I Accidentally Rented A Human Dog

Just before the holidays, my younger boyfriend dumped me out of nowhere.

My mother issued an ultimatum: If you dont bring a man home for Christmas, dont bother bringing the dog either!

In a panic, I posted an ad online to rent a date.

My only requirement was supposed to be: Must be willing to sit with my dog in the backseat.

The next morning, my inbox exploded.

My ex-boyfriend had completely spammed my DMs:[Weve barely been broken up for a few days and youre already looking for a dog?!][Fine, if you had just said thats what you were into, I wouldnt have held back.][Answer me! Did you actually find someone?!]

[Who could be a better dog than me?! Ill rip his throat out!!]

I blinked, thoroughly confused, and pulled up my original post. My vision went dark.

How did the words "sit with" get deleted?!

I stared at the row of exclamation points on my screen, picturing Chases facea face that looked unfairly handsome even when he was throwing a tantrum.

I felt absolutely nothing.

A week ago, I had reminded him.

When you come home with me for Christmas, you dont need to pack that many heavy coats. The South is pretty mild this time of year.

He had paused, looking down at his phone. "Sure."

That very night, I got an automated email notification that his flight had been canceled.

I called him immediately, asking what was going on.

It rang for a long time. When he finally answered, the deafening, pulsating bass of a crowded club flooded the speaker.

Chase said he was out having drinks with some guys from his graduating class.

His tone dripped with obvious impatience, like my call was a nagging disruption to his big night out.

Worried he couldn't hear me, I yelled over the noise, asking if he had accidentally canceled the ticket. I had moved heaven and earth to book that holiday flight; we couldn't just lose it.

He hesitated. It took him a long moment to formulate an excuse.

"Oh, that. I lost a bet playing Truth or Dare. The dare was to cancel my flight right then and there and go snowboarding in Aspen with them instead."

The music pounding in my ear grew louder. I genuinely thought I was having auditory hallucinations.

I asked again, slowly, "You canceled your ticket to meet my parents... so you could go snowboarding with other people?"

"Harper, just listen to me"

"Chase! Stop using the phone as an excuse to dodge shots! Get your ass back in here~"

A bright, flirty female voice cut through the background noise, urging him on.

Chase laughed and yelled back at her, "Shut up! I'm talking to my girlfriend. Keep drinking, it's on my tab."

Then, his voice shifted back to that practiced, lazy charm.

"Baby, they were egging me on, and I just got caught up in the moment. I'm graduating this year, and I won't have many chances left to just wild out with my friends. How about we go see your parents next year?"

I took a deep breath, fighting to maintain the calm, collected demeanor expected of the older girlfriend.

"Chase." I enunciated every word. "I am giving you two options right now."

"Option one: when you sober up, you buy a new ticket immediately. I will pretend tonight was just a bad, drunken joke."

The bass through the phone seemed to lower slightly.

"Or, option two... we're done." I tilted my head back, swallowing down the sharp, acidic lump in my throat. "Let's break up."

Before Chase could even process the choice, someone else chimed in nearby:

"Ooh, drama. Lexi was just crying saying you told her to get lost, even though you promised you'd take her to Aspen to clear her head."

"Is your older girlfriend giving you a curfew again? Good boy, always rushing home to mommy~"

A chorus of mocking, mean-spirited laughter erupted.

I don't know how much time passed before Chase finally spoke again.

"Harper, do you have to be so intense about everything? Im twenty-four. You keep pressuring me to go home with you for the holidayswhat is that? A hint that I need to put a ring on it the second I graduate? I am under a massive amount of stress right now. Cant we just keep things light and easy?"

His sudden explosion of anger caught me off guard.

But looking back, the signs had been there all along.

For the past six months, Chase had stopped dropping by my office. Whenever I wanted to plan a weekend date, he either had "school stuff" or "bro time." His texts devolved from clingy voice notes to brief messages, and finally to indifferent emojis. When we did manage to see each other, his face was perpetually buried in his phone.

Whenever I brought up going home for Christmas, he found an excuse to change the subject.

So that was it. He thought I was trying to trap him into marriage.

I was twenty-seven. But it wasn't a death sentence if I didn't get married at twenty-seven.

My mother knew I had been dating someone for three years. But in those three years, she had never once met him. She was beginning to suspect he was entirely made up.

This year, she laid down the law: if I didnt bring my boyfriend home, I wasnt allowed to bring Lucky back for the holidays either.

Lucky was my dog. Id had him for ten years, and his health had been rapidly declining lately. There was no way I was leaving him in a boarding facility.

The dog was coming home with me. That was non-negotiable.

As for the boyfriend...

