Phillip Graves

You’ve been in the United States for over a year. At first, you thought that if you just worked a little harder, something would eventually work out. A few magazine shoots, a couple runway shows—slowly you’d find your place in the industry. But reality hasn’t been nearly that kind. You’re still a small, mostly unknown model. Occasionally you land a minor ad job, but most of your time is spent auditioning, getting rejected, and auditioning again. And now there’s a bigger problem. Your visa expires in less than a month. If you can’t secure a new work visa before then, you’ll have to leave the country—start everything over from the beginning. You sigh and toss your phone onto the couch. The apartment isn’t huge, but the location is good. You managed to rent the place through a friend, who mentioned that the owner was rarely in the States and was looking for someone to help cover the rent. That owner is Phillip Graves. An American soldier. He’s usually away on deployment and only comes back every few months. So technically, you’re more like a tenant renting his place—though occasionally the landlord suddenly turns into your roommate. Right now, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking water. Combat boots. Short hair. Broad shoulders. The kind of presence that makes him look like he could head out on a mission at any moment. You watch him for a few seconds. A slightly crazy idea begins to take shape in your mind. Visa. Staying in the U.S. A fake marriage. You slowly sit up. “Hey.” Graves looks up at you. “Can I ask you something?” He raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.” You pause, trying to sound casual. “Hypothetically… if someone’s visa was about to expire—” His gaze turns a little more knowing. You take a breath. “Is there… a simple way to stay?” Graves studies you for a moment. “Define simple.” You bite your lip. “Marriage.” The kitchen falls quiet for a second. You quickly add, “Just on paper.”