17. Posey
Posey
As soon as the door closes on Brent, Destiny starts laughing. I pray to god Brent hustled his ass out of here after they gave him such a hard time.
“You can’t be a little bit supportive of my fake relationship?” I say with a huff.
“Are you trapped in a romantic comedy? Are we being pranked? Are there cameras hidden in here?” Destiny checks our plastic plants and peers behind picture frames.
“I had heard Valentina wasn’t very nice, but there is no way you need to be involved in this,” Nadiya says.
“It’ll be fine. The sex is great. He’s easy on the eyes. What’s the worst that can happen?” I grab a cup from the cupboard and get myself a glass of water.
“STDs, pregnancy, heartbreak,” Nadiya rattles off. “Those are just off the top of my head.”
“We pinky swore to no feelings,” I say. “We’re hanging out for a couple weeks until Val catches on that he’s not coming back.”
“Oh,” Destiny says. “Well, if you pinky swore on it, it must be true.”
I hurl a dishrag at her, and it makes a satisfying thwack when it hits her back.
“I don’t understand what you get out of this,” Nadiya says. “You can get your own coffee, and I know you can get your own orgasms too.”
Valid question. Those are nice perks, and if I hadn’t run into Val at the spa, I might have backed out of our deal. His comments about trying to restore my faith in boyfriends made me wary. “He needs help, and I decided I wanted to give it.”
“Isn’t it a little concerning he’s so sure he can’t resist her without you as backup?” Nadiya digs in.
“Any habit is hard to break.” I put my glass in the dishwasher. “I’m here to break his Val addiction.”
“Why?” Destiny purses her lips.
While Nadiya is good at picking away at all the things I should be thinking about, Destiny always drives into the middle of my muddled thoughts. It’s annoying and also why I love her.
“She treats him like a license to print money, and I hate that she’s using him like that. He’s actually a really nice guy.”
“Oh,” Destiny says, realization dawning on her face. “That makes a lot more sense. You’ve got that protective thing from being so close to the royals. Val is the leech, and you’re the salt.” She waves me off and heads for her room. “Problem solved.”
Once Destiny is gone, Nadiya comes to the island and leans across it. “Is that really all this is? You being the salt? Because I know how long you’ve been staring longingly at his photos.”
“You should see him naked in real life.” I fan myself.
“You’re really guarded with guys,” Nadiya says. “And this doesn’t seem like a situation you’d normally involve yourself in. Maybe over the weekend you decided you like him? I just—there’s a chance he could end up back with Val—and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“He’s not going back to her,” I say with conviction. “And no one is getting hurt. We both understand the rules.”
Minutes before nine, while I’m waiting outside my lecture hall, the crowd parts, and Brent Faulkner delivers me a latte with an exaggerated flourish.
“Did you want me to find somewhere in here to cash in on the other half of your payment?” he whispers in my ear.
“Oh, Brent. You should never ask about something you’re not prepared to deliver.” I grab his hand and drag it toward the edge of my skirt.
He steps back like I’ve lit him on fire, and I laugh.
“You promised me,” I say in a voice loud enough to turn heads, “lattes and—”
Before I can get the next word out, Brent drags me into his arms and kisses me.
His tongue dips in, and I follow his lead.
Class has become the last thing on my mind.
The doors to the lecture hall pop open, and my classmates stream around us, and I keep kissing him, molding my body into his, contemplating skipping class.
“Any time you want to shut me up like that,” I say, “you can go ahead and do it.”
“When are you done with class?” He presses his lips to my forehead.
“Eleven,” I say. “Lunch?”
“Come to my place,” he says. “I’ll cook for you.”
For a second, our gazes lock, and a flurry of wings beats in my stomach. If anything should cause a riot, it should have been the kiss, but it’s the tenderness in his expression doing it.
“Let me feed you,” he says.
“Oh, you can feed it to me.” I can’t help my wide grin. “I’ll take every inch you offer.”
His lips quirk up into an almost smile, and he slaps my ass. “Go learn something besides sexual innuendos.”
I head into the lecture hall, and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s still staring after me. Another rush of flapping assails my stomach.
When I arrive at Brent’s apartment, Jaxon isn’t home, but Brent is putting together enough food to feed an army. In other words, enough chicken parmesan to feed him with a corner left for me.
“At this point,” I say, taking a seat at the small island. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised at how much you eat, but are you really going to consume all this?”
Brent grabs a raw carrot from the bag on the counter, runs it through the dip, and bites into it. “Over the course of the day, yeah. When I cook, I cook a lot, and then I just grab and go for the rest of the day.”
“Do you need any help?” I ask.
“Nope. You can make yourself at home.” He stirs the pasta in the pot.
I rotate on the bar stool to take in the rest of the small apartment. It’s sparsely furnished with items that have seen better days. One plus of living with two other women—we actually care what our temporary accommodation looks like.
“We don’t spend a lot of time here,” Brent says from behind me.
“I can see why. Prison probably has a similar feel,” I say.
Brent coughs and then chuckles. “All right, what would you do?”
There’s not a lot to work with in the main room. Bare white walls. The furniture could be arranged differently. I lean my elbow on the island and glance at Brent over my shoulder. “Permission to explore everywhere in the apartment for material?”
“And by everywhere, do you really mean everywhere?” Brent winces.
