Chapter 5

Corrin

I'm freaking the fuck out.

Holy shit.

I have to be dreaming. This can't be reality.

A pinch to my forearm tells me I'm actually not dreaming at all.

Oh, god.

That makes things even more complicated.

When I presented the idea of fake dating Austen to the Page brothers, I expected pushback at the idea. Of course, there was some, though not a ton. We hashed out the pros and cons of it all over dinner and drinks.

To be honest, I let myself go since I knew the two of them wouldn't let anything happen. It would hurt Tennyson as much as it would hurt me if there was some kind of scandal printed about me. He's on my team and feels the same heat I do.

So yeah, I didn't think about the number of drinks I had or if I was saying something out of line. I didn't worry about anything other than hashing out what would make this whole situation better.

Tenn mentioning Austen's issue with people on campus distracting him from his studies and work felt like a sign from the universe. Together, we could fix it all.

I let myself believe it was as easy as that. My guard came down, and I enjoyed a night with my best friend and his brother, who also happens to be the man I've crushed on for far too long.

Everything was fine. It was damn near perfect.

Until the whole nudity on the couch thing. Then there was the whole Austen kissing my forehead moment. And we can't forget the super-hot indecent night clothes my fake boyfriend sported.

I mean… I could see his cock.

Well, not see it.

But I saw a shadow. An outline.

And what a fucking outline.

Dear sweet higher power,

Thank you for blessing my crush with a cock like Thor's hammer.

Sincerely,

A needy bottom

Ok, so it might not be that big, but it was girthy. The curve of the crown alone is going to star in my wet dreams for the next… forever. For forever. There's no getting rid of the image.

My cock, which shouldn't be hard given the amount of alcohol I took in, rises to the challenge. I want — no need — to stroke one out before going back out to the couch. I refuse to walk out of here sporting a woody.

What if he's still out there? I can't let him see me this way. He'll know that this whole fake thing is already affecting me. And then maybe he'll back out.

No. No, he wouldn't.

Even if Austen knew I was aroused at the sight of his slutty sweatpants, he would go through with this plan. He's that good of a guy.

I sigh as I ease down my boxers and wrap my fist around my length. I'll make this short and sweet.

Maybe not sweet.

Filthy is better.

I need to come quickly and quietly.

With my sole focus on fixing this issue, I close my eyes and think of the sight I just witnessed. Austen's big body blocking the door to the bathroom. His thin shirt clinging to tight nipples that were obviously hard. I trail down the memory of him until I reach the band of those sweats.

My fist picks up speed. A whimper escapes without permission. I bite my lip to stop anything else from slipping through.

The picture in my mind shifts to that beautiful monster in his pants. I imagine him rubbing his palm over it as he gives me a salacious look. He'd tell me he doesn't want to fake anything, then he'd tug the band of those sweats down to reveal every glorious inch of skin.

Dream Austen has barely pulled himself free when my orgasm tears through me. I yelp, then bite the fist of my free hand as rivulets of come pour onto the floor.

Godammit. I'm an idiot.

Should have gotten a towel before starting this. Or even aimed it somewhere it could go down the drain. Anything that would have prevented me from needing to clean up the evidence of my downfall.

Because that's all this can be.

The dream of Austen seeing me as more is foolish. He's not into me that way. This is merely a favor.

Stick to the plan, Cor. Nothing more.

With that thought, I go about using the restroom and washing my hands before tucking back into the couch.

My pep talk lasts as long as it takes for my head to hit the pillow. It's then I get a hint of Austen's scent — a soft musk mixed with the mahogany and teakwood lotion I know Tenn gifts him each year for his birthday. Austen made a comment about liking it once, so it's been my best friend's go-to ever since.

I wish I had a guaranteed gift for him like that. Something I knew he liked without a doubt.

Instead, I have a heart full of longing and a fake dating arrangement.

Definitely not the better bargain.

The next morning goes well. Things are stilted with my hangover since I can't keep up with Tenn's jokes as well. Neither Page brother mentions it though.

We eat and drink coffee while I try to decide what comes next.

"Work might be crazy today. I'm not sure how late I'll have to work after class. Corrin, would you like to keep my car today so you can travel as you need?" Austen asks right as I take a sip of my drink.

His voice comes out even and steady, which makes the spit take I give even more awkward. I avoid looking at him as I mop up the mess, then I take a breath before answering.

"I think Tenn could probably keep me company and drive me around if need be. There's no reason you need to be without a vehicle."

Tennyson chuckles. "While that's true, you're forgetting something."

I raise my brow to signal him to continue.

"We're dating, Corrin," Austen says instead. "How is anyone going to know this fact if we don't go out together in public? You taking me to school will help with that."

"Oh." My reply is stilted. I feel stupid for not thinking of that. I let my lusty thoughts take over, and in an effort to try to avoid time alone with him, I overcompensated.

We have to be alone together at some point anyway. Tenn can't chaperone us. Not when he thinks this is fake on both sides.

I mean, it is. I know that.

This is fake.

