The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(29)

“The law!” Lila grasps my arm. “Basement, Ana! You get the nachos. I’ll get Colette.”

“You’re being paranoid. Fight it. He’s not real!” I exclaim.

“Chill. I won’t tell the cops,” Fake River says on a chuckle. “I’m River Lucius Tate. Going to be a fifth-year senior next fall. Maybe. Who knows if I’ll come back? Even I don’t know. My dream is to play in the NFL, but nobody wants a loser, so I need a year to straighten my life out. Oh, and I’m in class with Anastasia. I ride the elevator with her every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It’s an experience. She talks to herself, and I can’t read lips.”

“The mirage is trying to convince us by giving personal details, but it’s my subconscious creating him. Has to be.” I lean into the girls. “Donovan is weird about him.”

“You don’t say,” Lila says. “Because of his snake? It’s big and he’s jealous?”

I choke. “No.”

Fake River gives me a squint. “Why?”

I shrug. “He says you stare at me when no one else is looking. I find it highly unlikely.” I wave my hands in front of him. “Go away. Poof. Disappear.”

“Still here,” he says dryly.

I walk over to him and stop about a foot away. It’s close, too close for us in real life, but he’s not real, so it’s cool. I inhale a deep breath. “He smells like when you eat coconuts and mangoes. And sex, but not actual sex, like semen and woman, gross, but more like an alpha male. Is that weird? Don’t answer. It’s freaking strange. He must be using some kind of citrusy body wash with sex pheromones.”

“Took a shower before I came over.”

“His voice even sounds like his!” I touch his diamond-cut jawline, rubbing my fingers over the prickly dark shadow there. “His scruff tickles.”

“He can tickle between my legs,” Lila says as she chews.

“Hussy,” I say on a laugh. “But, mmm, yeah.”

“We can make that happen,” Vision River murmurs as he gazes at me.

“Don’t talk,” I tell him sternly. “Technically, you should only say things I want you to say.” My thumb ghosts over his pouty bottom lip. The skin is soft, the color a dusky pink. “Mind. Blown. I’ve created him just from memory. Maybe I did get some of the artist gene from my parents.”

Lila scrunches her nose. “But, don’t you think it’s weird that all three of us see him? I mean, I understand you seeing him, but how are you getting in our heads at the same time? Is it telepathy?”

“Pot makes us powerful.” My fingers go to his hair, tugging on the longer strands on top as I twirl them around. Like spun silk, the golden highlights sparkle under the kitchen lights.

I run my hands over his scalp and dig in, and he lets out a small groan, leaning into my touch. “You’re gonna regret this tomorrow,” he murmurs.

“In the end, we only regret the things we didn’t do,” I tell him.

“Amen!” Colette says.

“Gonna get that tattooed on my ass!” Lila calls out. “Tattoo parlor! Let’s go!”

“Next time, Lila,” I say absently, not really paying attention, not with Fake River in front of me.

His chest rises as he leans closer and our eyes cling. “You hate me, baby girl, but it’s hard to tell you no when you’re like this,” he murmurs. “I could get used to high Anastasia.”

“I hate you?”

“Mhmm. I’m a tool. And cramps. And an unsalted pretzel. That one made me laugh about ten times today. I went to the snack spot in the student center and bought one in honor of you.”

My hands land on his broad shoulders, kneading into the muscles there. “He’s solid and hard.”

“So many jokes there,” Fake River murmurs.

“Can I touch the vision?” Lila asks.

“No. He’s mine,” I reply.

She snorts. “You’ve got a thing for him. Your eyes linger on him a little too long, Ana!”

“No, I don’t! I’m merely checking out the awesomeness of my mind’s abilities. Some scientists believe we only use about ten percent of our brain, so it’s possible we’re accessing the creative side that isn’t used much.”

His eyes lower as I brush my fingers over the strong column of his throat then go back up. I trace the outline of his patrician nose, the straight bridge, the slight bump at the top where he might have broken it, the shape of his dark brows, then I’m back to his lips.

“Well played, God,” I whisper.

I inch closer, wondering—

His teeth nip at me, and I scream and jump back, nearly tripping as I grasp the edge of the counter. He gives me his lethal smile and his eyes roam over me, lingering on my exposed stomach before coming back to my face. “You’re skating on thin ice, Anastasia. If you were in your right mind, you’d never get that close to me.”

Three seconds pass, then…

“He’s real, Ana,” Lila says breathlessly, wonder in her tone. “You don’t have a photographic memory, and he is the exact replica. But…why is he here? Oh my God, I can see the headlines now: Three girls murdered by football player. It’s Ted Bundy all over again! I changed my mind about the cops! Someone call 911!”