by Crow, Baylin
How drunk had we gotten? The memories from last night were hazy at best. There were definitely shots of tequila involved. I searched through the fog, finally grasping one memory that must have happened right before I passed out.
"I'm never drinking again," I swore as Rook tossed my arm over his shoulder and led me up the stairs and into an empty guest room.
"Good lord, you're heavy." He dropped me onto the mattress and tugged off my shoes before removing his. He crawled onto the bed beside me.
I eyed him warily. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure you're okay if you get sick or something."
I had pulled off my own shirt, and that was the last thing I remembered.
Glancing away from Rook, I studied the wall across from me. Then the conversation with Rook on the patio came rushing back with sharp clarity and awareness.
Rook's confession. He hadn't hated kissing me. Maybe even wanted to do it again.
Why?
It was too much to process in the midst of a nasty hangover. Too many unanswered questions. But I knew I'd overthink and obsess over those words later.
We hadn't shared a bed in four years—not since the day he'd kissed me. And I didn't think it was wise to let him wake up, realizing his hand was curled in a possessive hold over my hip.
With careful movements, I slowly tried to move his hand. He grunted in his sleep, shifting closer, dragging me back. Right against his morning wood.
Fuck. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, holding back the moan teasing the back of my throat. The only thing preventing me from grinding my ass back against him, and possibly ruining our friendship, was the sharp pounding in my head.
Now, I really needed to move. I eased his hand away again, and this time he relented, rolling onto his back with a light snore.
Fighting through the nausea and aches, I made my way to the en-suite bathroom and took care of business before fishing an unopened toothbrush from the drawer.
The mirror wasn't doing me any favors, and I winced at my reflection. My hair stuck out in odd angles, and my eyes were red and slightly puffy. I looked as bad as I felt.
After swishing around a mouthful of mint-flavored mouthwash, I headed back to the bedroom. Rook was sitting up in bed with the crisp white sheets pooling around his waist and rubbing his eyes.
His gaze shot to mine when the door creaked, and then a deep laugh rumbled in his chest. "Holy shit. You look like hell."
"Thanks, asshole." I searched the floor for my shoes, finding the toes of both poking out from under the bed. I reached down and grunted, rubbing my forehead where stabbing pain was making me see double. I tried again and grabbed them before sinking onto the mattress to put them on. "I need to hunt down some shit for this headache."
His voice was raspy with sleep. "On the nightstand. I figured you'd need it."
I glanced to where a pill bottle sat next to a glass of water, as promised, and then gave Rook an appreciative smile. "You're the best."
His lips kicked up on one side. "I know."
Shaking my head at the cocky, yet thoughtful, jerk, I quickly popped two into my mouth and chugged the water down my parched throat.
Wiping the back of my hand against my mouth, I focused on Rook again. "Why'd you let me drink so much?"
He shrugged. "I didn't. Knight crawled out of his mini-orgy, and you decided it was a good idea to start making bets. With basketball."
I groaned. "I didn't."
He nodded, lips twitching. "You definitely did."
Other than appearing tired, Rook didn't seem to be suffering the same consequences this morning. "You didn't drink?"
"Not much. Someone had to babysit your ass." His grin grew, and if I was sure my head wouldn't explode, I’d have punched him.
"I need a shower in the worst way." I stunk like a brewery mixed with sweat. The latter of which was caused by the furnace radiating from Rook's skin against mine. I decided not to point that out.
Rook sat up and stretched before tossing his long legs over the edge of the bed. "At least you didn't throw up."
Small mercies. "There is that."
He rose and snatched his shirt from the floor, slipping it over his head. Grabbing our hoodies from where they were draped over a chaise lounge, Rook tossed mine over the bed where I caught it. "Ready to head out?"
"Yeah." I was ready to wash the smell away and hopefully do fuck all, lounging on our couch for the rest of the day. I tugged my hoodie on and checked the pouch. Phone, keys and wallet. Check. Somehow, they hadn't gotten lost while I'd been busy making bad decisions.
