Fake Fiancée(40)

We’d driven to class together this morning. I kept things cool. So did she. Sure, she’d agreed to continue the fiancée charade, but the closeness we’d had was gone. She was back to building a wall between us. I wanted to pull her out of class, take her to an empty classroom, and just . . . talk.

But I didn’t.

That week there were no more visits to the Student Center. No more late night study sessions. I did text her each day to make sure there hadn’t been any flowers left on her back porch. There hadn’t.

I stopped by Mimi’s house on Tuesday and Thursday when I was done with practice and knew that Sunny was at work. After texting her to see what her favorite foods were, I brought Italian take-out one night and Chinese the next. I didn’t say anything to Sunny about our visits because it wasn’t about brownie points. I felt like a heel for involving Mimi in my scheme, and truthfully, hanging out with Mimi wasn’t hard work. Hell, she was a sharp lady who liked beer and football.

On game day when Coach announced in the locker room that I wasn’t starting because I’d disobeyed him, the entire team glared at me. Felix wasn’t me and they knew it. Which is why at the half when we trailed by fourteen, I was dying to get on the field. I needed it. Surely, he hadn’t meant for me to sit out the entire game? Hell, that was meant for players who’d been arrested . . .

But he’d been angry.

After his pep talk at the halftime break, I went to him, helmet in hand. “Coach, let me fix this. I don’t want the entire team to suffer. You’re completely right about me, and I humbly apologize. I haven’t been focused enough, and I continue to put my own needs before the team.”

He studied me with a scowl on his face.

And he walked off.

Fuck.

I gritted my teeth in frustration and walked to the back of the locker room where Felix was getting a shoulder rub from one of the trainers. I sat down next to him on the bench. If I couldn’t play, I’d help him.

He glared at me, his lip curling in derision. “Having a bad day, Kent?”

Ignore what an asshole he is. Think about the game. “Dude. You need to snap faster. The defense is eating you up—and keep your eyes on twenty-one. As soon as the ball’s snapped, he’s reading you like a book—”

“Not your game. It’s mine, so back off,” he said curtly.

I swallowed my pride, refusing to walk away even when it was clear he wasn’t going to listen.

“Whatever issues we have, you need to let it go. Take my advice . . . please. I have the experience, and I know where you’re screwing up.”

“It’s not your game,” he bit the words out like bullets.

I clenched my fists. “I don’t care whose game it is. What I do care about is this team, and if you want to win, then you need to listen. It takes all of us, Felix.”

I felt a slap on my shoulder and flipped around. It was Coach, and by the look in his tired eyes, he’d heard me. “That’s the kind of attitude you need to have, Max.” A brief flash of a grin. “Now head out and start warming up.”

“I’m playing?” My heart jumped.

“Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “But no more fucking around.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”



By the end of the game, we’d beat Georgia twenty-eight to twenty-one. I’d thrown three touchdown passes and had rushed for eighty-two yards. Badass game.

Ryn was having a party at his place—just beer and maybe a card game. Nothing crazy. I’d halfway invited Sunny, but she’d said no. It was okay, I told myself. I’d decided that the less time I spent with her, the easier it was to forget how much I wanted her.

I’d been outside by the fire pit for about an hour when Tate walked over to me and leaned down so only I could hear him. “Mate, Sierra’s inside.”

“No shit.” I jerked up. “Where?”

“I came out of the upstairs loo, and there she was in line waiting to take a piss. You going to say anything?”

“Hell, yes,” I called to him as I stalked to the back door. As I made my way through the kitchen and up the staircase I garnered a few slaps on the back and comments about the game and my engagement, and I nodded absently.

There was a line of about five people outside the bathroom. The door opened and out she stumbled. She took one look at me, rushed over, and tossed her arms around her neck, smelling like beer and stale cigarettes.

“Max! Oh, how I’ve missed you!” She pressed a kiss to my chest, burying her nose in my shirt. “Did you miss me?”

No. I pulled back. “Sierra. We need to talk.”

She crooked her arm in mine and smiled up at me. “Anything for you, Max baby. You want me to go down on you? Come on, let’s find an empty room.” She laced her hand in mine, tugging me toward one of the bedrooms.

“No.”

She pouted. “Meanie.”

I pulled her off to a corner at the end of the hall as far as I could get from people. “You hit my fiancée’s car a few weeks ago when you left my house.”

She scrunched up her face as she swayed on her feet. “I—I don’t really remember. Did I? I don’t think so. That doesn’t sound like me . . .” her voice trailed off.

“You did. She saw it. You can’t be drinking and driving.”