#Awestruck (A #Lovestruck Novel)

by Sariah Wilson

  Tinsley waved. “Nia! Bring our guest of honor in here so we can all say congratulations!”

  “Seriously, I’m not engaged. I barely even tolerate him.” There were still long-standing feelings of hatred that I was trying to get over.

  “Everybody here thinks you’re engaged. It’s being reported on every tabloid, sports, and news site.”

  This was totally surreal. I did not get it at all. I wanted to turn around and run back into the elevator so I could go home, crawl into my bed, and figure out what was happening.

  As if she sensed my instinct to run, Nia slid her arm through mine and led me into the dining room. Where everyone went completely silent as I walked the ten steps from the foyer to the table. “Just smile and nod. After this is over, you need to give me all the details. I’ll help you get it all straightened out.”

  “There she is!” Tinsley proclaimed, walking over to hand me a flute of champagne. She leaned in to do an air kiss, which I had never done in my entire life. “I thought we should celebrate your engagement! How long have you been seeing Evan without us knowing? And at my party you two acted like you barely knew each other. But I saw the looks he gave you. Even though you were supposedly there with Reggie! Sneaky!”

  Everyone was smiling at me, and I felt like I really had stepped into Wonderland, because nothing was making any kind of logical sense whatsoever.

  My phone buzzed, and as a reflex, I looked down at the screen. Brenda. Again.

  I knew better than to keep her waiting any longer. “Can I use your restroom?”

  Tinsley told me to go down the hallway and take the second door on the left. After locking the door behind me, I sat down on the closed toilet lid and dialed my boss’s number.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded, not even saying hello.

  “My phone died, and I recharged it, but I forgot to—”

  “Never mind, I don’t care. These photos do not reflect what you have been telling me about your relationship with Evan.” She sounded furious.

  “What photos?”

  She sent me a text message, and I put her on speaker to open her attachments. There was a picture of Evan kneeling when he’d picked up the napkin ring. Somebody had shot this from outside our private dining room, out on the patio or at the marina. I didn’t remember seeing a flash. But if someone didn’t know the context, it absolutely looked like he was proposing.

  The next photo made me catch my breath. It had been taken just after the moment that Evan kissed my cheek, and from this angle it looked like we were about to make out. Or like we just had been.

  I could see how people might jump to conclusions, but none of it was true. “In the first one, I’d dropped something, and he picked it up for me. In the second he kissed me on the cheek to say good night. Like I was his little sister. Nothing else happened.”

  “You’re sure nothing happened?” Brenda sounded slightly less angry and also a bit disappointed.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Seeing as how I was there.” Living it and not taking creepy pictures of it. “He apologized, and we reminisced a little bit. Then I drove home in my car, and he went home in his. That was it. I can’t believe somebody took pictures of us.”

  There was a long pause. “I was worried that you weren’t being completely honest with me. I had one of our photographers follow you. Just in case.”

  I gasped. It was such a violation of my privacy. I wasn’t a public figure. Or at least I hadn’t been before Brenda made me one. “In case what?” I asked. Did she imagine Evan would be so overcome with lust that he would throw me on the table and ravage me? Like we were the R-rated floor show for the other diners at the restaurant? Totally ridiculous. And I was trying to be completely outraged, but parts of me tingled at the thought of Evan grabbing me and kissing me.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters that the entire world now thinks I’m engaged to Evan Dawson.” No wonder my mom had called me so many times. She was probably freaking out.

  “Let the world think it.”

  “What?”

  There was a muffled sound, as if she had covered the mic on her phone to speak to someone else. “This is completely perfect. As his fiancée, do you have any idea how much more credibility your story will have when you tell the world the truth about him? You need to stay engaged.”

  “That’s not really a one-sided decision. He hasn’t actually asked me to marry him, and I can’t exactly just start pretending like we’re together.”

  “We’ll strategize on Monday. For now, don’t deny it if anyone asks. If you get approached by the press, just say no comment. There has to be a way for us to use this to our advantage.”

  I agreed to do as she asked, not knowing what else to say. It all seemed so preposterous. The truth was obviously going to come out. It seemed dumb to deny it. But she was the woman who held my future in her hands. I just had to go along with it.

  We hung up, and I contemplated calling Evan. But he was probably in team meetings or doing run-throughs in preparation for Sunday’s game.

  I still had the urge to run home and hide. But I had a room full of women who wanted to celebrate my nonexistent engagement. Time to face the music.

  “There you are!” Tinsley exclaimed when I rejoined them. “I was about to send out a search party for you. We thought maybe you’d fallen in!”

  Several of the women giggled at Tinsley’s stupid joke. I tried to smile. “Sorry about that.” I was just busy discovering that in order to get my dream job, I have to pretend like I’m getting married to a man I’ve spent half my life hating.

  I wondered what they’d say to that.

  But I kept quiet, smiling and nodding as people congratulated me.

  “Where’s the ring?” someone asked, and I looked down at my bare left hand.

  “Did you have to get it sized?” the woman next to her asked. “I had to get mine sized.”