Rook pulled his hoodie over his head. "Let me track Knight down and tell him to lock up. He disappeared with those girls again right after everyone else left. I had to set the alarm and then haul your heavy ass to bed.”
"So responsible," I muttered.
"One of us has to be." He grinned.
I flipped Rook off, making him laugh as he headed toward the door.
"It won't happen again," I called out as he stepped into the hall.
I wasn't sure what had prompted me to act so out of character and drink so much. Maybe it was the whole Brad situation. That was a lie. It had everything to do with Rook's admission. Rook wanted to kiss me again. I still had no idea what to do with that information.
On one hand, I wished he'd kept it to himself because I could already feel the stirring of false hope. On the other…Rook wanted to kiss me again. What the hell?
After quickly remaking the bed, even though I was sure the bedding would be stripped and washed, I headed downstairs just as Knight and Rook stepped inside from the back door. For someone who had been well on his way to wasted last night, Knight looked fresh and alert. He'd already cleaned up and was dressed in workout gear, appearing ready to head out for a run.
"Noah." Rook's tone held an annoyed edge.
I blinked and focused on him. "Yeah?"
He frowned as his gaze switched from me to Knight and back. "Let's go."
“So soon?” When I glanced at Knight, he winked.
I rolled my eyes, pointing a finger in his direction. "Don't. I was not checking you out. I was just wondering why you didn't look like complete shit."
His grin grew flirty as he strolled over to my side and hung a bulky arm over my shoulder. "Had to look good for you, didn't I?"
I shrugged him off. "Maybe you are still drunk."
"For fuck’s sake, Knight," Rook snapped.
Knight bumped his arm against mine. "I'm not sure why it's fun to see him so worked up."
"Because you're an asshole?" I offered.
"I'm going to hold back my extremely inappropriate retort to that just to prove I'm not." He smirked.
After saying goodbye to the exasperating brute, I followed Rook outside and headed for his SUV. The wind had died down, and the air didn't hold the bite it had the night before. Thank fuck.
Once we settled in our seats, Rook grumbled under his breath. Something about kicking Knight's ass.
* * *
Rook unlocked the door, and we stepped into our modest two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a complex close to campus, largely occupied by college students.
“Need the bathroom before I grab a shower?” I asked Rook as I emptied the contents from my pockets onto the coffee table.
“Nope. Go ahead.” He plopped down on the couch upholstered in cracked faux leather as I passed by. “I’m ordering food. Anything particular you want?”
“Whatever’s cheapest,” I called back before shutting the bathroom door behind me. After flipping the lock, I cranked the water on high heat and stripped down. It was cold in the small room, so I hurried to get under the piping hot spray of the shower and whipped the curtain closed.
The throbbing at my temples had dulled, but I was still tired. And confused. I told myself to forget about what Rook had said, but now that I stood alone beneath the hot spray with my forehead pressed against the cool tiles, it was all I could think about.
“Shut up and close your eyes.” His words from that night so long ago played in my head. The vivid memory of his lips pressed to mine, parting, and then the slick slide of our tongues—massaging, testing, and tasting—caused my breath to race in and out of my lungs. My cock began to harden. Grinding my molars together, I refused to give in the to urge to jerk off and forced myself through a quick wash.
The faded beige towel with frayed edges I snagged from the cabinet was just one of the many things we owned that needed to be replaced. But we were barely making rent from my shit-paying job at the campus library and the little money Rook’s family was able to send. I tied the ugly thing around my waist and stepped out of the bathroom.
Rook was passed out on our second-hand couch while a basketball game played on the only expensive thing we owned—a large smart TV mounted on the wall.
I stepped lightly down the hall and into my room to grab a clean pair of boxer briefs and slipped on a pair of mesh shorts over them.
Running the towel over my damp hair, I tiptoed into the kitchen where our stackable washer and dryer sat in its own little nook behind a slatted door. I tossed my clothes in the washer and turned it on.