"Got it. I know your answer then."

Adults are supposed to keep things dignified. You part ways amicably.

Even if your heart feels like its being dragged over broken glass, watching three years of your youth swirl down the drain.

Facing a boy three years my junior, my last shred of pride absolutely forbade me from becoming hysterical.

Chase froze.

He probably thought his little outburst would force me to back down and coddle him. He never expected me to just flip the board and walk away.

He gritted his teeth. "You want to break up? Fine! We're broken up!"

My inbox was still flooded with aggressive interrogations from my ex.

I didn't scroll down. I just blocked him.

Over the past three years, blocking me whenever he threw a tantrum was his favorite party trick. He would unblock me shortly after, but every time I had to type out paragraphs of apologies just to be met with that red "Message Not Delivered" icon, it felt like a punch to the gut.

I never thought the day would come where I would be the one blocking him.

The world went blissfully quiet.

Just before I logged out, I noticed a separate, unread message in my inbox.

[Hello. Do you have any specific physical requirements?]

Someone actually applied?

I hesitated. I was terrified this person had also completely misinterpreted my post. Missing the words "sit with" made the "be my dog" typo incredibly compromising.

Should I just ask what he meant? That felt borderline insulting.

My phone buzzed. It was my sister, Claire.

She was already laying it on thick.

"Harper, Mom has been bragging to literally everyone in the neighborhood that you're bringing a guy home. The extended family is practically camping out in the living room waiting for the show."

"Please tell me you're not going to flake."

I hung up, feeling too nauseous to eat.

Tell Mom the truth? Would she even believe me?

And even if she did, the humiliation in front of the relatives would crush her.

After wrestling with it for ten minutes, I opened the DM and rapidly typed back:

[Hi. No special requirements. Just be a normal human being.][For payment, you can choose: 1. If you also need a fake date to get your family off your back, we can swap favors. 2. Cash.][But this has to be a mutual fit. You can look at my picture first.]

I attached a photo. To my surprise, the user was online and replied almost instantly:

[Can I have some time to think about it?]

Me: ...

[Sure. Let me know.]

Before bed, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror. I leaned in close, inspecting my forehead, the corners of my eyes, the lines around my mouth...

No deep wrinkles yet.

But somehow, the face I used to carry with such effortless confidence had reached the age of being "evaluated."

Was I really getting old?

It was the final office holiday party before the break.

Everyone in my department was getting trashed. I tried to pace them, reminding them that even though we had tomorrow off, a hangover was still a hangover.

One of the fresh-out-of-college trainees nudged me, giggling. "What are you worried about, Harper? Your hot younger boyfriend is totally going to pick you up and take care of you, right?"

The table erupted in teasing laughter.

I forced a tight smile. "Quit it, you guys. Keep having fun, but Ive got to head out early. Put the drinks on my card."

"You're the best, boss!"

Even though it had all crashed and burned, Chase and I did have moments that made other people jealous.

When he didn't have classes, he would come to my office. If I was in a meeting, hed sit quietly in the lobby, reading a book. Hed pick me up from the airport after my business trips, even for the red-eye flights. He loved buying matching couples' stuff, leaving his specific neck pillow in the passenger seat of my car so everyone knew it was his spot.

We used to kiss in that car, talking about everything we were going to do together.

Back then, I really thought we were going to make it.

Three years isn't that long in the grand scheme of a lifetime.

But the years from twenty-four to twenty-seven? Those are long. Heavy.

On the ride home, the algorithm served me a video of a young girl.

It was a sensual, choreographed couples' dance. The girl was adorable, practically radiating youthful energy. The guy had his baseball cap pulled low, hiding half his face, but their bodies moved together in tight, suggestive synchronization to a heavy bassline.

The comments were mostly shipping them, praising their chemistry. But one comment stood out:[The guy looks super familiar. Isn't that the hot guy from NYU? But didn't he already have a serious girlfriend? Did they break up?]

I refreshed the page. The comment vanished.

I hit the 'Like' button on the video.

When I got home, I immediately checked on Lucky.

Lately, Id been waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of his wet, rattling breaths. Yesterday, he had thrown up.

One look told me he was getting worse.

I gently scooped him into his carrier and mapped the nearest 24-hour emergency vet.

It was approaching midnight. There was only one doctor on duty.

He was young. He wore a surgical mask, but the eyes above it were sharp, calm, and striking.

He glanced at the dog, then up at me, a slight crease forming between his brows.

My heart instantly lodged in my throat.

"How is it? It's not good, is it?"

He lowered his gaze, leaning over the metal table to examine Lucky with quiet precision.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was steady. "He is trying very hard."

