Page 41 of Maybe We Can Fake It

Some people are simply built to be alone.

Ididn’tsignupfor this kind of torture.

Well, maybe I did, but I don’t deserve it. Despite my faults, I like to think I’m a decent person. All I wanted to do was help Brenden out. I never expected that agreeing to be his fake boyfriend would wind me up here. Facing my second night in a row of sharing a bed with him, hoping I don’t pop a boner like the first time.

He looks unnecessarily adorable right now, in his pajama pants that hang low on his hips and are probably super soft. Not that I’ll be finding out.

“You can put your clothes away in the dresser if you want,” he says, gesturing to the duffle bag I’m holding. “I’ll make some room.”

“No, don’t go through the trouble,” I tell him. “I’ll keep this out of the way.” Crossing to the corner of the room by the ensuite, I set my bag on the floor and give it a little shove with my foot to tuck it away as much as possible. “Is that okay?”

I packed some clothes and toiletries before coming here and kept the bag in my truck. Then I snuck back out to grab it after Elise and Grant went to bed. Having my clothes here will help sell us as a couple, plus if I’m going to keep spending the night, I need deodorant and my own shampoo and all that shit.

Brenden’s shampoo is fruity. And while it works for him, I’d rather not be walking around smelling like a strawberry or whatever.

“Yeah, it’s fine there,” he says. “I don’t mind making room for you though.”

Of course he doesn’t. That’s just how he is. But my clothes aren’t that important to me. “Nah, don’t worry. I’m gonna change and brush my teeth, and then we can...”

He looks both nervous and amused as I trail off. I have no idea how to finish that sentence. And then we canwhat? Get in bed with each other. That’s the only thing left for us to do in this room.

So I squat down and rifle through my bag until I find what I need, then slip into the bathroom to do my business and try to get my head clear. Sleeping in sweatpants sucks, but as I tug the pair over my thighs, I remind myself that this provides an extra layer of protection in case my dick decides to misbehave again.

Not that it’s going to.

Absolutely not.

Iwillhave my body under control tonight.

With that likely false sense of confidence, I exit the bathroom to find Brenden sitting on top of the covers on his bed, back propped against a couple pillows, with one knee pulled up toward his chest. He actually looks a lot more relaxed now thanhe did last night. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve already made it through one night doing this, or because he’s made it through his first full day of the grandparents’ visit. Either way, relaxed is a good look on him.

Of course, he has no idea about the precarious position I found us in this morning. About my little—well, not solittle—issue. And I’m sure as hell not about to tell him.

When I join him on the bed, he adjusts his position so that he’s still propped up, but leaning on his side to face me, his knee now pointed my way. He gives me a soft smile. “Have I thanked you yet today?”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Giving him a smile of my own, I say, “You probably have.”

“Good for me then,” he replies with a little giggle.

I’d love to bottle up that sound and keep it forever. To have it for those nights alone in my apartment when the silence starts to sound too oppressive.

It’s not often that happens. Built to be alone, remember? But occasionally, I do get sick of my own company. Those are usually the nights when I drive out of town looking for a hookup, but just hearing Brenden’s laughter and getting to think about him could possibly be even better.

Realizing he’s watching me with intrigue now, I adjust my weight nervously. I don’t even want to know what my face must have been doing just then.

“What would you want in a boyfriend?” I ask, shifting the focus onto him.

He scrunches his face in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I think the meaning is obvious. But I’m only asking to get a better idea of how I should play this role for him, so I tell him as much. “Help me learn what you look for in a guy. What’simportant to you in a relationship? That way I can make sure to be that in front of May’s grandparents.”

His expression shifts to deep appreciation, and I don’t know what to do with that. So I squirm some more as I wait for him to consider his answer. Maybe this was a stupid question. It doesn’t matter, really, what he wants out of a relationship, because we’re not actually dating. I’m sure I can continue to fake it just fine without this intimate knowledge.

Then he says, “The biggest thing for me is just having someone I know I can depend on.”

---