Chapter 8
JAMES
Finals week is approaching, and the DPO house has turned into a chaotic mess of study groups, energy drinks, and stress-induced meltdowns. I've taken over the dining room table with my laptop and a stack of networking textbooks, trying to tune out the noise around me.
"Hunter! Just the man I need!"
Gavin is barreling toward me with a desperate expression. He slides a calculus textbook across the table.
"Please tell me you understand derivatives. I've been staring at these problems for an hour, and my brain is turning to soup."
"I'm a computer science major, not a math tutor,"I say without thinking, but I'm already pushing my stuff to the side and looking over his problems.
This has been happening all week. Ever since Drew declared that "brothers help brothers," everyone's been pairing off based on academic strengths. It's not the worst system. I have to admit it's kind of working.
"You're a lifesaver," Gavin says when I explain the concept he's been missing. "No wonder Caleb's into you. Smart is sexy."
My swallow of Red Bull chokes me, and I sputter. "We're not—I mean, we're just—"
"Hanging out. Getting to know each other. Whatever you want to call it." Gavin winks. "Your secret's safe with me."
Except it's no longer a secret. For the past week, Caleb and I have been implementing our fake relationship plan, carefully following the schedule we created.
Studying together in the common areas. Sitting next to each other at meals.
Small, careful moments that hint we're getting close without making it obvious.
The guys have noticed. Of course, they have. The nosy fuckers. But so far, the reaction has been surprisingly positive, primarily knowing looks and the occasional comment about how we "finally stopped fighting long enough to see what was right in front of us."
Rex even got smacked up the back of his head when his comment about "Fighting or fucking" made the room go quiet. It really was a step too far.
Speaking of Caleb, he appears in the dining room doorway, looking more rumpled than usual. His dark hair is sticking up on one side like he's been running his hand through it, and his eyes have shadows underneath them. Finals are hitting everyone hard.
Our eyes meet, and he throws me a slight nod before heading to the coffee machine. According to our spreadsheet, we're in the "meaningful glances across the room" stage of our evolution from friendship to something more. So far, it's been easy enough to maintain the charade.
Except sometimes, like now, when he reaches up to grab a mug from the cabinet and his shirt rides up to reveal a strip of skin above his waistband, I find myself staring for reasons that have nothing to do with our plan.
"Earth to James," Gavin waves a hand in front of my face. "Man, you've got it bad."
I force my attention back to the calculus problem. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh-huh." Gavin gathers his books with a knowing grin. "Thanks for the help. I'll let you get back to your subtle pining."
Before I can protest, Drew enters the dining room with his usual enthusiasm, Emily at his side. They're both wearing matching red and green scarves, which should be nauseating but somehow works for them.
"Attention, brothers!" he announces. "Quick break from the study stress. Emily has news about tomorrow night's event."
Several groans echo through the room.
Drew holds up his hands. "I know, I know. But this one's going to be worth it. Promise."
Emily steps forward with a bright smile. "The university is hosting a holiday hayride tomorrow night! Hot cider, Christmas lights, the whole experience. And," she adds with a meaningful glance at Drew, "the Gamma Phi Delta sorority will be joining us."
The single brothers immediately sit up straighter.
"Holiday hayride?" Gavin's eyes light up. "Hell yes. Hay, hot chocolate, cuddle-weather, this is perfect."
"Cuddle-weather," Rex repeats flatly, but he's grinning. "I'm in."
Mark leans forward. "Are there actually going to be girls there or is this another 'community building' thing?"
"Actual girls," Emily confirms, and several brothers exchange looks.
"Suddenly I'm very interested in holiday traditions," someone mutters from the back.
"It's a great chance to relax before finals kick in," Drew continues. "Plus, the hayride ends at the Holiday market downtown. Good food, live music, perfect way to take a break from studying."
"Is this mandatory too?" Rex asks.
Drew's smile tightens slightly. "I wouldn't want to force anyone to have fun, Rex. But yes, I'd like everyone to make an effort to attend."
My eyes find Caleb across the room. He's leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, looking as thrilled about the hayride as I feel. According to our plan, this is exactly the kind of event where we should ramp up our public displays of ‘connection’.
"The hayride starts at seven," Emily continues. "Meet at the quad. Don't be late or we'll leave without you!"
As the group goes back to their studies, Caleb makes his way over to my table, sliding into the chair Gavin vacated.
"Hayride?" he says quietly, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Apparently." Closing my textbook, I accept that I won't get any more studying done right now. "At least it's progress toward our goal."
"How so?"
"Drew organizing a co-ed event means he's less focused on fraternal bonding. The plan is working."
Caleb takes a sip of his coffee, his expression thoughtful. "I guess. But now we have to go on a hayride."
"Could be worse." My shoulders go tight, back stiffening. "Could be trust falls or something."
Because nothing says "brotherhood" like forcing the foster kid to fall backward and hope someone gives enough of a shit to catch him.
Been there, done that, have the emotional scars.
At least hayrides only require sitting next to people, not literally putting your physical safety in their hands and praying they don't let go.
A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "Fair point. Though I wouldn't trust half these guys to catch a cold, let alone my body weight."
"You aren't exactly massive." The thought barely forms before it's out of my mouth. "I'm pretty sure even Emily could catch you."
His eyes narrow. "Are you calling me small, Hunter?"
"Compact." His reaction is entirely too satisfying. "Efficient. Travel-sized."
"I'm five-eleven, that's average height."
"Sure, if we're measuring in hobbit units."
He looks like he can't decide if he's pissed off or thinks it's funny. His eyes narrow, lips pressing together like he's fighting it—then the bastard actually smiles. "Five-eleven is perfectly respectable. We can't all be gangly giants like you."
"Six-two is not giant territory," I argue. "It's just tall enough that airplane seats are instruments of torture."
"Poor you," he says with mock sympathy. "The real struggle of barely fitting through doorways."
"Better than needing a stepladder to reach the top shelf.” I'm trying not to think about just how much I enjoy sparring with Caleb.
"I do not—" he begins, then stops himself when he sees Drew watching us with a pleased expression. In a smoother voice, he adds, "I guess I'll have to keep you around to reach the high things."
The casual implication of a future together sends an unexpected warmth through me. For a moment, I forget this is all a pretense.
"I guess you will," my voice comes out lower than I planned. It sounds almost like I'm trying to be sexy… with Caleb.
Something shifts in his eyes, a brief flicker of... something... before he masks it with his usual composure.
"So," he says, clearing his throat. "Tomorrow at seven. Hayride."
"I'll meet you in the hallway at 6:45. We should probably arrive together."
He nods, standing up. "Sounds good. I should get back to studying. Law precedents wait for no man."
"Good luck,"
He pauses, looking almost surprised by the sincere wish. "You too, Hunter."
As he walks away, I force myself not to watch him go. Or at least, not to get caught watching him go. Because the truth is, Caleb Huntington in jeans is a sight I'm finding increasingly difficult to ignore.
This is a problem. A significant one. Because fake dating only works if both parties remember it's fake.
And I'm starting to forget.
Oh crap.