My knees buckled. I had to grip the edge of a plastic chair to keep from hitting the linoleum.

"How much time?" I heard my own voice, thin and trembling.

"Two weeks. Maybe two months. It's impossible to be certain. In human years, he has already lived a very long, full life."

I knew. Of course I knew.

I was just a kid when we brought Lucky home. Now I was staring down thirty.

To stabilize him, the doctor suggested keeping him overnight for observation.

"Here is my personal number," he said, handing me a card. "If anything comes up, or if you just need an update, text me anytime."

I fought back the burning behind my eyes and took one last look at my sweet, tired boy.

"Thank you, Doctor. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

He looked up, his eyes softening. "Just call me Miles."

One girl and one dog left the apartment. Only the girl came back.

Stepping into the freezing December air, a chill wracked my entire body.

And there, slumped in front of my door, was a dead-drunk pile of garbage.

It was Chase.

When he saw me, his eyes lit up. He scrambled up and grabbed my arm.

He immediately started demanding answerswhy did I block him? Why wasn't I replying?

I was drained. The absolute last thing I wanted to do was argue.

"What exactly do you want from me?"

You don't want to go home with me? Fine. You want to break up? Also fine. What else was I supposed to give him?

He suddenly went quiet.

That perfectly sculpted face crumpled. He wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

"You were suffocating me. I'm at an age where everyone else my age is out living their lives..."

"Other people are skiing for the holidays, and I'm supposed to meet your parents, plan a wedding, have kids, take responsibility for someone else's entire existence..."

"Just thinking about it makes me feel like I can't breathe."

"You were twenty-four once. Can't you just understand that? Can't you just give me some grace?"

For a split second, an echo from the past rang in my ears.

Harper, can't you just like me? Just believe in me a little, just love me?

Chase had chased me for six months, and I had remained completely unmoved.

I was getting ready to graduate; he was only a sophomore.

On the day of my graduation, he confessed his feelings again in front of everyone.

I turned him down again. Even though my heart had fluttered. Logic told me we were at different stages in life.

That night, he got blackout drunk and passed out right in front of my apartment door.

When I tried to help him up, he just stared at me with these big, tear-filled eyes. And then he started crying, begging me to give him a chance.

That night, I didn't have the heart to push him away.

But now...

I shoved him off me, looking dead into his bloodshot eyes.

"And that gives you the right to treat me like garbage and mess around with other girls?"

I knew that even if there was no one else, we still might not have survived.

But the absolute betrayal of being cheated onit was a vicious, biting pain. The kind that wakes you up at 3 AM crying into your pillow, making you want to claw your own skin off.

"I just wanted to introduce you to my mother. I was stressed too, even if we were just going through the motions to keep her happy. Of course, if we made it in the long run, great. But meeting parents doesn't mean you're signing a marriage license tomorrow."

He was the man I had considered marrying, but he wasn't the only man I could marry.

"I..." Chase ran a hand through his hair. "I only went to Aspen to keep Lexi company. She just went through a bad breakup."

"Then go to her," I said flatly.

No one is stopping you.

Chase blinked. "You're not mad anymore?"

"No." I put my key in the lock. "We're broken up."

Hearing that, Chase slammed his hand against the door, pinning it shut.

"Broken up? Are you really so sure you can find someone better than me?"

"Let's be brutally honest here. You're twenty-seven. The only reason you're posting online to rent a date is because you literally have no one else."

"Or do you honestly think guys are lining up for a woman pushing thirty? Even guys with weird kinks have standards."

His face twisted into something ugly and cruel. He pulled out his phone, shoving his contact list in my face. It was an endless scroll of beautiful, young girls.

"I have twenty pages of girls in my phone who are younger and prettier than you. But I kept my distance from all of them, for you."

"I'm just taking a junior on a ski trip to cheer her up. Its not even just the two of us. Did you really have to blow it up like this?"

"I am giving you one last chance. Harper, tell me you don't want to break up. Say it!"

He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like a lunatic.

"Excuse me."

A deep, quiet voice drifted out from the shadows of the hallway.

"Are you quite finished? I have business with Ms. Harper."

A tall man in a tailored wool coat stepped out of the dim lighting. I had no idea how long he had been standing there. He had an imposing, elegant presence, but his voice was as cold as ice.

He was incredibly handsome. And slightly familiar.

But I definitely didn't know him.

Chase glared at him. "Who the hell are you?"

The man ignored him completely, keeping his eyes fixed on me.

"It's me," he said, raising a hand to cover the lower half of his face.

It was Dr. Miles, the emergency vet!

Panic spiked through me.

Did something happen to Lucky?!

