Chapter 27

OSWALD AND GERTRUDE

27

From Oliver

FYI. Last night I brought you to the North Pond near Lincoln Park and we had a blast

To Oliver

Uh-huh, what's the vibe of the place? I've never been

From Oliver

Great views of the Chicago skyline and even better farm-to-table food

To Oliver

Tell me again why aren't we real dating?

"Something funny?" Killian's voice makes me jump.

I lower my phone and stare up at him from where I'm sitting on the bed. As part of his new wardrobe, Killian has also bought gray sweatpants, which should be banned from hot men's closets all over the world. They just don't give us poor ladies a fair chance. Killian gives off professional athlete vibes in his white T-shirt, gray pants, and crew socks. Leaning against the wall in a macho pose, he looks like he belongs on a billboard sports ad, not in my living room.

He arches an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I ask.

Am I ogling too hard?

"I asked if you were looking at something funny?"

"Oh, that, no, I'm just texting."

"Who?" The single-word question comes off a little territorial.

"Err, my other fake boyfriend," I reply, feeling slightly guilty for no good reason.

Killian tilts his head with a wry twist of his lips. "You have a second fake boyfriend?"

"Technically, I was fake dating him first! I'm very in demand as a fake girlfriend. It's the real thing that I'm not good at."

Killian gives me such an intense look but doesn't comment. "Why are you fake dating him?"

"Relax, I'm just doing him a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

My phone vibrates again, but I don't look at the screen. "It's basically so his family will stop sending him on random blind dates."

"That all?" Killian asks, unconvinced.

"Not the whole reason. But I can't tell you everything because it's personal to him. And he's asked me not to share."

"Mmmph."

"It's nothing romantic, don't worry."

Killian's eyes narrow, a shadow crossing his face before he smooths it into a nonchalant expression, heading into the kitchen.

And am I horrible for relishing the fact that Killian is a little jealous?

I stare down at the last text Oliver sent, replying to my question about why we're not real dating, and laugh my head off.

From Oliver

Because then I'd have to share my desserts, and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment

I reply with one of the most vicious "coupled humans' wisdom" pearls.

To Oliver

Aww, Oliver, I think it's so great you're happy being alone! I really don't know how you do it…

From Oliver

*eye rolling emoji*

Walked right into that one, didn't I?

I can't stop smiling as I reply.

To Oliver

Yep

As I look up from the screen, I find Killian's gray eyes of steel locked on me.

"You like this dude?" he asks. "Because if I'm wasting my time here, I'd rather know."

And he's gone alphahole on me again. But in all fairness, if he was texting some other woman—a fake girlfriend—and laughing his head off, I'd be pretty jealous, too.

"It's completely innocent, I swear," I reassure him.

Killian doesn't look reassured. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down. "So, nothing ever happened between you two?"

"We kissed once, but there was no spark."

The frown deepens. "When was this?"

"Last weekend?"

If this were a romantasy novel, shadows would be pooling around Killian for how pissed he looks. "You mean the same weekend you were kissing me?"

Technically, he's right. But in my defense, I still thought he was an imaginary book boyfriend. "Killian." I sigh. "A week ago, I was convinced you weren't real." I tap my temple. "You were just a fantasy in my head. A dream."

He surprises me by letting go of the possessive attitude as he comes crouching down on the floor next to the bed in front of me. He places his big hands on my thighs and all the air leaves my lungs.

"What about your feelings for me?" he asks, only open sincerity on his face. "Did you ever think those weren't real?"

And the way he's looking at me, like an open book—pun intended—I can't give him anything but the honest truth. "No, my feelings have always been real. That was what scared me so much, that I was falling for someone who didn't exist. And also why I went on a date with him, to sort of get over you."

"And now that I'm here?" Killian's voice is soft, his eyes searching mine for an answer as his hands gently squeeze my thighs, a reassuring pressure that sends a jolt through me.

"Now that you're here… it's complicated," I confess, my gaze drifting to where his hands rest on my thighs, feeling the warmth of his touch seep through the fabric of my leggings.

"Why?"

"This is all so new for you. You have to find your footing in this world, discover who you really are before you can decide I'm someone you'd like to share the journey with."

"Okay, and what about you?"

"Same. I only know Killian St. Clair, the cowboy billionaire, but I want to get to know Oswald Finch, the bartender and mascot stealer."

He arches that flawless eyebrow again. "You're really getting a kick out of using my fake name."

"Wouldn't you? If I suddenly had to be called Gertrude Quagmire?"

"All right, Gertrude. Can I make only one request?"

I tilt my head. "What request?"

"That if you don't date me, you also don't date anyone else? Or at least that if you start dating someone you tell me because?—"

I silence him, pressing a finger over his perfect mouth. "I don't want to date anyone else."

Even under my finger, he smiles. He reaches for my hand and pulls it away from his mouth, kissing the tip of my finger first. "I don't want to date anyone else either."

