CHAPTER THREE- Terms And Conditions
1293 Words
Lucas' POV
The silence didn’t feel awkward.
That was what unsettled me.
Naomi sat across from me, hands folded on the table, eyes steady but cautious. She wasn’t fidgeting. She wasn’t rambling. She wasn’t trying to soften what she’d just said with humour or over-explanation.
She’d asked.
And now she was waiting.
I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking faintly beneath me. My mind felt slower than usual, like it needed a second to catch up with what was happening.
A fake relationship.
The words replayed themselves, this time without her voice attached to them. I tried to imagine the sentence coming from someone else—anyone else—and it immediately sounded absurd.
But from Naomi?
It was unexpected. Not ridiculous.
I studied her more closely. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t hopeful either. If anything, she looked prepared for me to say no.
That alone made me hesitate.
“Pretend,” I repeated finally, just to hear the word out loud.
She nodded once. “Yes.”
“How long is temporarily?” I asked.
She paused. Not long-just enough to tell me she’d thought about this already.
“I don’t know exactly,” she said. “Long enough for things to settle.”
Things.
She didn’t define it, and I didn’t ask her to. Not yet.
I ran a hand over my face and exhaled. This wasn’t the kind of situation I liked finding myself in—unclear, unstructured, hovering somewhere between practical and personal.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I said honestly.
“I know,” she replied immediately. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I thought it was.”
That answer surprised me.
I looked at her again, really looked. Naomi wasn’t pitching a fantasy. She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t selling me anything. She was offering a solution-one she clearly didn’t love but felt she needed.
I pushed my chair back slightly and stood. Not to leave—just to give myself room to think. I walked to the counter, resting my hands against the edge.
Fake dating came with assumptions. Expectations. Lines that blurred whether you wanted them to or not.
And then there was Tessa.
The thought surfaced uninvited.
Her hopeful smile. Her careful persistence. The way “maybe later” had become a placeholder instead of an answer. I hadn’t lied to her, not really,but I hadn’t been honest either.
A fake girlfriend would end that conversation instantly.
The realization didn’t make me feel clever. It made me uncomfortable.
I turned back to Naomi. “Why me?”
She blinked. “What?”
“You could’ve asked someone else,” I said. “A friend. Someone from your course.”
She considered that. “I wanted it to be simple.”
“Pretending to date your roommate isn’t simple.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “But it’s contained. We already share space. We already understand each other’s routines. There’s less explaining.”
I frowned slightly. That logic tracked more than I wanted it to.
“And,” she added after a moment, “I trust you to respect boundaries.”
That landed heavier than I expected.
Trust wasn’t something she owed me. We’d known each other for barely two weeks. The fact that she was extending it anyway made this feel less like convenience and more like a calculated risk.
I sat back down.
“I need to think about this,” I said.
Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. “That’s fair.”
We didn’t talk much after that.
She cleared the table. I rinsed the plates. The air between us felt charged, but not tense—like something unresolved was being carefully set aside for later.
When I went to bed that night, I didn’t fall asleep right away.
I wasn’t anxious. I wasn’t conflicted. I was curious.
Why did she need this badly enough to ask?
I didn’t give her an answer the next morning.
Or the afternoon after that.
We moved around each other carefully, both aware of the question sitting between us like an unopened envelope. She didn’t push. I didn’t avoid her.
That restraint made it harder.
By evening, I’d made up my mind.
Not because I was convinced it would work.
But because I wanted to see where it came from.
She was on the couch when I spoke, her laptop balanced on her knees.
“If we do this,” I said, “we do it properly.”
Her head snapped up.
“That’s not a yes,” I added. “That’s a condition.”
She closed the laptop slowly. “Okay.”
I sat across from her, resting my forearms on my knees.
“First,” I said, “this doesn’t change how we live. We’re still roommates.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“No touching unless it’s necessary,” I continued. “Public settings only. And minimal.”
“Agreed.”
“No sleeping in each other’s rooms.”
“Definitely.”
I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “We don’t lie to each other.”
She met my eyes. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“If this starts feeling uncomfortable,” I added, “we talk about it. Immediately.”
“Yes.”
“And if either of us wants out,” I said, “we end it. No explanations are required.”
She exhaled, like she’d been holding her breath. “That's fair.”
I leaned back. “Public affection only. And only when it serves a purpose.”
“No overdoing it,” she said.
“No improvising.”
She almost smiled at that, then caught herself.
We sat quietly for a moment, the rules settling between us like an agreement neither of us was pretending wasn’t risky.
“So,” I said finally, “why does this need to start?”
She hesitated. “Soon.”
“Tomorrow?”
She thought about it, then nodded. “Tomorrow.”
I stood. “Then tomorrow.”
She stood too, keeping a careful distance.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you,” she said. Not relieved. Just sincere.
I nodded once and went to my room.
Lying in bed later, I stared at the ceiling, listening to the apartment breathe around me.
This wasn’t a mistake.
It also wasn’t harmless.
And as sleep finally crept in, one thought stayed with me longer than the rest.
I hadn’t agreed because it made sense.
I’d agreed because I wanted to know what she wasn’t saying.
Naomi’s POV
I stayed on the couch long after Lucas left the room, trying to make sense of my own racing thoughts.
I’d asked him. I’d really asked him. And he hadn’t said no. Not outright. He’d hesitated, probed carefully, made sure he understood the boundaries-but he hadn’t refused.
A part of me felt relief. Another part felt… vulnerable.
This was supposed to be practical. Temporary. Safe. Controlled. And yet, I couldn’t stop my mind from imagining him agreeing for reasons I couldn’t yet name, reasons I might not want to know.
I picked up the notebook from the table, tracing the inked rules with my finger. Public affection only. No touching unless necessary. Exit clause. No lies between us.
They were clear. They felt safe. And still, my chest tightened.
Because even though the rules existed, the agreement had changed something. Not in him. Not in me. Not yet. But the air between us was charged with potential.
I closed my eyes for a moment. This was supposed to be simple. Logical. Temporary.
And yet, I couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if either of us forgot it was fake first.
- Writer
