Chapter 14
Molly
I startle when there’s a knock at the bedroom door fifteen minutes later.
Mostly because I’m leaning against it, my forehead is pressed up against the smooth wood.
My suitcase is still fully packed. My backpack is sitting on the bed, still zipped.
And my nervous system is trying to reboot after a shutdown due to complete overwhelm.
It shouldn’t be such a big deal—this living space mix-up. I’ve stayed here once with Collin, and it’s fine.
So fine, in fact, that I’ve been standing here for several minutes, trying to work up the courage to go out and face Collin. My fake boyfriend.
And my very real new roommate.
It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.
Somehow, though, it doesn’t feel fine. (I also need to expand my vocabulary beyond the use of the word fine.)
After Pat made his great pronouncement and then grand exit, Collin and I simply stared at each other, wearing the same stunned expression.
Because … EXCUSE ME?
Then, Collin bolted out the door after his brother, leaving me alone with so many questions. I closed myself in the bedroom I slept in the other night, stunned and processing. I heard Collin come back, rummaging around the loft, but I’ve been too cowardly to face him.
“Molly?” Collin’s voice is hesitant on the other side of the door. “Do you want to come out and talk?”
No. Yes.
I sigh and open the door. Collin stands on the other side, his hands in his pockets. I notice for the first time what I somehow missed earlier.
“You shaved?”
The short beard I touched just last night is gone, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of our conversation.
Back when they were first talking and Harper talked to Chase about her sensory issues, my brother shaved for her.
It was one of those huge tiny romantic gestures—the kind I’ve always longed for.
Is this a huge tiny romantic gesture for me?
“I did. Hope that’s okay?”
He looks younger. If possible, hotter. The angles of that sharp jawline are now fully on display. His blue eyes seem to burn brighter.
I try not to stare, but it’s hard. His jawline is sonnet-worthy. Not that I could write one. But someone should.
“It’s your choice, not mine,” I say finally, instead of saying what I really think, which is, You look hot and if you didn’t have the beard the other day, I absolutely would have recognized you.
I wonder suddenly what would have happened if I had recognized Collin that day. Would I still have asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend? Would we still be in this current situation?
Probably not.
I realize only when Collin’s jaw tightens how dismissive my words were. Without giving myself time to second guess, I reach out and take his hand.
“I only meant that I don’t think my title as fake girlfriend means I get to tell you what to do with your facial hair. But,” I add, my throat suddenly feeling tight with nerves, “I do like it.”
He offers me a lopsided smile as he squeezes my hand. “Good. If you like it, then the beard is history. It was itchy anyway. And for the record, as I told you last night, I welcome your opinions.”
“Noted.” We stand there, smiling at each other for a few long seconds until I realize I’m still holding his hand while standing in the doorway of my—his?—bedroom. I let go.
“I’m sorry about the apartment confusion,” I say. “Tank told me—”
“Please don’t apologize. This was on me. I didn’t talk with my dad beforehand and just assumed his place would be open. I guess I figured you’d be staying in the loft where you were with Harper and Chase.”
“It’s being rented out right now,” I explain. “Every other place he has is. Which is why I’m here.”
“Clearly, I should have checked with my dad first instead of assuming. Want to come sit?”
He points to the kitchen island, where I can see a cutting board covered with cheese, crackers, and some other snacky items. Suddenly, I’m starving.
As I sit down, Collin hands me a little plate. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just put some things together.”
“I guess we don’t know much about each other, do we?”
“Not yet,” he says, and the way his eyes light up makes it seem like this is a challenge he’s looking forward to.
“Well, first of all, I don’t like pickles. They’re Satan’s cucumbers.”
Collin clears his throat, lips quirking up. “You don’t say.” He grabs a bowl of tiny pickles I didn’t notice and shoves it down the counter, leaning forward so his body hides them from my line of sight.
I laugh. “Otherwise, I’m not very picky. About food or most things.”
“How do you feel about roommates you barely know?” he asks, taking the stool next to mine.
Before answering, I bite into a cracker with a slice of cheese. The cheese has the slightest hint of smokiness and only makes my hunger roar to life. I reach for another.
“It seems a little backwards that I’m concerned about the living situation when we already agreed to pretend we’re in a relationship,” I say.