I rushed toward him, only then noticing he was holding my empty pet carrier.

I had left it at the clinic.

I could have just picked it up next time. Why did he personally deliver it in the middle of the night?

Seeing my confusion, Miles gave the bag a gentle shake.

"I'm here to interview for the position."

The position?

What position?

Chase had been rolling his eyes, completely unbothered, until he saw what was inside the mesh bag...

His expression violently shattered. His face drained of color.

Inside the bag,

was the leather dog leash I had left at the clinic.

Chase looked like his brain was short-circuiting.

How could any man willingly debase himself to be a woman's dog? Let alone his discarded, aging ex-girlfriend?

"Bro, how much is she paying you?" Chase let out a sleazy, mocking laugh, reaching out to clap Miles on the shoulder.

Miles smoothly sidestepped him.

"I'm doing it for free. Purely voluntary." Miles offered a polite, devastatingly innocent smile while delivering the most unhinged sentence imaginable:

"Why? Are you looking to submit an application too?"

Realizing he wasn't going to get a rise out of Miles, Chase spun back to me, sneering.

"Harper, I know what you're doing. You hired an actor to piss me off, didn't you?"

He eyed the leash in Miles' hand.

"Otherwise, what are the odds he just happens to show up the second I come looking for you?"

"We have three years together. You can't just throw all of that away over one stupid fight."

Watching Chase throw a tantrum like a spoiled toddler in front of my veterinarian, I felt only one emotion.

Profound embarrassment.

"Chase, you love bringing up those three years," I said, my voice dropping to a freezing register. "But how exactly did you treat those three years?"

Some things lose their meaning once spoken aloud.

But if it meant cutting this cancer out of my life once and for all, I didn't mind making a scene.

I pulled out my phone and hit play on an audio file.

The background noise was a chaotic, thumping club.[Chase, are you actually serious about Lexi?]

The voice coming from the speaker was crystal clear.[What does 'serious' even mean? She confessed her feelings, but I didn't say yes. Are we not allowed to be friends?]

[Man, that's kinda messed up. Your girlfriend is obviously looking to settle down.][I never said I wouldn't marry her. But she's my first real girlfriend from college. If I just marry the very first girl I dated, aren't I missing out on the rest of my twenties?][So you're stringing the older girl along for marriage security while hooking up with freshmen to gain experience. Damn, you're cold.]

...

"Enough!" Chase lunged forward, panic flashing in his eyes. "Who gave you that?!"

I stepped back, dodging his grasp. "Who gave it to me doesn't matter."

Chase lunged again, reaching for my arm

Smack!

A heavy leather leash whipped through the air, striking the back of his hand with a sharp, brutal crack.

A bright red welt bloomed instantly across his skin.

He hissed in pain, jerking his hand back.

Miles stood there, leash in hand, his eyes darker than a winter lake.

Chase sucked in a breath, glaring daggers at Miles.

Then, his eyes shifted back to me. He held up his red, stinging hand, shoving it into my line of sight.

"Harper... it hurts."

His eyes were wide, wet with unshed tears. His voice caught in a pathetic whimper.

I knew that look entirely too well.

For three years, anytime he got a scrape, a headache, a minor inconvenience, I was the one panicking. No matter how swamped I was at work, I would take PTO to pick him up from campus and nurse him back to health.

But today...

I stepped right past him, completely ignoring his outstretched hand.

I reached out and grabbed Miles by the wrist.

"Let's go inside."

I pulled him in and slammed the door in Chase's face.

Leaving him to rot in the hallway.

For the first time since moving in, my apartment with its ten-foot ceilings felt incredibly cramped.

How did adding one 6'2" man instantly consume all the oxygen in the room?

I awkwardly scratched the back of my neck. "Dr. Miles... thank you for bailing me out out there."

I took the pet carrier from his hands, catching a glimpse of the leash inside. Remembering what had just transpired in the hallway... my face burned so hot I could have fried an egg on it.

"Ms. Harper, you do realize I'm the one who messaged you online, right?"

"I'm not blind," I forced a laugh. "Your WhatsApp profile picture and the forum avatar are the exact same cat."

Miles chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Very observant."

"Just call me Harper. But I really think you misunderstood the post... I wasn't actually looking for... that."

Thinking about the typo, I actively wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow me whole.

Miles let out a quiet, muffled laugh. "I know. I'm perfectly capable of understanding context clues and auto-correct fails."

Translation: I'm not as brain-dead as the guy out in the hall.

But that just raised more questions.

If he knew it was a typo, why was he volunteering to be my fake boyfriend?

"Dr. Miles... is the clinic going bankrupt or something?"

He blinked, taken aback. "No."

