Page 12 of The Fake
Welcome?
She looks to Chloe like she expects an explanation. “How do you two know each other?”
We met last night and hooked up seems like the wrong answer so I stay quiet.
“Actually.” Chloe’s green eyes flit to me and then her spine straightens with some sort of resolve. “Nathan is my boyfriend.”
I let out a chuckle of surprise and then do my best to hide it behind a cough.
“You’reher boyfriend?” The brunette’s wide eyes snap to me.
I nod.
“I’m Emily.” The blonde with bouncy curls places her hand in mine. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
The other roommate continues to stare at me in shock, so I move to Chloe. “Well, I should get going.” I drop a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll catch ya later,girlfriend.”
I feel three sets of eyes following my every move out the door. Chloe catches me before I reach the stairs. Her red dress from last night pulled back on and bare feet, she looks like sex on Christmas morning.
“Thank you for covering for me back there. I panicked.”
“No problem.”
She nods. “Listen, about last night. It was…”
“Awesome? Hot? Unexpected?” I call out adjectives like dirty mad libs as images from last night flash through my mind. The night’s a bit blurry in places, but those long legs wrapped around me and her blonde hair falling around her shoulders as she rode me, taking her pleasure and rocking my damn world, are fucking vivid.
“A mistake,” she finally says. “I don’t do things like that. Ever.” She shakes her head with what I can only imagine is revulsion at what I thought was a pretty good night.
“You did it pretty well for someone who doesn’t.”
She blushes. “I—”
I cut her off before she can destroy any more of my fondness for last night. “I get it. Last night was fun. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Thank you.”
“Yep.” I turn and head down the stairs.
“Tennis?” she calls after me.
I shake my head without looking back. “Basketball, princess.”
* * *
Joel’s in the kitchen when I get back to the house. “What’s up, buddy? I was just about to send out search and rescue.”
Sitting on one of the barstools, I take the muffin he tosses at me. It’s still warm. “Momma Moreno?”
“Yeah, you just missed her.”
“Too bad,” I tease my buddy. His mom is ridiculously hot, and we all like to give him shit about it.
He gives me the finger. “We need to figure out who we’re going to ask to take Wes and Z’s rooms this year.”
“Feels weird replacing them.” Both Wes and Zeke graduated in May, and we’ve been dragging our feet to get new roommates.
