Fake dating my enemy, The playboy billionaire

JUNJIE

It's Sunday, my new flatmate is about to join me any moment. You can always trust me for taking stressful decisions at the drop of a hat. *Insert eye roll*

Yiren grates on my nerves and I have no fkng idea how we are going to survive under one roof. Maybe we can. After all, we didn't turn Z's house into a haunted house. The faulty electrical line in my apartment was fixed the next day of the ladder accident but I chose to stay three more days. The reason behind my actions is still a mystery to me. But not coming to a lonely house, and having company over dinner is the welcoming change.

I wonder if it is not for this never-ending fight between us could we have been friends? To think of that, I have no idea why we are enemies. Is it just that we never moved on from our childish fights over trivial things or it's something else? I have an inkling there's a reason.

Bear nudges his nose at the Lego block between my fingers. "Yeah buddy, doing it." Gently I fix the tiny piece on the Star Wars Razor crest ship I've been making for four months in my free time. It's one of the most challenging 6000-piece Lego set. I have a more difficult 11000-piece Hogwarts castle set which I'll start with my kids once they are here.

The east-facing room is the extension of my condo, giving me the most beautiful view of the city and the only reason I bought this place. I wrap up for the day and Bear wiggles behind me, stopping by the wall. He barks at the guitar eating dust.

"You are turning very demanding." I boop his cute nose, picking him wiggling and barking, trying to get down. "Uff, no more treats for you."

He continued barking at the closed door. In one of the family videos he saw me playing guitar. Since then, whenever we are here he'll demand for it.

Braty.

I would have played it for him, but just now I'm notified by the building security about the arrival of movers and packers.

These little hobbies of mine calm me and help me think with a clear mind. Only my family knows about it. For others, my hobbies are collecting sports cars and sleeping around with women.

Sometimes I wonder why I never let people see this side of my personality. Where I'm a normal human who loves making Legos and plays Guitar. But then I remind myself, I live in a world where every action, every word, and every thought is subject to judgment, it's important to protect the sacred parts of yourself. Keep some pieces of your life hidden away, untouchable by others' opinions, because not everything is meant for the world to see.

'You are a manchild...." Someone's words echo in my ear.

I shake it off.

A knock on the door tells me of the arrival of the devil. And she brings in the tsunami of never-ending boxes. "Are the neighbors moving as well?"

"Can you skip to the part where you do something productive like helping me?" Balancing what seems a very heavy box she deliberately bumps into me so that I have no other option but to hold it.

She bends to give tummy rubs to Bear who won't stop wiggling around her without getting his dose.

She is wearing shorts, with a slightly distressed finish with a crop top, but my eye catches the trendy bandana tied in her hair wrapped around her head, giving her a fun, carefree look. Not sure if I prefer her like this or the sexy siren in red who comes to my office.

I show her around the house, carrying the heavy as fk box. "What's inside? It's damn heavy."

"Books."

"You sure not rocks?"

"Books." Her eyes rake around my condo with the eyes of an architect, judging or marveling I'm not sure.

"That's the kitchen. Feel free to use it. Just don't touch my mug and clean it after you." I put the box on the kitchen counter.

She leans her hip against the counter, "Clean freak?"

"Disciplined." I open the fridge to get a drink and she ducks under my shoulder to check what's in the option. This close, her subtle fragrance of vanilla with the richness of strawberry envelops me in a cozy embrace, capturing my attention. Our fingers flutter over the same bottle of Modelo beer. Our eyes meet and she cracks a smile. "My favorite."

I know. Just don't ask how.

I grab another bottle of the same beer for myself.

I give her a tour of the entire condo, stopping in my bedroom. We both stare at the small door that connects our bedrooms. "Um, that used to be my study. But I have moved everything to the guest room. It has a separate bathroom though."

She is right about my brothers having hawk eyes. If I put her in the guest room they will guess instantly we are faking. This arrangement feels like the best option.

"Umm.... Okay. Okay." She takes a large swig of beer staring at the thin wall that separates our bedrooms. "Okayyyyy."

"I won't intrude on your privacy."

"That's not the issue. I know you are not that kind of a man. It's just—" her lips pinch in a thin line, "It's just—It's not soundproof --- hmm."

I don't know what's going in that brain of hers and what 'hmmm' means but my brain is reeling the line 'I'm not that kind of a man' on repeat. Feels good to know that my enemy thinks highly of me.

"I'll keep this box in the study—"

"Ohh no no no no." She snatches the 'books' box from my hand and passes the beer bottle to me. "It will stay with me.

My eyes narrow, "What exactly is inside?"

"Books."

"I want to see."

"Over my dead body." She turns and carries it to her bedroom. I peek to see but she slides it under the bed with feet.

Hearing the voice of one of the movers I run back within the boundaries of my bedroom. Snatching the beer bottle from my hand she crosses by me back to the living room. I take a sip of my beer as she instructs the boys and my gaze falls on something that shouldn't be here.

"WHAT THE FK?"

"What?" she looks at the hideous black thing that's an eye sore in my perfectly designed house. "That's my comfy couch where I sit to watch TV, read books, and do work on my laptop." She lays flat on it to show how she does it.

The movers sneak glances at each other with pinched lips and flushed cheeks. "LEAVE." They scurry away like ass on fire.

"Yiren!" I groan, "It's S-shaped, black, and is—"

"—very comfortable. I got it in a steal deal for 400$." She sits on her stomach, "Can be used to sit comfortably in different positions. Isn't it cool?"

My sleeping cock twitch seeing her tight ass high in the air. Who is going to tell her this isn't just any couch but a sex chair to try hundred positions?

The worst it's in my house, in my living room and my brothers are going to see it.

Rest in peace, Jun.

*****