The Fake Girlfriend Rules

“Crazy or brilliant?” he asks.

“Crazy. Definitely crazy.” I make exaggerated nods. “Are we even going to know how to act together as a couple? Don't you think it'll feel weird?”

“Nah, it's going to be fine. But if you're worried, I can come snuggle up to you now so we can practice. What do you think? Want to share a seat?” He wags his brows and grins. “A little practice never hurt anyone.”

I give him a side eyed glare, my mouth crinkling up tight. “This is a one and done thing. After dinner tomorrow, we're going back to normal.”

“All right, but we both know how bad you do when you don't study for a test. Think of this like an exam. The night before you cram, hoping you got it all down. I don't think it's a bad idea to practice, that's how we get an A.”

I start to laugh, pulling my eyes off his and looking off into the room. “That's not me you're talking about, it's you. You were the one who sucked at tests.”

“I think your memory is a little foggy.”

“You're definitely wrong on this one. You had to copy my math test in eleventh grade just to pass. You used my notes for history class, and you wouldn't have passed biology without me helping you study. Remember?”

He squints at me, rocking his head on his shoulders. “Agree to disagree. Either way, the option is there if you want to take it. These arms are good for more than lifting weights and moving video equipment around.”

I can't stop myself from laughing as he flexes his biceps and smiles at his own muscles. This is one thing that I love about Doug, his ability to make me feel better no matter what. It doesn't matter why I'm upset, by the end of the day, he has me smiling.

Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little apprehensive about playing the role of his girlfriend. There's a lot riding on this. His job. Our apartment. It all falls on us making this believable.

What if we fail? What if they notice we're faking?

That's not going not going to happen., I tell myself.

Because this has to work. Even if the boundaries need to get blurred in order to make it work. Sometimes you need to get dirty to get what you want. Sometimes you need to take a risk to reap the reward.

I'm going to make sure no one questions if we're real or not. If that means holding his hand and snuggling up to him, I'll do it. If I have to give him a little kiss or look at him with love in my eyes, I'm in.

I just hope I don't leave the dinner wanting more.

Like sex. . .

Would that be so bad?

Doug is smirking at me from across the table. He lowers his lids, and softly taps the rim of his beer. “I know what you're thinking,” he says in a sultry deep voice.

“You do?”

A smile dangles at the corner of his lips as he nods. “Of course, I do. I know you, Lyl.” He winks at me, his finger circling the top of his beer like he's tracing a nipple. “I know how to listen to a woman's body.”

My breath hitches as a lump forms in the back of my throat. “Yeah? What is mine saying right now?” I ask. There's a tremble in my voice. It's subtle, but there's no denying it.

Doug tips his head a hair as he licks his lips. “Do you really want me to say it out loud?”

“I don't know, I can't read your mind. You're the one claiming to be a mind reader.”

“Not a mind reader, I'm a body reader. And yours is telling me you need another beer.”

I exhale a relieved breath, my tense muscles calming down as I shake my empty bottle. “You nailed it.”

“Not yet I haven't,” he says with conviction. “Not yet.”

What the hell does he mean by that? He can't mean sex.

Can he?

4

Douglas

I adjust the jacket on my suit, fixing the cuffs. My hair is combed and gelled in place. I'm opting for no tie because that's just not my style. The suit looks good without it anyway, so I don't think I need it.

This suit really is made for me. Lyllian was right. The jacket hugs my shoulders, and the sleeves rest just below my wrist. Dressed in all black I look like the devil himself. Ready and eager to corrupt a heavenly soul.

The only thing left to add to my outfit is a big silver watch that was my grandfather's. I clasp the buckle and give myself one last look in the mirror.

I look fucking good.

“Hey, you almost ready?” I ask Lyllian. “We need to be there for six.”

“Yeah, I just need one more minute,” she calls back from inside her room.