Being single wasn't as easy as people thought it was.

Not when your ex-boyfriend was at your doorstep, asking you to date him again. Well, to my rest my case, I had said no to him. But then with the most puppy dog faced expression he had asked me to fake date him.

"Hello?" I heard Rebecca aka my best friend say through the phone. Whom I was currently supposed to be fighting with, because she had stolen two Oreos from me last week.

It was a sin that couldn't be forgiven.

"Rebecca, hi," I mumbled, feeling a little ashamed that I had called her after full two days.

"Thanks for calling! Do you finally forgive me?" Her high pitched voice and obvious sarcasm instantly warmed my insides and I settled back in my pillows.

"Forgive you? How can you even think about it Reb? You stole two bloody Oreos! " I said with fake anger and I could literally imagine her rolling her baby blue eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Spill it."

"Spill what?" I asked in a tiny voice.

"Ty baby, I have known you for the six years we have been staying in the boarding school. Do you really expect me to believe you are not stressing over something, again?"

God, I had to give her a prize or something for her Sherlock skills.

"Fine. To put it simply... " I stalled.

"Yes?" She urged me on.

"Francis came back." I bit my lip and already winced, anticipating her colorful words.

"That idiot bastard is back? Didn't think it was enough to fuck up your life once? I'm going to hang him upside down and slap him with all his sweet cakes for all I care!" She took in a rushed breath and I knew she could rant the whole night if she wanted, so I quickly interjected.

"He's getting married, Reb."

"He's what?"

"Getting married!" I shouted back, and then quieted down as I remembered the four boys on my floor. Oh, just wait till I tell her that. She'll freak out as if Tom Cruise had moved into my house.

"Not to you, I suppose?"

"God, no! It's someone from their business. Like an arranged marriage."

"Well, he deserves it, I mean, he left you in pieces! Even when your dad died, he—" Rebecca stopped at the sharp intake of my breath at the mention of my dad.

I bit the insides of my cheek, and said for the umpteenth time, "It was not his fault." A nervous energy built up inside me, and I took more breaths to calm myself down.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to say that. Defend him all you want, Ty." Her words had an exasperated ring to it. It made me feel guilty, but I listened to her all the same, "You can't make me stop hating him."

"My dad's gone, it's the truth. Not saying anything about it won't go away. So, stop apologizing."

"I know but--"

"The reason I called you is because Francis asked me to fake date him." I cut her off and her gasp was loud enough to make me cringe.

"OMG! What?! Why?"

I suppressed a giggle at her reaction. She always seemed to switch to text language when she got super excited or uneasy. "He doesn't want to get married, obviously. So, he asked me to fake date him and shoo off his fiancé or something."

"And you said yes to him, didn't you? Tyler you could have done better than that! I'm going to rip him apart, I swear. Cheap womanizer."

"God, let me finish! I didn't say yes to him! I-I don't need him anymore," I said it, and I felt it. It had been more than an year since we had broken up and almost two years since he had gone back to France. We both had changed a lot and had heaps of misunderstandings between us, which neither of us wanted or bothered to clear. I had made up my mind to keep it just like that.

"Hello?" I asked as I heard silence from the other side. Frowning, I checked the call to see if we were still connected. We were. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, are you crying?" I heard another sniff before she denied it. "Stop lying."

"I'm so moved. You have grown up so much Ty Bear!" She half-giggled and half-sniffed, her voice sounding drowned out. I giggled with her, heat climbing up my ears because I knew this was a big step for me.

Still, I rolled my eyes. This girl and her bucket full of tears.

"But there's a tiny glitch still left," I said hesitantly.

"Which is?"

***

The moment I hung up the phone, panic settled at the base of my stomach. We had talked for over thirty minutes, and I had conveniently forgotten to spill the beans about the four handsome men residing at my house. For now, I had to wait for the day she would get a sniff of this amazing secret and I would be dead. Ha-ha.

Shaking off that thought, I replayed the conversation I had with Francis in my head. Right from where he had popped out that unnerving question.

"Will you fake date me this time?"

"Fake date you?" I stuttered. There was no trace of the comfort and childish playfulness that we both had shared before. A cold, empty, and hard shell was all that left, taking all the warmth away we felt when we were near each other.

"Yes, love. It's the only way to not get married. I have tried everything from bribing her to nitpicking on her," he replied.

I winced inside for the poor soul who had to face such heart-breaking situations. How sad she must be? To have a fiance who wanted nothing but to get rid of you? "You tried everything?" I mumbled out. The sound of desperation was evident in Francis's voice. However pitiful that girl might be, I knew I had to help him instead of her. Though one problem remained...

