Fake Fiancée(37)

“I—I just can’t.”

She sent me a final look and marched off.

I fumed, watching them go to the pool area someone had obviously designated as a dance floor. A makeshift bar was across from it and someone had even brought a keg. My own house and I had no clue what was going on . . .

The dark-haired girl approached me. “Yeah,” she mused. “You screwed up with Sunny, Quarterback.”

“Who are you?” I snapped.

Critical eyes raked over me. “This is what you need to know, okay? When her dad hit her one too many times, she left. When Bart cheated, she ended them. And now you—trying to pull a sly one when Mimi is there. Mimi is all she has left in the freaking world, and you tampered with that. You’re going down.”

I closed my eyes. She was telling me what I already knew—but now, now it was sinking in.

“And by the way, Isabella’s the name. I’m the one looking out for her—which is damn funny since I’d told her to snap you up because she’s been lonely. But now I can see your true colors. You don’t deserve her.”

I scrubbed my face. “You’re right,” I said. “I didn’t think it through—”

She reared back, disgust on every line of her face. “Oh, don’t be sorry now. Prepare yourself to be broken up with—oh, probably right after this song.”





Sunny

TATE AND I DANCED. HE had some crazy kind of hip-hop flair that should have looked ridiculous on his big frame, but it was funny. I found myself laughing more than dancing. It was probably the tequila, but I didn’t care at that point. Ash and Isabella joined Tate and I in our circle as we moved to the music. He’d shown up for a couple of library study sessions, and Isabella had immediately apologized about lying to him the night they hooked up. They’d set up a tentative little friendship.

Tate fell on the ground and did a hilarious rendition of the worm.

Yeah, my fake boyfriend had trampled the shit out of my trust, but it was fine ’cause I couldn’t feel my face.

A slower country song came on, and Tate and I went with the flow. I stepped into his arms, and he wrapped his forearm around my waist but kept his grip light.

“Love, maybe it’s a good idea if we don’t dance together.” His gruff voice resonated in my ear.

“Why?” I looked up at him. He had a strong jawline, gentle brown eyes, and a killer smile. I got why girls went nuts over him.

“Max’s looking a bit wonky.” He nudged his head toward a sullen Max, who stood near the pool. A couple of players talked around him, but he watched us.

Tingles of awareness zipped up my spine at his gaze.

He’s fine was about to come out of my mouth when I saw Bianca and some of her girlfriends sashay up to him, blocking my view.

My grip on Tate tightened. “He seems to have found some company.”

“Maybe, but it’s you he wants.”

“How do you know?” I said rather sullenly.

He shrugged. “He told me he talked to you about his mum, and he never does that. You might find this hard to believe, but he’s a very private person.”

“He went behind my back.”

Tate thought about it. “All I can say is he isn’t thinking straight. He’s insane during the season. Football is his world.”

“What about Bianca? Does he still care about her?” Might as well pump the best friend for info while I had the chance.

He shook his head, his blond hair waving around like a lion’s mane. “Bianca was more of a pride thing because she screwed other players, but with you . . . it’s you.”

I slid my eyes in Max’s direction. His jaw flexed as he watched us dance. There was a possessive streak in him, even if we were pretend. I recognized it because I was the same.

Bianca wore a wounded expression on her face as she talked to Max. She held a red Solo Cup, her free hand gesturing around wildly at the party—and over at me. She gazed up at him like a distressed kitten. My lips tightened. Poor little Bianca, my ass.

“He could have asked any girl to be his fake fiancée. But he asked you—a random girl he’d never met before.” He arched a brow at me. “I adore dancing with you, but perhaps you need to deal with him, love. He isn’t going to stop being jealous, and I do have to live with him. Plus, do you really want to let Bianca win this round? She’s over there all over your bloke.”

I was angry with Max, yet my heart ached for him. Stupid, stupid heart. It didn’t know what to do.

But Bianca was an entirely different animal. I despised her.

Was it horrible that even though I couldn’t have him, I sure as hell didn’t want her to have him?

Making a decision, I said a quick goodbye to Tate and left the dance floor. I edged around the girls as they talked about the game until I faced Max, giving them my back and cutting off whatever Bianca had been saying to him.

He glanced up at me in surprise, and the air thickened with electricity. Relief flickered on his face. “Sunny—”

“Finally,” Bianca interrupted. “Here’s the happy couple together.” She glided closer, her sorority sisters’ huddle following as if they were attached at the hip. “Now that you’re here, I must congratulate you on the entertainment during the game.” Her once distressed look had morphed into something hateful. “You have to know it’s very difficult for us to believe, especially since you just started dating.”