Fake It 'Til You Break It(52)

Some of my teammates walk by, clapping me on the back like dicks, but it’s Alex who my eyes zone in on and the stupid fuckin’ smirk on his face.

I look back to Demi who focuses on her fingernails until a few of the guys say hi to her as they pass.

Demi gives them tight waves, then slowly slips past me and out the door.

I wait for them to disappear around the corner, then drop my head back. A sigh leaves me and I walk outside to meet her.

I never got my answer.

What if what?





I juke left only to slant right for a quick, short pass, and then Coach blows the whistle.

“Good, good. All right, blue squad off, white on,” he calls, lifting his hands for me to pass him the ball.

Other than the O-line, the rest of the team steps off the field so second string can get a couple reps in.

I grab a water bottle, squirting some in my mouth before passing it to Trent.

He watches as his backup QB steps into the pocket. With a little pressure put on him, he releases too early, throwing an interception on his first drive.

Trent scoffs, looking my way as he hands the water back. “Better hope I don’t get injured. This fool can’t throw for shit. He’s been playing scared ever since he got sacked against Joho a few weeks ago.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s a bitch.”

Trent grins, his eyes moving to the bleachers and mine follow. “Speaking of bitches.”

Josie sits there with her friends like she has the last several years just bullshitting until the last bus leaves.

“Demi asked me why we broke up.”

Trent frowns. “When?”

“Couple days ago.”

“Fuck,” he curses, a deep sigh leaving him as he moves to face me.

I lift my foot to the bench to tie my cleat. “What?”

“She knows.”

My head snaps his way. “What do you mean?”

“Demi. She knows why you and Josie split.”

“You tell her?”

He licks his lips, looking off.

“Trent.”

“Nah, man. I didn’t tell her,” he says. “But I confirmed it when she asked.”

“What the fuck, man?!”

“Not confirming would have been just as much confirmation at that point. She asked me point blank. What was I supposed to say?”

“No. You say no, asshole, or better, tell her to talk to me, and I’ll tell her no.”

“I tried that. She asked me a while ago, and I told her to ask you. What’s it matter anyway? It’s not like she wouldn’t eventually find out, right?”

“I wasn’t ready for her to know yet.” I frown. “This is why she’s been quieter than normal.”

Trent eyes me. “Why didn’t you want her to know?”

“Why you playin’ dumb?” I ask him.

“I’m not, but don’t you think you’re running with this a little too hard? I heard you kissed her in class this week, and I saw you kiss her Monday night.”

“And you care why?” I glare. “I was on her, and? She fucking let me. Baited me the same, if you really wanna fuckin’ know. She’s been single a long ass time, Trent. She likes this.”

“Likes pretending?”

I study him. “Likes the playfulness, the attention, the lack of pressure. I’m telling you, you think she’s this schoolgirl who likes studying but lightly parties with her friends. She is, but she’s not. She’s bored.”

“You hardly know her, Nico.”

“You think you do?” I turn toward him. “’Cause your ma and hers are friends? That don’t mean shit.”

He looks ready to say something but thinks better of it and looks away. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

I sigh, putting my helmet back on and strapping it up. “Look, shit’s twisted right now, so I’m not trying to complicate it even more. And I know the girl better than you think.”

“I’m just saying be careful, she’s had a thing for Alex for a long time. What do you think happens when she finds out the truth, the entire truth?”

Coach Park’s whistle rings through our conversation, so I squirt some water on my mouthpiece, quickly looking back to Trent.

“I don’t know, but don’t help her out anymore, huh?”

I jog back on the field and get into position. I’m not mad at his ass for this because he’s right. If he didn’t answer her straightforward question, that would be an answer in itself. I’m pissed off he has my mind spinning now.

What would I do if she found out now, before I’m ready for her to?

Damn fuckin’ good question.

One that’s on repeat the rest of practice, leaving my chest feeling heavy and my mind muddled when I finally step off the field.

I hang back after everyone’s gone, taking a long shower to try and clear my head before getting in my truck and driving home to a house I hate walking into.

It’s pitch black as always, the curtains drawn as tight as they’ve been for months now, lights off, so I have to use my phone to navigate my way into the kitchen for some water.

There’s a bottle of pills laying spilled over next to the stovetop, an overboiled pot of noodles sitting beside it, raw meat dropped in a pan but never turned on like she got halfway through before the meds kicked in and she abandoned the idea of cooking dinner, something she used to love to do before my dad took her soul with him when he traded up.