Page 19 of Faking the Rules

"Goodbye, James," I say softly. Final. Definitive.

He hesitates a moment longer, then turns and walks toward a rental car parked nearby. I watch him go, an odd emptiness settling in my chest—not grief or longing, but the strange lightness of a burden finally, completely released.

Only when his taillights disappear around the corner do I realize I'm trembling. Declan's arms come around meimmediately, pulling me against his chest in an embrace that feels like shelter.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle against my hair.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "That was... unexpected."

"I'm sorry about the kiss," he says, pulling back slightly to look at me. "I should have asked first. It just seemed like the fastest way to make him understand."

The kiss. Right. Another performance, another tactical move in our elaborate charade. Not real. Not meaningful. Just like everything else between us.

"It's fine," I say, stepping out of his embrace. "It worked. He's gone."

Declan studies me, concern evident in his eyes. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"No," I say with surprising certainty. "He got his closure. That's all he really wanted."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Declan asks again, his hand reaching for mine. "You're still shaking."

"Just cold," I lie. "And tired. It's been a long night."

"Let me walk you up," he offers.

"That's not necessary."

"Ellie." His voice softens. "After everything tonight—my family, your ex showing up... just let me make sure you get to your room safely, okay? It's not part of our deal, it's just... what I need to do right now."

The raw honesty in his voice silences my objections. I nod wordlessly, allowing him to guide me into the building and up the stairs to my floor. We stop outside my door, an uncomfortable silence falling between us.

"Thank you," I say finally. "For tonight. For everything."

"Don't thank me," he says, his expression troubled. "I'm the reason you had to deal with all of this—my parents, the pressure, the performance."

"You couldn't have known James would show up," I point out.

"No, but—" He breaks off, running a hand through his hair in frustration, as if he wants to say more.

"We knew this would be challenging," I say, striving for a practical tone. "But we're making it work. Your coach believes it. Your teammates believe it. Even your parents believe it. That's what matters, right?"

"Right," he agrees, but there's a hesitation in his voice that matches the uncertainty in my own heart. "That's what matters."

We stand there a moment longer, the air between us heavy with unspoken words, with questions neither of us is brave enough to ask. I'm acutely aware of my body's response to his proximity—heart racing, skin tingling with the memory of his kiss, a strange hollow ache forming low in my abdomen.

"I don't want you to be alone tonight," he says. “I’m going to stay.” He raises his eyebrows, daring me to deny him. He holds up his hands, as if saying he’s not going to push anything further than it’s already gone. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

I know this is a horrible idea. But I nod anyway, unlocking my door and stepping into the dimly lit space of my dorm room.

I say another prayer of thanks to the housing gods that I have a single. Small but private, with a twin bed, desk, and minimal furniture. Declan fills the space immediately, his presence making the room seem even smaller.

"Nice place," he says, clearly trying to ease the sudden tension between us. "Very... academic."

He's not wrong. Books cover nearly every surface, stacked on the desk, the windowsill, the small bookshelf that can't contain my collection. Papers and notes are arranged in neat piles, color-coded according to my meticulous system.

"It's home," I shrug, suddenly self-conscious about the plainness of the space compared to what I imagine his apartment must be like. "For now, at least."

An awkward silence falls. I'm painfully aware that we’ve established that he’s going to stay, but haven't really specified what that means. The bed seems to loom in the corner, a minefield of implication.

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