I'd been trying to be quiet, but the lid slipped from my fingers, clanging shut at the same time my phone started ringing from where I'd left it on the coffee table. It was still early, and only one person called me on the weekends at stupid o'clock in the morning, aka before eight AM.
Rook grumbled loudly, and I jogged back to the living room, grabbing my phone. Mom flashed on the screen.
"Hey, Mom," I answered fell onto the recliner with a broken footrest that matched the couch.
“Morning, honey,” she replied brightly. “I wasn’t sure you’d be up yet.”
And yet you called anyway. Like clockwork. “I just got out of the shower. What's up?"
She paused. "I need to talk to you about your brother's wedding."
Dread settled in my gut. It was the tone, I decided. Almost like she was gearing up for a trial where she had to present her case in the most carefully practiced way. "I'm listening."
“Kendra's friend, Edward, will be at the wedding.” I knew exactly where this was going and sighed. She ignored it. “He's spending the week at the resort, and I think you two might hit it off. "
Rubbing my eyes, I sighed under my breath. "Mom, I don't need a date."
Rook's sleepy chuckle drew my attention. He watched me between cracked eyelids and mouthed good luck.
I rolled my eyes and concentrated on the framed poster of one of my favorite silent films, surrounded by a mix of pictures of me, Rook, our families and friends.
"Your sister-in-law says he's a wonderful man, Noah." My mom continued as if she hadn't heard me. "Kind and patient. Honey, I think you should give him a chance.”
My mother's voice was soft and lilting, something I'd found comfort in when I was a kid. But as she tried to set me up on yet another date, it was feeding my waning headache.
"My future sister-in-law should be focusing on her wedding and not my love life. Have you even met him?" I shifted uncomfortably on the cushion that crackled beneath my weight, and rubbed my temples.
My mom hesitated for half a second. "Well, no. But I trust Kendra. She wouldn't have come up with the idea unless she was sure about him. Edward’s an engineer, and Kendra showed me photos. He’s rather handsome in a polished way."
I glanced at Rook. He was far from polished. He was athletic and rough around the edges. There was no way I’d be into this guy she had her sights set on. “Why do I even need a date anyway?”
"Well, I suppose you don't need one, but it would be nice to see you with someone. You haven't dated anyone…well, ever."
Guilt gnawed at my gut. Of course, she hadn't known about Brad, so I couldn’t hold her completely at fault, but she needed a hobby that didn't involve matchmaking, specifically with me as a participant. Normally, I was able to dodge her attempts, especially since she’d moved with James to Kansas where he’d gotten a new job. It was harder for her to keep track of my love life from a few states away. But five days around the guy? There was no way I could avoid him that long.
“Mom—"
"Kendra's already told him about you,” she interrupted. “He's excited to meet you, Noah. Please give him a chance. You might be surprised and enjoy his company."
Doubtful, considering the guy I wanted was currently staring at me with amusement tipping his lips. I glared and his grin stretched wide.
"Even Trevor's best man, Brad, is bringing a date. I'm glad to see him finally settling down. That boy used to get your brother into so much trouble in college."
I didn't want to burst her bubble by informing her Trevor had gotten into enough trouble all on his own. Kendra was good for him. But right then, I decided his fiancée was bad for me. I don't know why it took me so long to process what she'd said, but when I did, I almost laughed. I would hardly call a guy Brad had been seeing for a few months settling down.
My mom’s voice distracted me. “Anyway, about Edward—"
"I’m sure he’s a great guy, Mom. But I can't take you up on the offer. I wasn't ready to tell you yet, but I have a boyfriend." The lie was out of my mouth before I could reel it back in. Rook choked on a laugh, and I waved at him to shut his trap.
She quieted. "Why didn't you tell me?"
The note of hurt in her tone made me feel guilty, but there was no turning back now. I avoided glancing at Rook, knowing he was delighting in my discomfort. Jerk.
I cleared my throat. "It's new, and I wanted to give it some time first."
