Page 65 of Fake Crown

“I’m a sucker for a buffet.” And you. “I’ll grab my stuff.”

Instead of making me nervous, the thought doesn’t scare me. My resistance is waning. I may be nothing more than a rebound for him, but spending this time together has made me realize there are things about a relationship that aren’t so bad. I doubt this fake boyfriend gig would have turned out the same with a different man. Many of the men I’ve engaged with could be callous or cruel or indifferent. Brent is none of those. Responding to his message in the campus chat might be the biggest risk I’ve ever taken, but my dream guy has turned out to be pretty dreamy.

In the hallway, Brent slings his arm around my shoulders as we walk toward the bank of elevators. He kisses the top of my head and lets out a deep sigh as we enter the elevator.

“Tired?”

“Gonna need a nap before finals.”

“Is that because I showed up at three in the morning and disturbed your sleep?”

“Nah, I usually need one even when a hot girl doesn’t show up at my hotel.” He winks at me as the doors to the lobby open.

Warmth spreads across my chest, but I let the feeling rise in me instead of trying to tamp it down. He must see something different in my expression because he stops walking toward his teammates and drags me against him before kissing me deeply. It’s the kind of kiss that would definitely lead to something more if we were in my hotel room. Instead, we’re almost at the lobby, and someone whistles, and another person catcalls us.

“Get a room,” Ethan says with a laugh.

“I have one.” Brent glances up. “Want me to go use it?”

“The other room,” Ethan says, and he points to me.

Brent laces his fingers with mine and takes me over to introduce me to the team. I’ve seen pictures of some of them before on Brent’s socials or on the school website. The team has been successful over the years.

As we walk to the restaurant, Ethan and Jessica walk with us while the rest of the team is spread out around us. Everyone is chattering about the buffet with enthusiasm.

“I didn’t know you and Val broke up,” Jessica says to Brent from beside me.

Part of me wonders if Jessica is loyal to Val for some reason. Most people don’t bring up the ex-girlfriend while the current one is within earshot. As far as I know, nobody here realizes Brent and I aren’t the real deal.

“I’m not one to air my laundry,” Brent says. “After what happened when I was fourteen, I keep my thoughts and opinions to myself. I don’t broadcast my life on social media.”

“When exactly did you two break up?” Jessica asks.

“Before I left for Bermuda.” Brent squeezes my hand, but this conversation isn’t bothering me in the slightest. I have a lot more confidence that he won’t slide into old habits.

“But Val...” Jessica’s brow furrows, and she glances at Ethan.

“Val can say or do whatever she wants,” Brent says. “I could care less. My strategy is the same as any other time someone tries to create drama. Lay low. Keep quiet. It always passes.”

His strategy might make sense for him, especially with the media attention and the cyclical nature of the Olympics, but I’m not convinced I could let someone do me dirty and keep my head down. So far, Val hasn’t done much other than refuse to admit she and Brent are broken up. Her threesome Hail Mary didn’t work, and she’s been absent from his life since. In that sense, I can understand not wanting to taunt the tiger.

We get to the restaurant, and I let my outgoing nature lead with his teammates. The best way to get other people to like you is to appear very interested in them and their lives. Easy. On the way back to the hotel, I hear a few people behind us talking about how I’m so different from Val. I don’t know if Brent hears them, too, but while he chats to Ethan, he gives my hand a squeeze, and I curl into his side.

While Brent naps, I attempt to finish the final pieces of my interior design project. My concentration is shot with him so close that I can reach out and run my fingers along his naked back. He’s so hyper focused on the meet that we haven’t even had sex once, which is unheard of. Considering our deal is supposed to be sex and coffee, the break from it should unnerve me.

Over the last two weeks, at every interval where some other guy would have tried to change me or force me to do something I may not be completely comfortable with, Brent has met my issues with understanding. Or at the very least with a willingness to understand. Even my middle-of-the-night impulsive decision to travel to Chicago didn’t faze him. My relationship record might be next to zero, but I’ve born witness to enough of them to recognize how rare whatever we’re developing is. Considering who I thought I was meeting at the airport, the reality has turned out to be quite different. He has a deep aversion to drama, which I tend to attract, but I think as long as I don’t drag him into it, we’ll be okay.

My heart speeds up at the realization I’m truly considering whether Brent and I could work beyond our arrangement. He hasn’t treated me like a rebound, but that doesn’t mean I’m not.

Brent stirs on the bed, and I pretend to be reviewing the final details of my assignment instead of staring at him.

“How’s it going?” Brent’s voice is deep and husky from sleep.

The sound sends a shot straight to my core. God, I want him. “Pretty much done. What time do you have to leave?”

Brent checks the clock on the bedside table and groans. “I should get going. Warmup is in an hour. We have a team meeting in fifteen minutes in Coach Brown’s room.” He sits up and rubs his cheeks. “Did you want to come watch? The meet starts at six.”

“Yes!”