Fake dating the captain

Chapter13

~Rowan~

The apartment went quiet after the door shut.

I stayed where I was for a bit, staring at the door. I half expected it to open. Zoe to come back in and say something else sharp. Liv to slip back in because she forgot something stupid like her charger or her lip balm or her pride.

None of that happened.

I rubbed my face and exhaled. Slowly. Like that actually worked.

“i***t,” I muttered to nobody.

I went into the kitchen because I didn’t know what else to do. The glass was still on the table. I picked it up, rinsed it, dried it, set it back down. Then I wiped the counter. Then I wiped it again. There was nothing there.

I kept moving anyway.

My cheek still burned. I didn’t touch it. I let it sit. I deserved that part. What I didn’t deserve was how close I’d come to losing control of my mouth.

That scared me more than the slap ever could.

I grabbed my phone off the counter without thinking. My thumb already knew where to go. Her name. Same as every other time tonight.

I typed, I’m sorry.

Stopped.

Deleted it.

That sounded weak. Like I was apologizing, I ROWAN? Never. I wasn’t sorry I cared. I was sorry I yelled. Those weren’t the same thing.

I typed, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.

Deleted that too.

That sounded like a lecture. Like something you say when you’re technically right and emotionally stupid.

I locked the phone. Unlocked it again five seconds later. Opened the chat. Closed it. Tossed the phone onto the couch.

This was why I locked myself in the bathroom earlier.

Not because she hit me.

Because if I kept talking when my head got like that, I would say something that would ruin everything, and I wouldn’t even realize it until it was too late.

I sat down on the couch and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

She slept here once.

Just once.

She’d curled up on the couch like she didn’t take up space anywhere else. Hoodie sleeves covering her hands. Hair a mess. Shoes kicked off by the door like she didn’t plan on staying long.

That was it. One night.

Now she was everywhere.

My hoodie she wore was on the chair like it didn’t belonged here. Her mug was still in the sink because I forgot to wash it. There was a dent in the cushion next to me that my body noticed before my brain did.

I shifted away from it. Then shifted back.

Fake dating wasn’t supposed to do this.

And Liv didn’t beg me into it. That part still pissed me off, the way my brain tried to rewrite it like I was some hero. She was better at it than I was from the start. Calm. Clear. No dramatics. Zoe laid it out like a plan, and I agreed like she was signing off on a work email.

She was the one who hesitated.

She was the one who said, “Let’s think about it,” like I hadn’t already decided.

Zoe treated it like logistics. Boundaries. Time limits. Public rules. Private rules.

Liv treated it like something temporary but necessary.

I treated it like cover.

That’s the part I didn’t say out loud.

I rolled onto my side and pressed my forearm over my eyes.

Liv thought I was helping because I was decent.

Because I didn’t like seeing people get screwed over.

Because I felt bad for her and because I also needed cover.

That wasn’t wrong. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

Her sister came first.

Her twin had walked into my life like she already owned the place. Loud and confidently. Just broken enough to be interesting. She didn’t talk a lot about Liv. But she talked about how Liv’s boyfriend was trash and didn’t deserve her.

I believed her. I wanted to.

We hooked up. We didn’t call it dating, but it was close enough. Late nights. Quiet conversations. Secrets that felt important just because they were secrets.

She liked the attention. I liked feeling chosen.

I should’ve seen it then. We started dating but….

She used me to get reactions. Used me to pass messages. Used me to poke at him from a distance and watch what happened. I told myself it was for me and that I was helping me. I wasn’t.

When she ended it, it was fast. No warning. No emotion. Just a message saying it wasn’t serious and never had been.

Two days later she was with him.

Liv’s boyfriend.

I remembered the way my stomach dropped when I saw it. The stupid heat in my chest. The urge to confront everyone involved and blow it up.

I didn’t.

I waited.

So when Liv came to me later, hurting and confused and trying to keep it together, something in me locked into place. I stepped in too easily. I offered help to Zoe before she finished asking. And I don’t wanna got through the same thing with her sister again or even anyone.

Fake dating slid out of my mouth like it’d been waiting there.

I told myself it was strategy. That it would help her. That it would keep her sister and her boyfriend from controlling the story.

I didn’t say the other part.

That it let me stay close.

That it let me watch.

That it let me get even without looking like the bad guy.

I sat up and rubbed my hands together.

This was supposed to be clean. Controlled and temporary.

Then Liv cried on my couch.

Then she trusted me with things she didn’t tell anyone else.

Then she slapped me tonight and looked wrecked right after, like she hated herself more than she hated me.

I picked up my phone again.

Opened her name.

My thumb hovered.

I wanted to tell her everything. About her sister. About the lies. About why I knew things I shouldn’t. About how fake dating wasn’t fake on my side anymore.

I didn’t type any of that.

Because once I did, I couldn’t pretend this was simple.

And pretending was the only thing keeping me steady.

I locked the phone and set it down.

The realization came slow, like something ugly finally catching up to me.

This wasn’t just about revenge.

I cared. In a way that made my chest tight and my decisions bad. I cared enough that losing her scared me more than telling the truth.

That was the real problem.

Fake dating was easy.

Feelings weren’t.

And I was already in too deep to pretend otherwise.