The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football #1)(28)

An hour later, our buzz hits.

I’m singing “Wonderwall” by Oasis on top of the coffee table. “I sound great,” I tell them, but Colette laughs at me from the floor. Lila goes to the front door then reappears with Chinese takeout that no one recalls ordering, but I suspect she’s messing with me.

We head to the kitchen. Leftover nachos and cupcakes litter the counters as we dig into the Chinese food.

Colette chomps on a tube of frozen chocolate chip cookie dough as I eat an egg roll. The mix of crispy flour and lettuce is freaking amazing. I dunk it in the sweet sauce and decide the color of the egg roll shell is the same as Donovan’s hair.

F him.

“Even birthday fiasco aside, Donovan and I are off,” I say. “It’s like, we’re circling this awful thing and don’t want to acknowledge it.”

“He’s stuck up. Let’s go beat his stupid Tesla with a baseball bat,” Lila says with quiet venom, looking fierce. “We’ll call an Uber, do the deed, maybe swing by Pizza Hut for a supreme on the way back.” She’s already grabbing the metal bat we keep in the corner for intruders.

“We have plenty of food,” I remind her calmly.

She swings the bat over her shoulder, and I giggle and take it away from her. “Simmer down, Lila. I know you’re pissed at him, but we aren’t going anywhere while we’re stoned—”

My words are interrupted by a deep voice.

“Anastasia Bailey is high. My, my, my,” a man says, dragging out the words in a low tone. He makes a tsking noise. “I need evidence. Haven’t blackmailed anyone in a while.”





8





We freeze at the masculine voice and collectively turn to the doorway that leads to the den. Lila squeaks, Colette blinks—and my mouth drops open. A piece of lettuce tickles my lip and I swipe at it, then shake my head to clear it.

Doesn’t work.

A massive, tattooed hottie is in our kitchen.

He holds up his phone. “Say cheese. Or egg roll. Whatever works.” Finished, he tucks his cell back in his pocket and leans against the doorjamb. One maddening eyebrow goes up as he smirks at me. “Hey, you.”

“Hey?” is my reply.

Lila clutches my arm. “Is that River Tate or am I hallucinating?”

“Can we have the same hallucination?” Colette asks as she slaps her hand on the counter and picks up the cookie dough—all without taking her eyes off River.

“He’s not real,” I say with conviction, the idea simple. “I manifested him because he wished me happy birthday. He’s been on my mind—very irritating, if you must know. Somehow my brain is a movie projector and there he is. It’s science.”

“Makes sense,” Lila agrees. “He’s a hologram. So cool.”

I inch forward. “Ever noticed his eyes? What is up with that color? It’s not blue, not gray, but something in between. Like dove feathers touching the sky. They darken to molten silver when he’s emotional.”

“You noticed?” the vision asks.

“Like I wouldn’t,” I say.

“You’re quite poetic, Anastasia,” Fake River says.

“You noticed?”

“Like I wouldn’t,” he replies.

A tingle dances down my spine.

He smiles then bites his bottom lip and rakes a hand through his messy hair, and I swallow. It’s not often his visage is happy to see me, and Fake River is strangely happy as he looks at me.

I close my eyes. Disappear! I say in my head.

Still here.

“Lila, was there acid in that weed?” I ask warily.

“No. I get my stuff from Mason, the motocross guy. He’s topnotch—in bed and with the weed.”

“I know him,” Fake River murmurs. “Nice guy.”

Around her chews, Colette says, “You think you can project his pants off so I can see the snake?”

“Snake?” Fake River asks.

“It’s what we call your penis,” I admit with a shrug as I wave my hands at him. “Because of your tattoo.”

“You called me Snake today,” he says. “Were you actually talking to my dick?”

“No!” I huff. “It’s confusing, okay?”

Lila taps her chin. “Is he circumcised? I’ve never seen one that isn’t. Show us, please, Ana. Purely for the research of course.”

“No,” I say adamantly. “It’s sexualizing him, and demeaning. He’s a person.”

“Use your magic mind and take his shirt off at least,” Colette says. “I wanna see that six-pack.”

“I wanna see his snake!” Lila declares. She emits a hissing sound, sssssss.

I slap an egg roll in her hands. “Here. Eat this.”

She stares at it. “Not what I wanted. But. Okay.” She takes a bite.

I look back at the mirage in the doorway. “Go away. You’re messing with our mojo.”

“He’s still here,” Colette whispers. “Should we get the bat?”

“He’s not really here,” I insist. “Why would River Tate walk into our house uninvited?”

The hologram rolls his eyes. “Your door was cracked. I heard the giggling and came in when no one answered. It smells like reefer in here, by the way. Imagine my surprise when I catch you being naughty. Breaking the law. Always knew you had a wicked streak.”