“Maybe,” Collin says slowly. “But being concerned is valid. I mean, I’ve never lived with a girlfriend, so this is new territory for me.”
I do my best not to show my surprise. I guess I just assumed he would have since he’s older. And, from the sound of it, has had more serious relationships than the few short-lived ones I’ve had.
“I’ve also never lived with a boyfriend,” I tell him. “Basically, I went from college dorms and apartments to home.”
This confession only highlights how young and inexperienced I feel. Collin is probably five to seven years older than I am. Not a huge gap, but he’s definitely had more time to live an adult life, where I still feel like a kid in many ways, just getting started on the adult portion of my life.
“This place has two bedrooms, so it’s not like we’re really living together living together,” I add quickly. “Not, you know, sharing a room or … a bed.”
It’s stupid that I’m blushing at the mention of bed-sharing. But again, Collin and I barely know each other. I definitely didn’t think we’d be talking about this.
His mouth curls up into a smile, which is even sexier now that it’s not hidden by facial hair. “No bed sharing. Got it.”
My face flames hotter. “I can find somewhere else to stay,” I offer quickly, even though I’m not entirely sure this is true.
There are some hotels on the newer side of town closer to the highway.
I have no idea how much they cost, but I could probably afford it until my next payment comes in a few weeks.
“No.” Collin’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument. “If anyone goes, it will be me.”
“No way. I’m not kicking you out. This is your family’s place. You have more right to it than I do.” I pause. “But just out of curiosity—don’t you actually live in Austin?”
“Normally, yes. I figured since we’re doing this whole thing, I should be here.” Collin blows out a breath and crunches on a cracker. “Also, I’ve been staying here a lot lately and just hadn’t brought a lot of my stuff. It’s nice to be away from there with the gym and … everything.”
I know everything means his ex. Right before I left Austin, I finally searched up Liza’s videos and, of course, watched them. At double speed and while making snarky mental comments the whole time.
Collin’s ex is a piece of work.
Definitely gorgeous—the kind of woman who understands contouring and has eyelash extensions and probably hair extensions too. But she came across as whiny and narcissistic to me.
From the comments, I’m not the only one who picked up on that.
But there were a fair number who took her side.
Even though she didn’t name Collin, the clues she gave in her videos made it pretty easy for commenters: a famous family, former pro athlete, owns a gym in Austin—there can’t be more than one guy who fits the bill.
Collin doesn’t have a public account, but his name was mentioned over and over in her comments and his gym, which does have an account, was tagged.
When I looked at the gym’s public profiles, the comments were flooded with hate. Whoever handles their social media isn’t handling it very well. These should be deleted and the accounts blocked. Immediately.
I can see why potential buyers are becoming hesitant.
But hopefully, that will change soon. Maybe Collin will also let me help manage the gym’s profile, at least until he sells.
“Are you really okay sharing this place with me?” Collin asks, searching my face. “I’ll take my dad’s bedroom unless you want to switch. But if you don’t feel comfortable—”
“Please stay.”
I swallow, hoping he hears the sincerity in my voice but doesn’t pick up on the conflict I feel.
Because yeah—I am okay sharing the loft with him. I feel safer and more secure knowing I won’t be alone. I hate living alone, to be honest. I had roommates all through college, and whenever they were away for weekends or stayed with their boyfriends, I got creeped out.
The big but comes in the form of how living with Collin might impact my feelings for him.
Though … maybe he’s a terrible roommate. Loud in the mornings or late at night. He could be the kind of person who leaves clothes all over the place and never washes dishes.
Honestly, that description fits me more than I think it does Collin. I can tell just from his truck that he’s a lot neater than I am. I’m not a slob, but I tend to not pick up after myself, as my mother likes to say.
If anything, living together might make Collin like me less.
“Are you sure?” he asks once more.
I appreciate the concern in his voice, and I have no doubt Collin would pick up the box and bag still by the door and immediately leave if I said no.
“Yes. And I’m fine in the guest room. It’s perfect.”
“Okay, then—next order of business.” Collin pulls out a legal pad seemingly out of nowhere. His tone is suddenly serious. Only the glint in his blue eyes gives a hint of amusement. “Time to set down some rules and expectations for this fake relationship, Molly-girl.”