Could I bear to let him in my life again? Even when he wasn't the same person that I once used to know? He must have traveled all the way here to ask for my help, another voice in my head countered. I groaned in frustration, and tried not to give into old habits and mess up my hair with my hands.

"Francis... " I started, and he looked up expectantly, "I'd like to think about it more before I make a decision?" My statement ended up as a question, seeking his approval.

He nodded, satisfied that I had not outright rejected him.

Though what should be my decision?

Talking to Rebecca had only proved my worst fears. His coming back was not a good thing for me. Neither it was healthy. Only if my mother knew what had happened, she would have never let Francis back into this house, forget life. But could I bear to tell her the truth?

That night, sleep came with trouble to me. I twisted and turned, my mind swirling with all the thoughts.

I can't just let him into my life again. It's already complicated enough with all the four boys living in my house.

It's just a fake relationship, what harm can it do?

Mess up her fiance's life forever? Could I take the responsibility of doing that to someone?

Or should I follow Rebecca's advice?

When morning finally came, I was half-drowsy and half-irritated at my own state. I bathed with a burning ferocity, almost scalding with the hot water in process. My skin looked almost as red as my hair, and feeling down, I dressed in all black. My mother met me downstairs, and immediately called me over.

"Good morning, Ty! You're up early today." She hugged me, and patted my back. Pulling back, she grinned. "Help me and get two extra cartons of milk?"

"Oh, okay, is something special today?" I asked, tucking a hair behind my ear as a huge yawn broke out on my face.

"Nothing much, I just have this huge order of wedding cake to complete." Her beaming expression brightened my mood, and I grinned. "So, I feel it's better to be safe than sorry and have extra ingredients ready."

"Really? Great work!" I laughed, happy to see her happy, and went out, grabbing my phone and purse.

Ten minutes later as I entered the kitchen with the cartons, I saw Brandon and my mother talking inside. I tried to catch a glimpse of Brandon's face, but as soon as heard me stepping into the kitchen, he froze for a second and went out in a flurry.

Damn.

"Here. What happened?" I handed her the milk cartons in the jute bag we used, since they were more environment friendly and bio-degradable, and my mother was always the one to worry about the nature.

"Huh? Brandon wants to talk to you, go meet him," she answered dejectedly, and went back to her work.

I frowned, but followed with what she said and went back inside the house. Brandon stood in front of my room, his hands in his pockets and his expression unreadable. I took the last few steps on the stairs and walked to him. "Mom said you wanted to talk to me?"

He looked uncomfortable, and it was too obvious that he was avoiding meeting my eyes.

Well, I won't give him a chance to run away. "Do you want to come inside?"

"Huh?" His blank expression turned bewildered, and realizing a little late, he shut his mouth close.

Suppressing my smile, I repeated slowly, "Do you want to come inside?" I pointed my hand towards the direction of my room, and he relaxed.

"Yeah." He nodded. I copied the gesture and opened the door. We both got in and proceeded to sit. A small panic attack assaulted me when I realized that I didn't have a chair or even a bean bag in my room to sit on except the bed.

Something you only realize when you're with a hot teenage boy in your bedroom.

Wait, did I just think that?

"Ty, I was meaning to say this to you. And I already got scolded by my mom and your mom for this." He stalled, making me look at him. Both of us awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed, so this awkward pause only heightened the awkward meter. He looked in the other direction, and I noticed that his ear was tinged pink. Then he said the magic words. "I'm sorry for being an ass."

I repeated his words in my head, a warm rush greeting me as the meaning behind them finally registered in my mind. From the corner of my eyes, I looked at him. I don't know why but at that moment, he looked like a blushing school boy.

A series of giggles build up inside me at my twisted thoughts, and like popping a bubble, my laughter rushed out. Brandon whipped his head towards me, his expression as if he was seriously doubting my sanity.

"Do you really think you could have made me upset by acting like you were PMSing?" I asked between my laughs, and playfully punched him, making him frown in return.

"You were not upset? But I was so rude to you and practically ignored you yesterday," he countered.

"Well, it did make me sad. But I figured you would have some reasons. It's not like I am your mom or anything."

"Is that so? Your mom told my mom about my injury, and she lectured me for over an hour this morning. And when she found out what I did to you, she almost had my murder planned."

"Your m-mom?" I asked, suddenly nervous and peeved out. His mom knows my mom and me?

"Yeah, she called me yesterday, about planning a trip here to watch my competition, and it only made me miserable thinking that I might not be able to perform." Brandon sighed, making me feel a little guilty at his dejected silhouette.

