The plus one problem

1

There are a few things in life I know for sure.
1. Brunch is overrated unless there's unlimited mimosas.
2. Weston Hale was put on this earth to drive me insane.
3. Running into my ex-boyfriend's girlfriend while fake dating said menace is the definition of bad luck.

And yet, here I am. Living my own personal nightmare.

Ava is gone now, but her words still cling to me.

"I always thought you and Ethan would end up together."

I should be over it.

Should be.

But then I see him.

Ethan Montgomery, in all his golden-boy, I-was-the-one-that-got-away glory, standing at the hostess stand like the universe is personally taunting me.

I grab Wes' wrist, probably leaving bruises. "We're leaving. Right now."

Wes looks entirely too entertained. "Why?"

I shoot him a glare. "Because Ethan just walked in."

He hums, annoyingly calm. "So?"

"So?" I whisper-hiss. "I do not need my ex seeing me right now."

Wes raises a brow. "Because?"

I grit my teeth. "Because I'm supposed to be winning the breakup."

He grins. "I see."

"What?"

"You're embarrassed."

I scowl. "I am not."

"You are," he says, enjoying this way too much. "You still care what he thinks."

I open my mouth to argue, but before I can, Ethan sees me.

And then—because the universe wants me to suffer—he starts walking over.

I panic. Hard.

"Wes," I whisper. "Do something."

He smirks. "Anything?"

"Yes. Anything."

And that's how I end up with Weston Hale's lips on mine.

2

Time stops.

Or at least, it feels like it does.

Because one second, I'm panicking, and the next?

Weston is kissing me.

And the worst part?

I kiss him back.

I don't mean to. It's pure instinct. A reaction to the way his mouth moves against mine—confident, slow, devastatingly good.

His hand cups my face, fingers grazing my jaw, tilting my head just enough to deepen the kiss. And suddenly, I forget where we are.

Forget why we're even doing this.

Because for a split second, I swear—**I swear—**it feels real.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"There," he murmurs, voice low. "That should do it."

I blink. My brain short-circuits.

What?

What just happened?

Oh. Right. Ethan.

I tear my gaze away from Wes and turn, still dazed.