Fake Fiancée(14)

My mouth gaped. It dawned on me that Max wasn’t exactly the dumb jock I’d imagined.

Maybe there was more to him . . .

Nah.

“Nice answer,” Whitt replied.

Max paused, his eyes gliding over to mine. “But back to the heart—Miss Blaine makes a valid point.”

“How so?” Whitt asked, crossing his legs as he leaned against the podium.

The entire class looked from Whitt to Max to me. It felt as if the entire room hushed to hear what he had to say.

Max cleared his throat. “The heart may not be the control center, but the brain is nothing without oxygen that the heart supplies. They rely on each other—it’s a relationship of sorts. Also, metaphorically speaking, the heart is the seat of the soul and our psyche. After all, it is the organ that falls in love.”

Whitt chuckled. “Love has nothing to do with our heart.”

“I disagree.” Max sent me a leisurely look, sweeping over my face. “When you first meet someone special, your heart reacts. It flutters or jumps or something. It’s like it recognizes its other half.” He dipped his head, appearing a bit embarrassed by the admission.

I didn’t buy it. Not for a hot minute.

Wistful sighs came from the girls around me. Maybe even a couple of guys.

“ . . . so romantic . . .” someone murmured from the back of the room.

“ . . . you can have my heart anytime . . .” said another.

Oh, please.

I lifted an eyebrow at Max. You are so full of shit, my eyes said.

You know you want me, his eyes replied.

“Player,” I whispered under my breath.

He just grinned.





Max

I FOLLOWED SUNNY OUT OF class, grabbing her hand before she stepped into the stairwell. I wasn’t ready to let her walk away. An idea was niggling at me.

“Wait. Let’s talk a minute. I have a proposition for you.”

She turned toward me, a harried look on her face as she shuffled her backpack around. “What’s up? Oh, and nice acting in class. Half the girls are in love with you now.”

“Just half?”

She glared. “Fine. Probably all of them.”

“But not you?” I asked.

“Sorry, but your little show was impervious to my hard heart.”

I shrugged noncommittally. Class had been a show, but pretending was what I did best. I pretended that losing my mom hadn’t slayed me my freshman year. I pretended that my dad was the best guy in the world. I pretended that Bianca hadn’t hurt me last year.

I pushed those thoughts aside.

“Okay, this is going to sound nuts, but maybe we could continue our little charade about dating?” I said. The idea had taken root in class, and the more I thought about it, the more stoked I became.

“Why would you want to?” she sputtered.

“It’s simple. I want the Heisman, but with all the rumors about me fighting last year with Felix—it’s a long shot. The award isn’t just about achievement and skill. It’s all hype and to get hype you need a feel-good story that resonates with people. Maybe finding a serious girlfriend and falling in love could be the story that tips the voters over.” I paused. “Heck, we could even go all the way and say fiancée. The reporters would eat up that romantic shit—just like that classroom did.”

Her mouth opened. “Fake fiancée? Falling in love? What is this . . . a Hallmark movie?”

“We could be the best damn Hallmark movie ever made, Sunny.” My voice was dead serious.

“And what do I get?”

I leaned in closer, feeling drawn to her, inhaling her sweet scent. “A thousand bucks. You’re always working. You need money, right?”

A little puff of air came from her parted lips. “I don’t know. This seems crazy. You’re crazy.”

Maybe I was—but football was everything.

“I’m just focused—it’s what it takes to be the best. Plus, it’s not just the Heisman. You could keep the groupies off my back. And Bianca. Hell, I could have the best season of my life—and all because I have a pretend girl next to me . . . one that I don’t really have to invest a lot of work in. See? It sounds like the perfect plan.”

A long exhale came from her as she took her eyes off me to focus on the students milling past us to head to the stairwell. I watched her face with keen interest, looking for a chink in her armor, some way to convince her that this was a spectacular idea. She chewed on her bottom lip.

“I’ll even help you study for this class. I am a pre-med major, you know. And . . . I can put in a good word for you with Whitt. He loves me,” I said in a sing-song voice. “Come on. You know you want to. I’m fun and hot. You’d be so popular—”

She held her hand up. “I get the picture. How long will we have to—you know—be together?”

“They announce the finalists the first week of December, so that’s around three months, give or take. We could come back after Christmas and say we’d broken up. You can even say you broke my heart. Easiest thing ever.”

She mulled that over. “Don’t you have a girl you could ask—like someone you already have on the hook?”

“It’s got to be you. I trust you.”