Page 43 of Fake Crown

In the hallway, I drag out a thin blanket and some framed photos. At the door to Brent’s room, I hesitate. His room is just as sparse as the living room. A box has more character. In his closet, I rummage through and find some gems that’ll give the living room more character.

I’m putting the finishing touches on the living space when the front door rattles.

“I haven’t had a chance to—”

“Smells good in here,” Jaxon says from the doorway without looking up. “I love it when you cook for me.” When he glances up, he drops his bag at his feet. “You redecorated? What the fuck?”

“Do you like it?” I ask from behind the couch.

Jaxon’s gaze ping-pongs from me to Brent to the redecorated living room. “I have no idea what’s going on,” he says. “But Posey, if you’re here to take me up on my proposition from freshman year, you’re a little late, but I’m still game.”

“Oddly,” I say, “that’s not why I’m here. I went to Bermuda with Brent this weekend.”

Jaxon rotates on his heel to stare at Brent, and he points at me. “She’s Jensen.”

“Shocked me too.”

“Huh.” He looks from me to Brent and back to me. “And now you two are...”

“Fake dating,” I say. “To throw Val off the reunion scent.”

Jaxon starts laughing, and whatever he’s thinking about just makes him laugh harder until he’s bracing his hands on his knees in stitches.

“Ignore him.” Brent lifts the spoon for the sauce to his lips to taste it. He picks up the pepper and adds more.

Jaxon wipes tears off his cheeks and tips his chin at me. “What do you get out of this?”

I open my mouth, and Brent interjects. “Don’t tell him.”

“Lattes and orgasms,” I say. “As many of both as I want.”

“Sounds like my last relationship,” Jaxon says. “Not fake, just so we’re clear.”

“This one is, just so we’re clear,” I say.

“Your bedroom is that way.” Brent points to the hallway.

“Now you’re kicking me out of the common space?” Jaxon picks up his bag, but he leans against the wall instead of heading to his room. “Since this is fake and all, my bedroom could use a woman’s touch.”

“Jax,” Brent says.

“Where would you want the woman to touch?” I cock my head.

“Posey,” Brent says with a sigh.

The way he says my name, as though he has any right to interfere in this conversation, annoys me. Jaxon is a flirt, and so am I. We agreed to tell our roommates the truth, and so Jaxon is probably the only person it’s safe for me to flirt with until Brent and I are publicly and privately done.

“I have all kinds of ideas,” Jaxon says. “But I’m not sure what to use for a focal point. The climax, shall we say.”

Brent circles the island and ushers Jaxon into the hallway, and his bedroom door closes on the sound of his laughter.

When Brent comes back into the living room, he stares at me for a beat with his hands on his hips. “Can we make a loose rule about flirting with roommates? I promise not to flirt with yours if you don’t flirt with mine?”

I cross my arms. “If this is about jealousy—”

“Nope. Not jealous.” He holds up his hands. “Jax is one of my closest buddies, but he’s got no boundaries. Whatever you want to do once our fake dating is done is up to you. We don’t need any complications. It’s a couple of weeks.”

There is a grain of logic there. No point in muddying the water. “Fine.” I’m not convinced his motives are purely practical, but it’s not worth an argument since I have no interest in Jaxon Parish anyway. Could have been there and done that in freshman year.