s no messiness between us. Things are strictly platonic. I want to give off full-on sister vibes.

But now, looking at him, looking at me, I wish I’d maybe put on some lip gloss and run a brush through my hair.

“You look beautiful, Avril,” he says, taking the handle of my suitcase.

“I do not,” I say with a scowl. I look like an abandoned dog toy. And it’s deliberate. I want him to know it’s deliberate. He should think I always look like this and that he couldn’t possibly ever find me attractive. I know the deal is that I have to resist his over-the-top charm, but I figure he won’t try so hard if he’s not actually attracted to me.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take that up, sir?” the doorman asks.

Ben smiles at the man. “Thanks. I’ve got it.”

“It’s on wheels,” I say. “There’s nothing to get.”

Ben chuckles but doesn’t say anything. “So we’re hanging out all week,” he says.

“Right.”

“What do you normally do at the weekend?” he asks, as we ride up in the elevator.

I shrug. “Depends if I’m working or hanging out with Poppy. Worth and his friends have brunch most Sundays, so I often go, but Saturdays are more fluid.”

“Great. So you don’t mind coming to the gym with me?”

“The gym?” The idea of having this insanely attractive man watching me sweat gives me nausea. “I haven’t brought any gym clothes. But you go. I can stay home and read. Unpack. Hang.”

Ben chuckles as the doors to the elevators ping open at his floor. “Don’t worry, I thought you might not have brought any, so I had some delivered. I’ve put them in your bedroom.”

“You bought me gym clothes? That’s like the opposite of charming. You’re saying you think I need to go to the gym?” I know that’s not what he’s saying, but I can taunt him, can’t I?

“You know that’s not what I’m saying,” he says, still smiling at me. “Or go as you are. I don’t mind.”

“What happens if I don’t want to go to the gym?”

“You don’t have any other plans though. Saturdays are fluid, right?”

“Right. But…”

“Give it a shot. Worst case, they have a great smoothie bar. You can hang out there.”

“Do they have donuts?”

He doesn’t answer, he just smiles at me.

I realize I’m about to step into his foyer, and my stomach swoops at the memory of being here last time. Of walking out in heels and his shirt. I never dreamed I’d be back here under these circumstances. Or ever.

What am I doing here? I can’t believe I talked myself into thinking this was a good idea. There’s no legal agreement that says Ben has to help me at the end of this week. I could spend the week with him and he could still turn around and tell me that he’s not going to play ball and that he’s just been torturing me all along. I should have just accepted that he’s not going to be useful. Going through this is just so humiliating.

“You okay?” he asks as he holds the elevator doors, waiting for me to step out.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“It’s going to be fine,” he says. “I’m not quite sure how we got here, but here we are. I’m a big believer in going where life takes you. And this is where it’s taken us both for the next week.”

Is he having the same kind of doubts that I’m having? Is he thinking the same things?