Just For Now

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - They Were Already Complicated.

Lucas’s POV

Sleep didn’t come easy.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, replaying every second of the conversation in the living room.

I wasn’t pretending.

The words had come out before I could stop them.

It's not a confession.

But close enough.

And the worst part?

She hadn’t looked surprised.

She’d looked… scared.

Not of me.

Of what it meant.

I turned onto my side and checked the time on my phone.

1:42 AM.

The apartment was silent.

Until I heard the faint sound of movement in the kitchen.

I sat up.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it.

Instead, I got up.

When I stepped into the hallway, the kitchen light was already on.

Naomi stood by the sink with a glass of water in her hand.

She looked up when she heard me.

There was a brief pause.

Of course it was us.

Alone.

Again.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Same.”

For a moment neither of us moved.

Then I walked into the kitchen.

She leaned against the counter, arms folded loosely, watching me pour water into a glass.

The silence wasn’t awkward.

It was worse.

It was aware.

“You didn’t have to say that tonight,” she said suddenly.

I looked up. “What?”

“That you weren’t pretending.”

I shrugged slightly. “It was true.”

“I know.”

That made my chest tighten.

She stared down into her glass.

“You realize that complicates things.”

I leaned back against the counter across from her.

“They were already complicated.”

She let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

“That’s not helpful.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

Her gaze lifted again.

The kitchen light caught in her hair, loose from earlier, falling over her shoulder.

For a second, I remembered the restaurant.

Her fixing my collar.

Her hand on my knee.

The way it had felt natural.

Too natural.

“You’re not making this easy,” she said.

“Was it supposed to be?”

Her jaw tightened slightly.

“You know what I mean.”

I did.

But I didn’t answer.

The quiet stretched again.

Then, she set her glass down on the counter.

“You said something earlier,” she said slowly. “About not knowing when it stopped being fake.”

“Yeah.”

She looked straight at me now.

“When do you think that was?”

I considered the question.

There were a dozen possible answers.

The first movie night.

The morning she fell asleep on the couch.

The time she showed up with takeout because she knew I’d had a bad day.

The rooftop.

But the real answer slipped out before I could filter it.

“I think it stopped being fake when I started noticing the little things.”

Her expression shifted.

“What little things?”

“The way you hum when you’re cooking.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“The way you read the last page of a book first,” I continued.

Her mouth parted.

“And the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous.”

Her hand moved instinctively toward her hair.

Then, it stopped halfway.

Silence.

Thick and heavy.

She looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or run.

“You pay too much attention,” she said softly.

“Apparently.”

Another quiet beat passed.

Then she said something I wasn’t expecting.

“You never asked me the same question.”

“What question?”

“When it stopped being fake for me.”

Something shifted in my chest.

“And?”

She held my gaze for a long moment.

Then she shook her head lightly.

“No.”

I frowned. “No?”

“You don’t get that answer tonight.”

“Why not?”

Her smile was small. Dangerous.

“Because you’re already too confident.”

“I’m not confident.”

She tilted her head. “You just listed three habits I didn’t realize you noticed.”

“Observation isn’t confidence.”

“Sure.”

The teasing should have eased the tension.

Instead, it sharpened it.

She pushed away from the counter.

“Goodnight, Lucas.”

But this time, when she walked past me, her shoulder brushed mine deliberately.

Not accidental.

Intentional.

She paused at the hallway entrance.

Then glanced back.

“Sleep,” she said.

I exhaled slowly after she disappeared into her room.

Sleep?

Not a chance.

Because now I know two things.

One,

It wasn’t one-sided.

And two,

Naomi knew exactly what she was doing.

Naomi’s POV

Closing my door didn’t calm my heart.

If anything, it made it worse.

Because Lucas was right.

It hadn’t stopped being fake tonight.

It hadn’t stopped on the rooftop.

It had stopped weeks ago.

I sank onto the edge of my bed and covered my face with my hands.

The problem wasn’t that I didn’t feel it.

The problem was that I did.

Too much.

Lucas noticed everything.

That was dangerous.

Because if he noticed the small things…

How long before he noticed the big ones?

Like the way my stomach flipped when he smiled.

Or the way my chest tightened when another girl looked at him too long.

Or the way tonight—

When Hannah said we looked like a real couple—

I didn’t hate the idea.

I leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling.

This arrangement had rules.

Clear ones.

Simple ones.

Fake dating.

Temporary.

Convenient.

Safe.

Falling for your roommate wasn’t safe.

And Lucas?

Lucas looked like someone who could ruin every carefully built wall I had.

I turned off the lamp and lay down.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

Because for the first time since this arrangement started…

I wasn’t worried about the lie anymore.

I was worried about the truth.