The Fake: A College Sports Romance (Smart Jocks #4)

by Rebecca Jenshak

  I need to taste them. I have to know if they taste like summer, too. I ask her, and she laughs and then shocks me a little when she stands and unzips her dress. It falls to the floor, and she’s standing in front of me naked except for the smallest red panties imaginable.

  “No need to guess. Find out for yourself.”

  So I do.

  I kiss every inch of her, starting with her lips. Sunshine.

  Working my way down her neck, my lips caress her collarbone and then dip lower to taste one pink nipple. Lazy days.

  I give the other the same attention and then kiss down her stomach. Carefree nights.

  She quivers and moans as I nip at her hipbones. Endless possibilities.

  And when my tongue finally licks up her pussy, it tastes exactly like summer, but something else, too. It tastes like new beginnings.

  6

  Nathan

  “Oh, my God.”

  I open my eyes and find Chloe, still as stunning as the night before but her face twisted into an expression of horror, peering down at me. She’s clutching her dress in both hands, holding it in front of her gorgeous body. Her very naked gorgeous body.

  “Already saw what’s underneath,” I tell her, voice gravelly from too many drinks last night.

  “Oh, my God,” she repeats and grabs a pillow from the couch and tosses it at my dick. “You have to get dressed and go.”

  I stand and run a hand through my hair, trying to get my bearings. “Everything alright?”

  She’s not paying any attention to me, though. She’s wrapped herself like a burrito in a blanket from the couch and turns in circles, picking up all the evidence from our night together like it’s a crime scene.

  Condom wrappers, wine bottle corks, panties.

  She picks up my shirt and tosses it to me, our eyes finally locking before hers travel down. I glance at the time on my phone. Shit, I gotta get going. “Can I get your number?”

  She doesn’t answer, just moves past me to straighten the coffee table and pick up the empty wine bottles.

  “Here.” I try and take one of the bottles. “Let me help.”

  Her grip tightens. “I got it. You should go. My roommates will be up any minute.”

  “Yeah, alright.” Nothing like being kicked out of a girl’s room first thing in the morning.

  I’m turning my shirt right side out when a door opens and two girls step through. Both tall, one with wild blonde curls and the other a brunette with straight hair and a sharp angular face that’s probably pretty when she smiles. As it is, her cold expression gives new meaning to the term resting bitch face. Sooo, this is the evil roommate.

  Confirmed when she steps fully into the room and takes in the scene. Her eyes go from shocked to taunting. Her tone is condescending as hell when she says, “Good morning, Chloe. Who’s your friend?”

  My surfer princess stiffens.

  “You did catch his name, right? A one-night stand, really? Or is he from a service?”

  A service? Hell, no. Did this girl just insinuate I’m a prostitute?

  After pulling the t-shirt on over my head, I step forward and extend a hand. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m—”

  “Nathan Payne,” she finishes. Her eyes have gone from narrowed slits to wide saucers. “Oh, my God. Hi. Welcome. I didn’t recognize you without your shirt on.”

  Welcome?

  She looks to Chloe like she expects an explanation. “How do you two know each other?”

  We met last night and hooked up seems like the wrong answer so I stay quiet.

  “Actually.” Chloe’s green eyes flit to me and then her spine straightens with some sort of resolve. “Nathan is my boyfriend.”

  I let out a chuckle of surprise and then do my best to hide it behind a cough.

  “You’re her boyfriend?” The brunette’s wide eyes snap to me.

  I nod.

  “I’m Emily.” The blonde with bouncy curls places her hand in mine. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  The other roommate continues to stare at me in shock, so I move to Chloe. “Well, I should get going.” I drop a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll catch ya later, girlfriend.”

  I feel three sets of eyes following my every move out the door. Chloe catches me before I reach the stairs. Her red dress from last night pulled back on and bare feet, she looks like sex on Christmas morning.

  “Thank you for covering for me back there. I panicked.”

  “No problem.”

  She nods. “Listen, about last night. It was…”

  “Awesome? Hot? Unexpected?” I call out adjectives like dirty mad libs as images from last night flash through my mind. The night’s a bit blurry in places, but those long legs wrapped around me and her blonde hair falling around her shoulders as she rode me, taking her pleasure and rocking my damn world, are fucking vivid.

  “A mistake,” she finally says. “I don’t do things like that. Ever.” She shakes her head with what I can only imagine is revulsion at what I thought was a pretty good night.

  “You did it pretty well for someone who doesn’t.”

  She blushes. “I—”

  I cut her off before she can destroy any more of my fondness for last night. “I get it. Last night was fun. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yep.” I turn and head down the stairs.