It's just the feelings on my side that are real.

"Ok, so we drive to campus and hope people see us. Or do I need to get out and walk you to class?"

Austen shrugs before scooping another bite of oatmeal. "Probably the latter is best. What are you comfortable with PDA wise? Should we kiss or hold hands? I'm not sure the level of escalation this should take as a first outing."

My jaw drops right as Tenn cackles.

"On that note, I'm out. I'm going to the co-working site today to get a few projects done. You two discuss your PDA stuff without me." He leaves the room without another word.

When it's just me and Austen left, I focus on his expression to see if I can read him. I need to know what he's thinking about this before I give an answer.

"We'll only do what you're comfortable with. I don't want to push you. I know you're not really into…" I let my voice trail off since I don't want to offend him. I don't know what he's into period. Like at all. It's a mystery to me at this point.

He doesn't answer at first. It's not until he finishes his food that he turns to me.

"I welcome whatever you feel is best. While I may not be all that familiar with relationships in general the way you are, I have kissed others. They were women, and it was unpleasant, but I doubt you'll be the same. I know you won't let it be."

It's the highest praise he could give me, albeit strangely worded.

"You've kissed someone before?" I ask for clarification.

He nods. "Yes. Two girls. Both when I was younger, and it was nothing to write home about."

Tennyson comes out of the bedroom at that moment, then waves before disappearing out the front door. I let it click shut, answering his original statement with caution.

"If we do this, you have to tell me when you're uncomfortable. Most relationships do involve some level of PDA. Since we're so unbalanced in size," I motion between us, "holding hands wouldn't really work. Typically, you'd probably wrap your arm around me or something instead."

He nods slowly, taking in each word like I'm giving a class lecture.

"And kissing?"

"You could lead. I'm comfortable with whatever you want to try. Today could just be the closeness and maybe next time we —"

My words cut off when he abruptly stands from the table. He moves around to my side, his large body hovering over mine like the giant he is.

"Stand up, Corrin," he says calmly.

I do as he requests without a single second of hesitation. Even if I wanted to rebel, I couldn't. It's as if my body is linked to his commands.

The second I'm standing; his hands move up to cup my face. He holds me like we've done this a thousand times, like we're real lovers and we're having a normal couple-y morning together.

Then he kisses me.

It's soft at first, his lips a gentle press against mine.

In the seconds it takes my brain to register that holy fuck I'm kissing Austen; he's changing it up. Gone is the softness. In its place, his tongue glides across my lips, demanding entry. I open as easily as I followed his previous demand to stand.

How does he know how to do this?

How?

It's unreal.

There's nothing he could ask of me that I wouldn't give him right now. Nothing at all.

Our tongues dance to their own rhythm as our bodies press closer together. I can feel myself getting hard as the seconds continue, which seems to be the only thing strong enough to stop the waves of pleasure I'm coasting on.

I yank back quickly, my hips angled awkwardly to ensure he can't feel how hard he's made me.

"You sure it was only two? That kiss…"

Austen doesn't answer me at first. My gaze, which had been firmly planted on his chest, roams up to meet him eye to eye.

I'm taken aback at the lust I see there. His blown pupils and puffy lips. He's a walking ad for sex. His image would sell any product you put next to it.

And still, I'm confused as hell about all of this.

The kiss was meant to straighten things out. We should feel better about it all now, with not a worry about looking awkward in front of others during this charade we signed up for.

But now I'm worried it didn't have the effect we needed.

Now I feel undone before him. Like he's looking into my soul and staring at my deepest secrets.

"It was only two," Austen replies after a long few minutes of silence where only our heaving breaths fill the space. "And yes, that kiss."

Rather than give it an adjective to ease my curiosity, my fake boyfriend turns from me to go to his room. He doesn't act like he's disheveled, and if I hadn't seen his eyes before, I would never know the kiss affected him at all from how he stands.

At his bedroom door, he looks over his shoulder. "I need to leave in half an hour. Can you be ready?"

I nod quickly. "I will be."

Right after I go jack off, shower, and throw on some clothes.

Of course, I don't say that. I just grab my bag and head for the bathroom.

This day has only just begun, yet I feel like I've run a marathon of emotions. If I'm lucky, maybe that will be all there is to it.

If the worst — no, not worst. If the most confusing part of my day is a kiss from my crush, then I'm doing pretty well. And since I'll be alone, I should be able to get some time to write music. I didn't bring my guitar with me in my rush, but that's an easy fix.

I add going to a music shop to my day's plans. As I think about what kind I might acquire this time for my collection, a string of music whips through my mind, it's melody clear as if it were being played aloud.

Searching for a piece of paper in my bag, I hum the melody on repeat. I feel relief with every note I sketch out. It's as if I'm coming back home after a long rough tour on the road.

I'm equal parts encouraged and terrified.

This new music is different than anything I've done before. It's… hopeful.

I'm hopeful.

And it's in that second I realize exactly why my muse is back full force.

Austen fucking Page.

My muse. My demise.

My fake boyfriend.