"Yeah," I say, nodding. "Simple, plausible, close enough to the truth to be believable."
"And what about outside the fraternity?" he asks. "Your family, for instance."
My stomach churns, and I feel my shoulders tense. Introducing anyone to my parents means watching them get judged by the Huntington political machine. Watching my father calculate whether a relationship helps or hurts his Senate run. Enduring my mother's questions about James's family, his prospects, and whether he "understands the responsibilities that come with the Huntington name."
And this isn't even real. I can't imagine putting James through that whole show for something fake. I can barely stand putting myself through it for things that are real.
"But if they visit?—"
"They won't." My parents visit the campus only for official functions where their presence benefits my father's image. A fraternity house is not on their itinerary.
"Fine. My status as a forever-single guy is pretty well-known, so no problems there." A hint of making fun of himself in his voice that grabs my attention.
"Forever single because you want to be?" I ask, even though I probably shouldn't.
"By circumstance," he says. "Relationships require… trust. Not my forte."
"Understandable." I can recognize a fellow emotional fortress when I see one.
We continue to refine our plan, addressing everything from pet names, absolutely not! To how we'll handle potential jealousy scenarios. By the time we finish, it's nearly 3 AM again, and we have a solid plan for a convincing fake relationship.
Looking at our finished document, I shake my head. "This is either brilliant or completely insane."
"Possibly both," he concedes. "But it addresses our mutual problem."
Stifling a yawn as my head nods. "So we're agreed? Operation Fake Relationship begins tomorrow?"
"With a slow rollout like we said in the relationship agreement,” I say, as he saves the document to a private folder.
I laugh. "You're something else, Hunter."
"In a good way or bad way?" He's no longer looking at the screen, his fingers still on the mouse but frozen. Like the answer actually matters.
Looking at him directly, I allow myself more honesty than I usually do. "I'm still figuring that out. But I'm leaning toward good."
Something changes between us right then, as if we both realize this game we're playing has rules we don't quite understand yet. I should probably be concerned, but instead I am weirdly excited about what comes next.
"We should get some sleep," he says finally, shutting down his computer.
Standing and stretching after hours of sitting, my shirt rides up slightly, and I catch James looking away quickly. He looked. And now he's pretending he didn't. Something about that, about getting to him, makes me feel weirdly powerful.
"Goodnight, James," I say, using his first name deliberately. "Sweet dreams of spreadsheets and strategic deception."
"Goodnight, Caleb." The way he says my name sounds different somehow. More significant.Or maybe I'm just reading something that doesn't exist into it.
His door closes before mine does, and the hallway goes quiet.
The fake relationship thing made sense as we planned it: clear rules, mutual benefits, and an easy exit strategy. But hanging out tonight felt... not fake. The hot chocolate, the lights, his stupid rare smile that did something weird to my chest.
Which means this is already getting messier than it needs to be, and we just started.
Well shit.
Chapter 8
3 AM Collaborations
JAMES