"So we're non-dating exclusively?" I smile, trying to control the racing of my pulse. "That's new."

Killian grins now. "I'm doing it only to save you all that friends-to-lovers pining."

I laugh now. "Sure you are."

As our laughter subsides, Killian's expression turns serious. His eyes lock with mine, and I can see the intensity in his gaze.

"Gertrude," he breathes, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "This is definitely complicated and there's a lot we don't know, but I'm all in. I'm here for you, no matter what it takes. And more than anything, I want to learn about the real you."

A lump forms in my throat, threatening to choke me as his words sink in. "Same here, Oswald, same here."

Monday is another all-too-real day. Frustrating meeting with my advisor, check. Teaching a pack of half-asleep students in class, check. An afternoon of research in the CS lab, also check. The only thing keeping me sane is that Killian will be home tonight. He worked a day shift today, so we're going to have dinner together.

I get to the apartment before him and sit at my desk to work some more as I wait for him to get home. He arrives after an hour. The door opens. I hear fabric shuffling as he removes his jacket, then the tumble of boots on the hardwood.

"Hey, you," he says.

I turn to find Killian casually leaning against the column at the end of the kitchen bar. His body is slightly turned to one side. Right arm bent at the elbow, with his hand resting on the back of his head, while his left hand is coolly sunk into his jeans pocket. He's gazing directly at me.

I swallow. "Hey."

His mouth curls up at the corners. "Just hey? Shouldn't you at least swoon a little?"

"Why?"

He beams at me, raising both eyebrows in an impossibly cute frown. "I'm leaning against a wall."

If I snapped a picture and posted it on BookTok, I'm pretty sure it'd go viral. He's the epitome of every hot book boyfriend ever leaning on random surfaces.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Have you been reading my smut?"

He jerks his chin toward my bookshelf. "You have quite the selection. Lots of inspiring ideas."

I blush because some books on that shelf are level five spicy. Then, before I get some ideas to test exactly how good Killian would be at level five spicy stuff, I deflect. "You have your fly open."

He looks down at his jeans. "Yeah, about that. I think the dryer in the basement is a bit too aggressive. My clothes are shrinking."

"Or maybe eating three cinnamon buns for breakfast every day is catching up with you, and you're gaining weight."

"Nah, impossible. I never worked out a day in my life and always stayed in perfect shape."

I throw my head back and laugh at that. "Yeah, maybe in the fictional world. But in the cruel real world, if you eat your weight in pastries and never exercise, you can kiss your six-pack goodbye."

"Oh, so you've noticed my six-pack?" He grabs the only other folding chair in the house and drags it next to my desk. He opens it with a flick and sits on it backward, his elbows resting on the backrest.

Have I noticed his six-pack? I pretend to mull the question over, drumming my fingers on the table. "Hmm, I might have."

Killian raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "How come you're so fit, then? You eat the buns as well."

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. My body is average by any definition, nothing to do with his statuesqueness.

"I only eat one cinnamon bun for breakfast, not three. I walk a lot to and around campus and back. And I go to the gym three times a week."

"You go to the gym? When?"

"In the morning, between work and classes." I swivel slightly in my chair to face him more directly.

"Then you have to bring me. I have to try this exercise thing."

"Are you sure? I have a body pump class tomorrow morning if you want to join, or do you just want to use the treadmill?"

"Nah, the treadmill seems boring." He dismisses the suggestion with a wave of his hand. "I'll go with the body pump."

"It can be really intense for a beginner."

"I think I can handle it."

Fast forward twelve hours, and Killian is lying down on the gym floor panting, utterly destroyed.

As the other patrons of the class slowly file out of the room, I sit in butterfly pose next to him and offer him my water bottle.

He takes it, still chuffing. "I should've gone on the treadmill. Exercising sucks."

I smile. "It's an acquired taste. But you'll feel so much better after."

Killian groans, pulling up on his elbows. "I hope so. Right now I feel like I've been through a spin cycle on a washing machine except I ended up the opposite of clean." He dries his face on his T-shirt and I do my best to ignore the still very much present washboard abs.

"If you don't like training, maybe you don't even like sex in this world."

Why did I just say that?

Killian tilts his head toward me, eyes twinkling. "Want to help test that theory?"

The way my heart was pumping blood at top speed during the workout is nothing compared to the way it hammers in my chest now. "Did we have sex in your world? You never told me."

He smiles mysteriously. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would."

Killian hops up on his feet. "I think I need a shower."

"Why aren't you answering me?"

As Killian makes his way toward the locker rooms, his mischievous grin still intact, I scramble to my feet and follow closely behind him.

"This is the way to the men's locker rooms," he chides me.

"Why are you refusing to answer me about the sex stuff?" I ask again.

He shrugs and disappears where I can't follow.