"Oh, honey," she breathed out in delight. "I'm so glad. What’s he like? Tell me everything!”
I could easily picture her with a huge smile tugging her cheeks.
Scrambling for details, I came up with the words I knew she wanted to hear. "He’s nice. Charming. It's how he won me over."
Rook snorted. When I glanced at him, he had his hand covering his mouth as he tried to control the laughter making his shoulders bounce. I flipped him off which only made the situation worse.
I could hear her excitement in her voice. "Are you bringing him to the wedding? Oh, you have to. I need to meet him."
"I’m not sure," I lied again, because it was apparently becoming a rapidly growing pathological condition. "He works a lot of hours, and I haven't asked him."
She paused. “He doesn’t exist, does he?”
“What? Of course, he exists. Why would I make that up?” I responded as if shocked she’d accuse me of something so dishonest.
Rook’s laugh was so loud, even his hand did nothing to mask it.
“Oh, was that Rook? Tell him I said hi!” My mom loved Rook as much as Mrs. Oliveira loved me. Maybe more.
“Yep. He actually needs my help with something, so I need to go. But talk soon? Love you. Bye.” I hung up, fully aware I’d catch shit for being rude the next time I spoke to her.
Rook tilted his head, slanting an amused grin. “Who’s this boyfriend I know nothing about?”
“Shut up.” I sulked while turning to stare at the TV. "So… That whole fake boyfriend thing… That still on the table?"
Rook burst out with raspy laughter, and my eyes snapped to his. He winked. "Anything for you, sugar lips."
I glared, recalling the nickname he’d used after kissing me. "That's still not going to happen."
He shrugged. "Sweet stuff? Pumpkin pie? Honey—"
"Are you hungry or something?" I frowned.
"No. I’m fucking starving. Speaking of"—he grabbed his phone off the table and glanced at the screen—“the food should be here soon.”
“Awesome. Maybe you’ll come up with something more original after you eat.” I stood and headed down the hall to my bedroom. In my desk drawer, I dug through a few spiral notebooks I kept for notes and found the red one I knew was unused. I pulled it free and returned to the living room.
When I plopped back down on the recliner, I flipp
ed the notebook open to the first page. "We need some rules."
His brow furrowed. "For what?"
"For the wedding." I held his gaze. "We'll call it The Faker Rulebook."
Seven
Rook
My eyebrows shot up, and I sat forward. “I’m sorry, do what now? The Faker…”
“Rulebook,” Noah repeated as he flattened the notebook on the coffee table.
I stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Why do we need a rulebook?”
“Because this is already an insane idea. Don’t you think there should be rules?” He tilted his head, causing his blond hair to sweep across his forehead. “Lines neither of us should cross? Expectations set in place so neither of us are caught off guard?”
When I didn’t respond because I was too busy trying to wrap my head around the fact that he thought we needed some sort of guidelines, Noah shook his head and brought his pencil down on the blank sheet.
“Hold on.” I pushed off the couch. “If you’re going to put this crazy thing together, I want the right to veto the stupid ones.”
I perched on the armrest of the recliner and squinted down at the paper, where he’d written the title in his barely legible handwriting.
The Faker Rulebook
Shaking my head, I laughed under my breath. “You’re serious about this?”
“Yes, and you should be too.” Noah glanced at me. “Okay, so my mom means well, but you know she can be…nosy. Especially where my love life is concerned. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already checked my social media status.”
I nodded because that at least made sense. “Okay, so we change it.”
Noah began to write again.
Rule #1 Change social media status.
He jerked back. “Wait, you realize other people will see this, right?”
Actually, I hadn’t given it any thought. “Just do it. I’ll update mine now and leave the name blank.”
“Someone’s an overachiever. Give me my phone so I can do the same.” Without looking up, he held out his hand, palm up, wiggling his fingers.
“So demanding.” With a dramatic groan, I stood and rounded up our phones. When I returned, I reclaimed my seat and smacked his into his greedy hand.