"So, I was obviously grumpy the whole day, because I couldn't tell her the truth and I kind of took out all the frustration on you." He rubbed the back of his neck, and his lips had a slight pout.

"I'm sorry that my mom spilled your beans."

"That's what you have to say after that? It had to happen sooner or later anyways, considering they are reaching the 'best friends' stage."

"Wait, hold on right there. How do they even know each other?"

"Huh? Don't you know that my mom's a wedding planner and we always order cakes from your bakery? That's how I picked up my decorating skills, by the way." He added, twirling his fingers around in a creepy sort of way, before giving a laugh. I tilted my head, and he explained further. "You always need to have some few handy talents up your sleeve to save the day."

He grinned and winked at the same time and my mind swirled with information overload. My mom was Brandon's mom's new BFF?

Talk about plot twists.

"Actually, Brandon there was something I was meaning to ask you," I said, changing the topic and feeling a little confident now.

He would agree right? The idea wasn't that crazy.

"Yeah?"

"It's about Francis," I mumbled.

"That French Stick? And, oh yeah, I heard from Seth, who probably overheard you. Did that stick propose to you?" Brandon stated and looked at me with questioning eyes.

French Stick? Nice nickname.

"Proposed? Ha-ha." I forced out a laugh, my cheeks and ears feeling hot. Only trust Seth to have such wonderful imagination.

"So, he really did?" Brandon didn't hide his disappointment as he got up and I immediately clutched his hand before he could move away.

"Of course, he didn't! Why would you think that? I'm still in high school for God's sake!" Seriously, teenagers and their overworked mind these days.

"You're not marrying him then? Or dating?" I shook my head, but he looked unconvinced.

"I swear, Brandon." For some reason, Brandon grinned at me and plopped back on the bed, making me bounce as he did so. I blinked and resumed the conversation. "I had a favor to ask. Will you help me out?"

"Yeah, sure." He gave me a heart-warming smile, and I was sure that my heart skipped a beat. If only looks could kill.

"The thing is, Francis, the 'French Stick'... is getting married and asked me to date him again." Brandon's eyes turned wide as I started explaining my situation to him. He listened to me without speaking a word, but his face went darker by the minute, showing his true emotions.

"What do you want me to do? Beat the shit out of him?" he asked, balling his hands into a fist. I immediately shook my head. He looked angry and I didn't need to guess to whom that anger was directed towards .

"No! Can you please...date him for me instead?"

"Come again?" He let out a snort but at my serious expression stopped short.

"Date Francis..." I whispered, trailing off.

"Are you out of your mind? Why would I date that stick-like boy?!" Brandon asked, getting up and pacing around.

Why I was stupid enough to even consider it? Of course, he wouldn't want to help me out.

"No, Brandon! Please, listen. If he wants to get the girl off of his back, what better way than to show that he's gay?" Rebecca had given me the perfect way out this time, so I tried to convince Brandon. I could see the whole scenario painted inside my head and I knew that it would work out beautifully, if only Brandon agreed.

"You need a doctor, girl! Why would I possibly help him?" Brandon's eyes showed the incredulous-ness of this situation.

"Please? Only you can help me, or else, you see, I c-can't say no to him. I would just agree to date him." I bit my lip.

Contrary to what I expected, Brandon was furious. "Why would you date him? It's his problem! Not yours! And you can't d-date him, because, because.. " I nodded my head at him to continue and he groaned aloud.

I waited for his reason in expectant silence.

"Oh. fuck it! I'll fake date that asshole for you!" He kicked my bed in frustration. I would have reprimanded him, but this time, I didn't mind one bit.

Excited by the idea, I stood up in a rush. "You would?" I said, a grin breaking out on my face. I couldn't contain my giddiness as Brandon whined.

"Don't make me repeat myself, lady," he grumbled.

"Hehe, okay." I giggled, suddenly feeling very light and happy. Out of blue, for him and him, I took a step forward, and hugged him. His body went rigid, making me pull back shortly. Though that still didn't make the smile wipe off my face.

"But I won't kiss him and shit." Brandon warned as he looked down at me, his green eyes looking at me in amusement.

"Okay!" I shouted and grinned so widely that my mouth hurt. Brandon shook his head, ruffled my hair and started walking out of the door.

"Just what a guy would do for a girl," he muttered something which sounded suspiciously like that, before he slammed the door shut.

"Thank you!" I shouted for him to hear.

I laughed and laid back on my bed, picked up my phone and started dialing Francis's new number, to explain this brilliant idea to him.

****

Did any one of you expect this outcome? No Tyler didn't say yes, or even no! She just proposed a very brilliant idea, lol.