“I won’t open a nightstand, look under the mattress, or examine your dirty laundry—literal or figurative.” I cross my heart. “I’ll stay out of Jaxon’s room.”
“He’s got some stuff in the hall closet that’s probably fair game.”
“I’m on it.” I hop off the stool, and I set to work on rearranging the furniture. Brent watches me with amusement, but he doesn’t offer to help. He’s lucky the furniture isn’t heavy, or he’d be losing fake boyfriend points.
In the hallway, I drag out a thin blanket and some framed photos. At the door to Brent’s room, I hesitate. His room is just as sparse as the living room. A box has more character. In his closet, I rummage through and find some gems that’ll give the living room more character.
I’m putting the finishing touches on the living space when the front door rattles.
“I haven’t had a chance to—”
“Smells good in here,” Jaxon says from the doorway without looking up. “I love it when you cook for me.” When he glances up, he drops his bag at his feet. “You redecorated? What the fuck?”
“Do you like it?” I ask from behind the couch.
Jaxon’s gaze ping-pongs from me to Brent to the redecorated living room. “I have no idea what’s going on,” he says. “But Posey, if you’re here to take me up on my proposition from freshman year, you’re a little late, but I’m still game.”
“Oddly,” I say, “that’s not why I’m here. I went to Bermuda with Brent this weekend.”
Jaxon rotates on his heel to stare at Brent, and he points at me. “She’s Jensen.”
“Shocked me too.”
“Huh.” He looks from me to Brent and back to me. “And now you two are...”
“Fake dating,” I say. “To throw Val off the reunion scent.”
Jaxon starts laughing, and whatever he’s thinking about just makes him laugh harder until he’s bracing his hands on his knees in stitches.
“Ignore him.” Brent lifts the spoon for the sauce to his lips to taste it. He picks up the pepper and adds more.
Jaxon wipes tears off his cheeks and tips his chin at me. “What do you get out of this?”
I open my mouth, and Brent interjects. “Don’t tell him.”
“Lattes and orgasms,” I say. “As many of both as I want.”
“Sounds like my last relationship,” Jaxon says. “Not fake, just so we’re clear.”
“This one is, just so we’re clear,” I say.
“Your bedroom is that way.” Brent points to the hallway.
“Now you’re kicking me out of the common space?” Jaxon picks up his bag, but he leans against the wall instead of heading to his room. “Since this is fake and all, my bedroom could use a woman’s touch.”
“Jax,” Brent says.
“Where would you want the woman to touch?” I cock my head.
“Posey,” Brent says with a sigh.
The way he says my name, as though he has any right to interfere in this conversation, annoys me. Jaxon is a flirt, and so am I. We agreed to tell our roommates the truth, and so Jaxon is probably the only person it’s safe for me to flirt with until Brent and I are publicly and privately done.
“I have all kinds of ideas,” Jaxon says. “But I’m not sure what to use for a focal point. The climax, shall we say.”
Brent circles the island and ushers Jaxon into the hallway, and his bedroom door closes on the sound of his laughter.
When Brent comes back into the living room, he stares at me for a beat with his hands on his hips. “Can we make a loose rule about flirting with roommates? I promise not to flirt with yours if you don’t flirt with mine?”
I cross my arms. “If this is about jealousy—”
“Nope. Not jealous.” He holds up his hands. “Jax is one of my closest buddies, but he’s got no boundaries. Whatever you want to do once our fake dating is done is up to you. We don’t need any complications. It’s a couple of weeks.”
There is a grain of logic there. No point in muddying the water. “Fine.” I’m not convinced his motives are purely practical, but it’s not worth an argument since I have no interest in Jaxon Parish anyway. Could have been there and done that in freshman year.
“Food’s ready.” Brent turns to dish up his plate. “Want me to get yours?”
“I can get my own,” I say, and I brush against his arm as I grab a plate.
Once we’ve both gotten what we want, we sit side by side at the island. There’s a weird tension between us that I don’t like.
“What do you want to do after this?” Brent asks.
“I have a lot of school work, and since Jaxon is here, he can help run interference with Val, right?” I focus on my food while I speak.
Brent doesn’t say anything for a beat. “Yeah.” The word sounds heavy, as though coming back to campus has weighed us down in unexpected ways.
We eat in silence, and when we’re done, I help him tidy the kitchen before grabbing my bag from the front entranceway. This whole fake relationship thing was probably a mistake. He can’t even take me flirting with his roommate.
“Jensen,” he says when I’m at the door.
I pause with my back to him, and then he’s behind me. A frisson of awareness races up my spine, and the connection I sensed between us in Bermuda is back in full force. Connection? Lust. Full-on, undeniable lust.
His large hand grips my biceps, and he rotates me around and presses me against the wall. “Don’t leave mad,” he says, and then he kisses me.
It’s deeply unfair that one brush of his lips against mine causes my panties to dampen with need. My bag hits the floor with a thud, and Brent lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me to his room.
His comment about Jaxon was about avoiding complications, nothing more. Sensible, really. The less we intertwine our lives and friends, the easier it’ll be to shake hands and move on in a couple weeks.
The only things I want from Brent are orgasms and lattes. When he lowers me onto the bed, I stare into his golden-brown eyes, and I pray I never want anything more.