  “It was definitely too big,” I told her, glad I could be truthful about one thing. No way that napkin ring would have fit on my finger.

  “When are men going to learn to either take one of your rings or get your sister or roommate to do it?”

  “How did you two meet?”

  I couldn’t imagine how much worse this would be if I hadn’t known Evan before. “We met in high school. I was a freshman; he was a senior. I had a huge crush on him, and he . . . did not feel the same.” There were some laughs. “We reconnected recently, and I don’t know. Things just happened.”

  The women sighed and said, “Aw.” Nia perfectly arched her left eyebrow at me but sipped at her drink and said nothing.

  “I think it’s sweet that you feel like you don’t have to get made-up. You’ve got your man, and now you’re keeping things casual.” This came from a girl at the far end of the table who sounded like she was on her third glass of champagne. It was meant to be mean, but I couldn’t get too worked up about it. I preferred to be comfortable, and apparently I was the only one seated at the table who felt that way. “I could never go out without my face on. Not when I know paparazzi are following me.”

  I was about to ask why anyone would follow me, given that I was one of the most average people on the planet, when I remembered. At the moment I was engaged to Evan Dawson. And he was one of the country’s most famous virgins.

  Of course people would be interested that a woman he’d never mentioned and never been pictured with was now his fiancée.

  “Big sunglasses are your friend,” someone added. “When you don’t have time to do your hair and makeup, those block most of your face.” Several of the women nodded and agreed.

  This was how bizarre my life had become in only a few days. Getting tips on how to avoid the paparazzi from the Jacks’ WAGs.

  “Congratulations again, Ashton,” Tinsley said, standing up at the head of the table. “But now it’s time to get down to business. Beverly, would you read the minutes of our last meeting?”

  Not caring about whateve
r it was they were discussing, I tuned Beverly out. And tried to figure out how to get out of this mess. If Evan publicly announced that we were not a couple, Brenda would be furious with me. Which was hypocritical, given that it was her photographer who had put me in this position.

  My phone buzzed with another text from Aubrey, but I didn’t open it. My entire family thought I was engaged and just hadn’t bothered to mention it. What was I going to tell them?

  “This Tuesday we have our annual Jumping Jacks hospital visits with the kids, and I’d like for each of the participating players to have one of us as his guide and to help out however is needed,” Tinsley said, her sharp voice interrupting my thoughts. “Ashton, I’m assuming I can assign you to escort Evan?”

  There was no way for me to refuse. “Sure.”

  “Perfect.” Tinsley continued to hand out assignments, and nobody seemed surprised about who they were paired off with. Their meeting closed soon after that, and everyone stayed, chatting in small groups while they ate and drank.

  Here was my chance. I could finally chat up some of the women and see what they could tell me about Evan. I introduced myself to a woman named Natalia. She told me she was currently sort of seeing Finn MacNeil. Poor Rory. She was going to be so disappointed that her crush had a semi-girlfriend.

  “Kudos on landing Evan Dawson. I didn’t think it could be done.” She raised her champagne flute to me.

  “Oh. Thanks.” What were you supposed to say to that? There really wasn’t a good response for it. So I decided to dig around for Evan’s dirty laundry instead. “I can’t be the only woman here who’s dated him.”

  “He and I went out once or twice. Which seems to be about his limit. I don’t remember him ever being serious with anyone. Until you, of course,” she said. Another woman walked up and elbowed her in the side, shooting me a side glance. And Natalia immediately shut up.

  Uh-oh. This was an unforeseen consequence of the engagement story. Unless they were blackhearted and evil, nobody here was going to tell me if they’d slept with him, because now I was his fiancée, and that would be really petty.

  Some of them must have been awful and would have been willing, but I couldn’t see Evan dating a woman like that.

  Could I turn it around somehow? “Oh, come on. There had to have been someone who made it past date three.” I tried to keep my voice light and teasing, to show it didn’t bother me.

  Because it totally didn’t.

  Right?

  The woman who had interrupted us turned to Natalia. “Wait. What about Whitley?”

  Natalia’s eyes lit up. “Right. He did date Whitley for, like, four months.”

  Finally! A lead! “Who’s Whitley?” I was shooting for casual and not overeager.

  “They dated a couple of years ago. She was a Lumberjill who got cut for dating him.”

  “I thought she got cut for putting on three pounds,” the second woman interjected.

  “And why did they break up?” I tried to get them back on track.

  “Nobody really knows,” Natalia said. “Last I’d heard she married some accountant and moved to the suburbs. What was that guy’s name? I think I got an invitation to the wedding.”

  “Something Schultz?”

  That was good enough for me. Whitley Schultz. His ex-girlfriend. She had to have some dirt.

  I had just excused myself in order to do a quick Google search when a text popped up on my screen.

  My lungs stopped functioning when I saw that it was from Evan.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I walked off to a corner of the room so that I could respond.

  “The hotel” was the Davenport, located ten minutes from my condo. The Jacks always stayed there the night before a home game, as did their opposing team (on a different floor). But they had very strict rules, the main one being no women in their rooms. Which included their significant others. And they had a curfew.

