He slides down into his chair and covers his face with a single hand. “I know. Dammit, I know. Give me a break here. I’ve never done something like this.”

That makes two of us. But this will be excellent practice for fake dating Brandon when Cláudia visits early next month. If I can pretend to date Dean, a virtual stranger, then faking a relationship with Brandon, a man who’s known me since high school, should be relatively straightforward.

He peeks between his fingers. “So, about that safe phrase . . .”

“It should be something that doesn’t feel forced,” I point out. “How about the person giving consent says, ‘You can’t help yourself, can you?’ As if they’re teasing the other person. It’s the kind of statement that could precede physical contact, and it sounds natural to my ear.”

“Yeah, that works,” he says, nodding.

So far, so good. I’m crafty. He’s reasonable. We might actually get out of this mess unscathed. “Another thing: You’re going to have to be flexible about the schedule for these outings. I cannot move an already-planned weekend trip to Vegas with my roommate.”

“When’s that?”

“Second weekend in August.”

“Okay, we should be done by then. Not a problem.”

“Also, my weeknights aren’t always free.”

“Work conflicts?”

“Exactly.”

He draws back and frowns. “I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

“I’m teaching adult education and empowerment classes in the afternoon and evenings.”

“Like for the GED, you mean?”

I nod. “Yeah, that and a job readiness course.”

“Lina said you went to graduate school.”

“I did. I took this job in exchange for getting my master’s degree fully funded.”

“Nice. You left school without being saddled by debt.” He tucks his hands under his chin and looks at me wistfully. “What’s that like?”

“It’s weird, actually. I’m incredibly grateful, but sometimes it feels too good to be true. I’m waiting for someone to tell me it was all a clerical error and ask for the money back.”

Dean releases a deep sigh and sags against his chair. “I took out a staggering amount of loans for law school, so in my mind, working for a firm was a given. I’m not sure I would have taken the same path if I’d finished debt-free.” He gestures as if to dismiss the subject. “Enough about that. Tell me, what’s next for you? After the fellowship ends, I mean.”

I resist the urge to ask him what he would have done differently, since he plainly doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe another time. “I’m considering a position coordinating adult training for BFI in Ohio.”

He leans forward a fraction, his eyes flickering with interest. “What’s that?”