Fake Fiancée(8)

He wasn’t who I thought he was. Not really.

I let out a sigh as we walked out the door. His irreverent attitude reminded me of my ex, and if there’s one thing I’d learned at Leland, it was that super star athletes were not to be trusted.

He was much bigger in life than I had imagined. Of course, I’d seen pics of him in his uniform on television for a big game, and sometimes I’d catch sight of him on the quad, usually surrounded by teammates or girls, but we’d never come face-to-face. He was popular and way out of my social circle.

I’m a plain and simple girl who kept my head down—even more so after my mom had died when I was sixteen. My father had made it his mission to make sure I didn’t turn out like her. A strict preacher, he’d yanked me out of public school to homeschool me after she passed. No more singing lessons. No more friends—or boys. He wanted me home and under his thumb. He’d managed to hide that dark side from his parishioners, but it lingered just on the edges of his personality.

I saw it every time he looked at me.

He hated me because I wasn’t her.

Mimi said it was because I was the spitting image of her, long blond hair, eyes the color of smoke, and an oval face. I even had a heart-shaped birthmark like hers on my right ear. We could have been twins.

Max opened the passenger door for me on a black Land Cruiser—cha-ching—and then proceeded to clear out the passenger seat that was stuffed with protein bars, books, and football pads. Besides the mess, the car smelled like him, all alpha male mixed with expensive leather.

I inhaled another whiff, feeling frustrated. Dang. Why did he smell so good?

I snuck a quick glance at his well-developed biceps in his tight shirt, taking in the orange and brown tiger tattoo, our school mascot, peeking out from the sleeve. My gaze shifted to his face, and part of me—the crazy part—yearned to reach out and touch his chiseled jawline, maybe run my fingers over his full and pouty lips. I sighed. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but holy cow, he was hot.

With a smirk that said he’d caught me staring, he wiped errant crumbs off the seat and gestured for me to sit as if it were a queen’s throne. “Here ya go.”

“Thank you.”

He climbed in the driver’s side, popped on a pair of Tom Ford shades, and pulled out of the drive. I tried to act cool, but the truth was I was nervous as heck. I opened my purse and applied a rose-colored lipstick I found in there. I’d freaked when that groupie hit my car, and I pretty much ran out of the house with what clothes I could find. I smoothed down my shirt and raked a hand through my unruly hair.

I probably looked like a deranged person.

You are a deranged person, I reminded myself. You asked—maybe demanded—Max Kent take you to class.

In what universe did any of this make sense?

He put his hand on the radio, but instead of cranking up the music like I thought he would, he turned it off. Ocean-colored eyes assessed me.

“So what’s your name? Have we ever met before? Class? Maybe a party?”

“Sunny Blaine, and no, I don’t even like football. I prefer reading—or chess.”

I didn’t know a knight from a pawn!

I hadn’t read a good book in months!

What was wrong with me?

He laughed. “You must be new. Football’s practically a religion at Leland.”

“I went to Southwest Community first and started Leland last year. I’ll graduate this May,” I said. Leland was a private institution with a price tag that boggled the brain. The only way I’d been able to pull off the past two semesters was with an art scholarship and federal grants. Of course there was still the basics to pay, like food and rent—which is why I worked twenty hours a week at the library.

“Big plans after graduation?”

“I love art, so I’m hoping for something in a gallery.” I bit my lip, feeling self-conscious about telling him my dream, but it came out anyway. “Someday, I’d like to own a store that sells clothes I designed. Depends on how much money I can save.” I shrugged, playing it off. “I’ll probably end up working at The Gap.”

“Where you from?”

“North Carolina. I moved here a while back to live with my grandmother Mimi.”

He shot me an interested glance. “What part are you from? We used to vacation there in the mountains. Pretty place.”

“Why the twenty questions?” I asked stiffly.

He shrugged, drawing my attention straight to those ridiculously broad shoulders. “Just making conversation. Why so defensive?”

He was right. Anytime anyone brought up North Carolina, I clammed up. I kept my life before moving to Atlanta tucked away, and that didn’t make me an easy person to get to know.

“Sorry. It’s just . . .” I sucked in a sharp breath, thinking about the other reason for my rotten mood. “My boyfriend . . . we recently broke up, and he’s going to be in our class. We picked out all our classes together last spring.” My teeth tugged at my bottom lip. “I dread seeing him. We had the biggest non-breakup ever. No closure.”

His gaze shot to me. “That sucks. Been there myself recently. I get it.”

“We were supposed to be living together this semester, and I had to find somewhere last minute,” I added. “Thank goodness I knew a professor who wanted me to fix up his house while I live there.”