Fake Dating My Protective Captain

Scout POV

Three years. It's been three years since Dad died and left me with an impossible choice. Take the scholarship he'd set up for his "son" and pretend to be someone I'm not, or give up on college altogether.

The irony wasn't lost on me that Dad had always been so proud of his tomboy daughter, the one who could fix engines and wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. He just never imagined that those same qualities would help me pass as his "son" when I needed his money most.

I tiptoed down the hallway toward the bathroom, clutching my shower stuff and clean clothes. The fourth floor of Eastwood was dead quiet except for the soft sound of pages turning in Caspian's room—my roommate and the football team captain who never seemed to sleep.

Thank God this floor is basically empty. Most of the rich kids had bailed for fancy off-campus apartments, leaving us scholarship students to deal with this ancient dorm. Not that I minded—it meant I could shower without constantly watching my back.

I pushed open the bathroom door and looked around. Empty, just like I'd hoped.

This time of night was usually safe. Caspian never went to bed before 1 AM, and the handful of other guys on our floor were either out partying or already crashed.

"Perfect," I whispered, slipping inside and locking the door behind me.

I started pulling off my oversized hoodie and the sports bra I'd been wearing all day. Every night felt the same—relief mixed with pure terror. Twenty minutes. That's all I got to be myself, to see the real me in the mirror before I had to put the mask back on.

The hot water felt amazing against my skin. I'd been looking forward to this all day after hunching over my thermodynamics textbook for hours. For a few precious minutes, I could just exist without worrying about binding my chest or deepening my voice or—

Then the water turned ice cold.

"What the hell—" I gasped, scrambling for the faucet.

But the handle wouldn't move. The valve was completely stuck, and freezing water kept pouring down while the steam started clearing out.

No, no, no. Not now. Not when I'm naked and there are people awake down the hall..

I yanked at the handle again. Nothing. The metal was old and corroded, probably hadn't been replaced since the Carter administration.

"Help!" I called out, grabbing the shower curtain and wrapping it around myself. "The shower's stuck!"

Footsteps in the hallway, getting closer. My heart was beating like crazy as I wrapped the thin plastic around myself.

"Scout? You okay in there?"

Caspian's voice, low and worried, right outside the door.

"The shower won't turn off!" I tried to keep my voice steady. "I think something's broken!"

"I'm coming in. I have the master key."

Shit. Of course he had the master key—team captains got all kinds of perks. I needed him to fix this, but if he saw anything he shouldn't...

Is there enough steam left? Please let there be enough steam left.

The door opened and Caspian walked in with a toolbox. The bathroom was still foggy, but not nearly as much as I would've liked. He kept his eyes on the shower fixtures, deliberately not looking my way.

"Where's the problem?" he asked, all business, his voice strictly business.

"The valve. It's totally stuck."

He moved toward the showerhead and started checking the pipes. I pressed against the back wall, hidden behind the curtain, praying he could fix it fast.

Just as he reached up to work on the valve, a draft caught the edge of the curtain.

I watched Caspian's hand freeze completely. His whole body went stiff, but he was facing away so I couldn't see his face.

Did he see something? He's acting weird. Maybe it's just harder to fix than he thought. Stay calm, Scout.

"How's it going?" I asked, trying to sound normal.

He cleared his throat and kept working. "Almost got it. Just need to... there."

The water finally stopped. The sudden quiet was deafening.

"Thanks, Caspian. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem," he said, but his voice sounded tight. "I'll let you finish up. Just give the handle a shake if it acts up again."

He packed his tools lightning fast, never once turning around.

"Goodnight, Scout."

"Goodnight."

The door clicked shut. I could finally breathe again.

Later, I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Even though I'd gotten dressed and put my game face back on, something still felt off.

Caspian was acting strange tonight.

Usually when he fixed stuff around here, he'd crack jokes about the ancient plumbing or complain about the university's cheap maintenance. Tonight he barely said two words. And he bolted out of there like his pants were on fire.

The walls in Eastwood were paper-thin. I could hear pretty much everything next door. Usually by now, Caspian would be settled in with a book or his laptop. Instead, I could hear him pacing.

Is he having trouble sleeping too? Maybe he's stressed about practice tomorrow. Being team captain isn't exactly a walk in the park. Don't overthink this, Scout.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed tonight.

The way he'd said "Goodnight, Scout" before leaving—there was something different in his tone. Something I'd never heard before.

More shuffling through the wall. Then footsteps.

He's definitely not sleeping either. We're both lying here wide awake like something shifted, but I can't figure out what.

I rolled over and tried to clear my head, but my brain kept replaying the whole scene. The moment Caspian had stopped working. How fast he'd rushed out. And now this restless energy coming from his room.

Until I heard him tossing and turning on the other side of the wall, I hadn't realized just how much tonight had shaken both of us. And somehow, that made me even more nervous.