Living with her Fake Fiancé

Chloe hurried out of her bedroom, carrying her scarf and earrings and trying to button her top as she walked.

She was running late, and she’d promised herself she would never arrive late to her new job.

Four months in, and she was already a flop.

She ran down the hall toward the kitchen, her heels clicking on the old hardwood floor of the spacious loft apartment. She’d bought herself the shoes to celebrate having work again after almost a year of unemployment. She’d gotten a good job in the marketing department of the local university, doing graphic design. It paid decently and left her enough time in the evenings to finish the coursework for her MFA degree in creative technologies.

The best thing about getting the job, however, was being able to move out of her parents’ house, where she’d been living since she lost her previous job, and move back into this downtown apartment with her friends.

Her roommates were all up when she hurried into the kitchen. Michelle and Brent were sitting on stools at the granite-topped island, and Steve was lounging on the couch, reading a newspaper.

He still read paper newspapers even though no one else their age did. He said he liked the smell of the ink.

Steve and Michelle were a couple, and Brent had moved in a few months ago. Chloe felt like she knew him pretty well now, but she was still trying to get him to like her and not having a lot of luck with it.

She was an outgoing person who made friends easily and took pleasure in her relationships. Ever since he’d moved in, Brent had been a challenge to her. One she hadn’t yet conquered.

She would though.

She didn’t have time to socialize this morning. She mumbled out a greeting and ran to the refrigerator to grab a few things to pack for lunch. It was too expensive to buy lunch on campus every day. Her job paid well, but she had credit card debt from her year of unemployment.

Not to mention her student loans.

“You’re not eating breakfast?” Michelle asked, looking up from her laptop. She had brown hair and a quiet, unassuming prettiness. She was one of Chloe’s two best friends.

“I don’t have time.” Chloe haphazardly stuffed an apple, a yogurt, and a granola bar into her insulated lunch pouch. “I’m late. I can’t be late!”

“You’re not that late. Doesn’t work start at eight? It’s just seven forty.”

“I know, but I need to catch the 7:42 bus if I’m going to make it to my building on time.”

“You’re never going to get to the bus stop in two minutes,” Steve said from his position sprawled out on the couch. He was fully dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt (half-untucked), and he looked relaxed and unhurried.

Chloe scowled at him since little was more annoying than seeing someone all ready to go and taking it easy when you were in a rush. “I know that!” She was trying to tie her scarf around her neck with one hand and dig a spoon out of a drawer with the other. “Why do you think I’m all hassled? I’ll have to take the 7:55 bus, which means I’ll be late for work.”

“Did you oversleep?” Michelle asked, sounding more sympathetic than her boyfriend.

“Yes. I slept right through my alarm. I was having the best dream, and I didn’t wake up.”

“What was the dream about?”

Chloe didn’t really have time for this conversation, but she liked to chat more than she liked rushing to work, and Michelle sounded genuinely interested. She did make some progress putting on her jewelry as she said, “It was a really good one.”

She gave her friend a significant look that made Michelle giggle.

The dream had been hot. Hot. The man had been faceless—just a big, firm body in bed with her. The images had been nothing but scattered fragments. A large hand. A strong thigh. A delicious hardness moving inside her. She’d been aroused and excited when she’d woken up and wanted to indulge the feeling with a little private time, but she’d glanced at the clock and panicked when she’d seen how late it was.

“Who was the guy?” Steve asked from the couch. Even without seeing her look to Michelle, he’d known exactly what she’d been talking about. They’d known each other a long time.

Brent hadn’t said a word yet. He sat eating cereal at the counter. He wasn’t much of a talker. He looked like a lumberjack, but he was thoughtful and generous and incredibly smart. He was a really good guy, and she wished he liked her more. She’d been making an effort to smile at him a lot and go out of her way to talk to him, but she didn’t have time this morning.

“No idea. Just a faceless body. Maybe that was why it was so good. None of the pressure of an actual personality.” Chloe wasn’t embarrassed to be talking about her sex dream. She wasn’t self-conscious about sex, and she was always open with her friends. Plus sharing an apartment like this with other single adults meant there were certain limits on privacy.

She remembered her hair, which she’d barely even brushed this morning, so she knotted it up quickly with the clip she’d left on the island last night. Her dark hair was long but not all that thick so it stayed in place when she clipped it up. “There,” she said. “Am I dressed?”

She glanced over at Michelle for affirmation.

“Yes, you look good. Just fix the cuff of your pants.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” Chloe crouched down to refold one of the cuffs on her man-style gray trousers. They were made of a thick, stretchy material that was almost as comfortable as sweatpants, and she thought they looked stylish and professional. When paired with her high heels, they also made her look taller than her five four.

She was still crouched on the floor when she became aware of someone standing right beside her. She saw a pair of bare male feet. Then the flannel of orange-and-maroon pajama pants. Her line of sight ascended as she stood up. A flat, firm belly. A strong, well-defined man chest with a scattering of brown hair on it. A very impressive pair of shoulders. A thick, squared-off beard. Sober brown eyes.

Brent.