  I mean, it didn’t matter to me one way or the other. It wasn’t like Coach Sitake could kick me off the team.

  But was Evan willing to risk getting in trouble to talk to me? That gave me a weird, twisty feeling in my stomach that I didn’t recognize.

  Why? Shouldn’t he have been like most men, running for the hills and screaming to anyone who would listen that he didn’t believe in commitment?

  Maybe he was afraid of what I might say and how it could hurt his perfect reputation.

  That my plans consisted of putting on yoga pants, clearing out some DVR space, and working on my knitting was none of his business. I did need the knitting practice—I was truly terrible at it. My loops were always uneven, and so far all I’d managed to make were lopsided scarves that nobody in my family ever wore. Maybe because of the scarves’ weird holes.

  Plus, I didn’t want him to think I was readily available whenever he wanted to see me. Because that would be pathetic.

  Almost as pathetic as pretending to be engaged to him just for a story.

  I shouldn’t go. What if someone saw me? Took a picture of me sneaking into the hotel? There would be no clean way of getting out of this then. Even though Brenda wanted me to stay engaged.

  It was all really confusing.

  And I wasn’t sure that I was ready to see Evan again. I had all these conflicting emotions where he was concerned. An anger I couldn’t let go of fought with the overwhelming attraction I’d felt for him ever since we’d first met.

  If last night had proved anything, it was that I still thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever known, and not even my residual anger could keep me from desperately wanting to kiss and touch him.

  I didn’t know what that said about me.

  As if he sensed my hesitancy, he texted again.

  He sent me a laughing emoji, and I let out a deep sigh. My curiosity insisted that I go to find out what Evan was thinking and why he thought it was important to talk to me.

  And it wasn’t like something was going to happen between us. This wasn’t a secret code for a booty call. He really did want to talk. About our so-called engagement, apparently. Which I needed to keep in order to make my boss happy.

  That got me a football and a ref doing the touchdown sign emoji. He was such a dork. I was glad he couldn’t see me smiling right now.

  The how part of that might give me some trouble. I didn’t know if it would be as easy as getting on an elevator and just going to the twenty-seventh floor. Did they have security?

  I was about to ask him when he texted me.

  Both cute and annoying.

  The how got worked out quickly. When I returned to the group, Nia grabbed me by the arm and led me off into the kitchen so we could chat.

  “Talk. Now,” she commanded as we sat down on two of the barstools surrounding the island.

  So I filled her in on most of the details of my encounters with him after the basketball game and at dinner. I told her the pictures were misleading but that Evan wanted to talk to me about them before any official denials were made.

  “He likes you,” she said, sounding shocked.

  “He does not. He’s just trying to ease his guilty conscience or whatever. He feels bad about what happened between us years ago, and he wants to make amends.”

  “You keep telling yourself that.” Nia sounded like she did not believe what I’d just said. “I think there’s something there.”

  “You mean besides my resentment and inability to forgive?”

  At that she just shook her head. “Things can be worked out.”

  “The only thing I need to work out right now is how to get up to his room to see him.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Go to the front desk and ask for Mickey. Tell him Nia sent you, and he’ll get you onto the twenty-seventh floor.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her.

  “What? Malik and I don’t like to be apart. There’s a whole work-around for anyone who wants to find it.”

  “Do you think Evan’s had any girls use the work-around?” And for so
me reason the answer felt desperately important. Not just because of my job. I didn’t want to explore why that little jealous emotion had bubbled up.

  “Who knows? And why would you care? Since he doesn’t like you, and you don’t like him.”

  What I didn’t like was her implication, but she was doing me a solid, and I wasn’t going to give her a reason to be angry with me.

  I currently had enough negative emotions in my life.

  Later that evening I drove over to the Davenport Hotel, leaving my car with the valet as I didn’t intend to stay for very long. I found Mickey, and just as Nia had promised, he took me up to the Jacks’ floor, bypassing all the security.

  And I found myself standing outside of Evan’s room, not sure if I wanted to knock. I sucked in what I hoped was a calming breath and rapped lightly on the door.

  It opened almost immediately, as if Evan had been standing behind it and waiting.

  “Hey, Ashton. I’m glad you made it.”

  His dark hair fell forward onto his forehead. He brushed it back, and I noticed that his bright-blue eyes somehow managed to sparkle in this dim hotel hallway lighting. His shirt was tight, clinging to a row of laddered abs that I remembered all too well.

  At that moment Reggie walked by, almost smacking into me because he was once again glued to his phone. He glanced up, looked at me, and then held out a hand to Evan for a high five. “Yeah, Dawson! Get some!”

  Had it really only been four days since Reggie had pretended to be my date? Was I that forgettable? I was about to tell him off for being so completely offensive in what he’d just said but realized he wouldn’t have heard me since he’d returned all of his attention to his tiny screen.

  Evan was trying not to laugh as he held the door open, gesturing for me to come inside.

  Not wanting to sit on his bed, I sat on the couch directly across from it. Evan walked over, and I noticed that he was barefoot. And that he had really nice feet. Attractive, even. I’d never particularly noticed a man’s feet before.