"So if you don't need the money... why are you doing this?!"

Miles thought about it for a second. "Consider it me hitching a ride. I'm originally from the coast too."

"Wait, seriously? We're from the same area?" Thank God I didn't actually cry over the typo.

"More or less," Miles said. "But I had a falling out with my family. I haven't been back in years."

"Dr. Miles, what if I told you..." I took a deep breath.

"You got the job. Do you want to come to my parents' house for Christmas? Since we're from the same state, consider it a taste of home. My mom is a terrifyingly good cook."

Miles stared at me for a long moment, then a slow, genuine smile spread across his face.

"I'd love that."

Since I had officially "rented" a boyfriend, we needed to commit to the bit.

"Do you mind if we take some photos?"

"Not at all."

Miles didn't ask a single question. He just let me direct himstand here, look here, tilt your head.

The man had the bone structure of a Renaissance statue. There wasn't a bad angle on him. Standing next to him in selfies was genuinely intimidating.

After applying an aggressive amount of filters, I set our best selfie as my phone's lock screen.

He caught it out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Is that...?"

"The devil is in the details!" I showed him the phone, establishing the fake-dating lore. "My mother is a detective. She knows I've been dating a guy for three years. If she checks my phone and there isn't a single photo of you, she'll smell blood in the water."

Click.

The flash went off.

I looked up to see Miles aiming his phone at me. He immediately looked down, tapping away to set his own lock screen.

I was about to say, You don't have to do that, my mom isn't going to audit your phone.

But seeing how intently he was focusing on it, I thought it was kind of sweet. I didn't want to ruin the moment.

"By the way, how well do you hold your liquor?"

He considered it. "I do alright," he smiled.

"Oh, thank God." I let out a breath. "My dad judges a man's entire character based on how he drinks. Hes definitely going to corner you with a bottle of scotch. Don't worry, I'll run interference for you."

Miles raised a brow slightly. "Understood. Thank you, Harper."

That night, right before I went to sleep.

Miles texted me: Goodnight.

I stared at the screen, thinking that Dr. Miles was an incredibly thorough guy. He wasn't missing a single detail of the 'doting boyfriend' act.

Though, I had my own selfish reasons.

Having Miles in the car meant if Lucky took a turn for the worse during the drive, I had a literal doctor on hand.

10

The next afternoon, we packed up the car for the long drive down the coast.

We were supposed to leave in the morning, but an emergency came up at the clinic, and Miles had to go handle it. I told him it was fine; a few hours wouldn't kill us.

When we finally met up in the afternoon, Miles didn't just have a duffel bag. He was dragging a massive, heavy-duty suitcase.

Inside were premium vitamin supplements, La Mer skincare sets, imported teas, and high-end LEGO setsa demographic spread covering every possible age group.

I stared at him. "What is all this?"

His tone was perfectly even. "You can't meet your future mother-in-law empty-handed."

I burst out laughing at his deadpan delivery.

"Alright, alright. Employee of the month over here. What kind of bonus are you expecting for this?"

I meant it as a joke, but Miles fired back instantly: "I'll let you know when the time comes."

Luckys condition really wasn't suited for a long road trip, but thankfully, the drive wasn't grueling. And having Miles in the backseat gave me immense peace of mind.

I drove. Miles sat in the back, tending to Lucky the entire way.

Every time I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the two of them together, the knot in my chest loosened a little more.

Hours later, we finally pulled into my parents' driveway.

The moment the engine cut, my sister Claire heard the gravel crunch and bounded out of the front door.

She slapped me hard on the shoulder. "Damn, Harper. You weren't kidding. He is gorgeous."

Miles was undeniably gorgeous, though I still hadn't asked his age. He felt older, more grounded than me.

The tall doctor unfolded himself from my tiny sedan, rubbing his lower back. My car was practically a clown car for a guy who was 6'2". Being cramped back there for hours couldn't have been fun.

He efficiently popped the trunk, grabbed both our bags with one hand, and hoisted Lucky's supply tote with the other.

All I had to do was hold Luckys leash. It was bizarrely domestic.

Claire watched Miles unload the car, her eyes wide. "And this handsome specimen is...?"

Miles immediately set the bags down and extended a polite hand to my sister.

"Hi, I'm Harper's boyfriend. Miles."

"Hi, boyfriend, I'm Harper'swait, hold on."

Claire froze. Her eyes darted from me to him, bugging out of her skull.

She pointed a shaky finger toward the living room window.

"You're... her boyfriend?"

"Yes."

Claire looked like her brain had bluescreened.

"Then who the hell is the guy currently sitting in our kitchen?!"

I froze.

What guy in the kitchen?