  “Tennis?” she calls after me.

  I shake my head without looking back. “Basketball, princess.”

  Joel’s in the kitchen when I get back to the house. “What’s up, buddy? I was just about to send out search and rescue.”

  Sitting on one of the barstools, I take the muffin he tosses at me. It’s still warm. “Momma Moreno?”

  “Yeah, you just missed her.”

  “Too bad,” I tease my buddy. His mom is ridiculously hot, and we all like to give him shit about it.

  He gives me the finger. “We need to figure out who we’re going to ask to take Wes and Z’s rooms this year.”

  “Feels weird replacing them.” Both Wes and Zeke graduated in May, and we’ve been dragging our feet to get new roommates.

  “I’m thinking Shaw and Datson. Get our starters under one roof.”

  “What about Wickers?”

  “Nah, he’s got a place off-campus already with his girlfriend.” Joel’s phone vibrates on the counter. “That’s Katrina. I’m heading over to her place before practice. Think about it and if you’re cool with it, we’ll let them know today.”

  After Joel leaves for his girlfriend’s place, I grab a Powerade from the fridge and head up to my room. I plug my cell phone in and lay down on my bed. When it has enough juice to turn back on, I read through the texts I missed last night.

  Wes: Local paper wants a picture of starters.

  Wes: Dude, where are you? We’re waiting on you.

  Wes: ?

  Shaw: Wes is about to blow a gasket. Where are you?

  Well, that sucks. Day one of being co-captain, and I’m already screwing it up. I keep scrolling, respond to a text from Gabby about hanging tomorrow, and then I brace myself to open the final message.

  Frank: Come over at five so I can set you up for the week. Got some new stuff to test out, see if there’s any interest in it.

  I still haven’t told Frank about getting busted. I don’t know why I’m dragging my feet. I know I’m lucky I didn’t get caught sooner. Almost two years I’ve been selling. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being such a big deal. Not getting caught will do that to you—make you believe what you’re doing isn’t hurting anyone.

  It isn’t like I was proud of it, but Heath and the guilt… that’s harder to live with than the logistics of how I was making my money. And I guess that’s really why I haven’t texted Frank yet. Once I’m out, the money will stop, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the guilt.

  One problem at a time. Right now, I need to get rid of this hangover so I can ma
ke it through practice today.

  The next afternoon, Gabby and I are floating on matching unicorn floaties when I give her the rundown of my colossal fuck up.

  She’s quiet for too long. Something distinctively un-Gabby-like. My best friend is never shy about voicing her opinion.

  “Say something. Please.”

  “I think I’m in shock.” She reaches over and takes my hand. “Why?”

  “I needed money. You know what it’s been like with my mom and Heath.”

  She gives me a look that calls bullshit. She’s the only person I’ve confided in about things back home, or most of it at least, but her face tells me it’s not a good enough reason. “Selling drugs has to be the worst way to make money. This could have ended so much worse, Nathan.”

  “I know. I know. Honest. I do.”

  The thing about Gabby is that even when she doesn’t understand my choices, I know she still cares about me. She’s honest to God the best friend I’ve ever had. A few months ago, I thought my feelings for her might be more than friendship, but then she hooked up with my buddy and teammate Zeke. Seeing how happy she is now makes me realize things worked out exactly like they were supposed to.

  “I can’t have a regular job—my scholarship comes with all sorts of stipulations.”

  “I’m pretty sure no dealing drugs is somewhere in the fine print,” she mocks.

  “I was desperate and dumb. I thought it’d just be the one time. I’d make some quick cash to send home and be done, and then… well, it wasn’t.”

  “How long?”

  “Two years.”

  Her mouth falls open, and I know that look will haunt me. It’s not judgment; it’s pity.

  “But you’re done now?”

  “Yeah.”

  She fixes me with a gaze that’s all worry and concern.

  “Really. I’m done, I already told Frank, but I gotta pay him back for the weed and Xanax that Wes flushed. Plus, I still need to figure out a way to make sure my brother has what he needs to get through the next year.”

  She chews on her bottom lip like she’s forcing herself to hold back.

  “What?”

  “Is Heath playing hockey really that important that you’d risk your own future?”

  “It’s not just about hockey; it’s making sure he has the same opportunities I did.”

  “I could lend you some cash. I don’t have a lot, but—”

  “No way. I’m not dragging you into my mess. I got myself into this, I’ll figure a way out.”

  “I could talk to Brady at The Hideout. Maybe you could pick up some shifts.”

  “Thanks, but between practice and school, I don’t know how many hours I could put in. It’d take me forever to make the money working a day or two a week, and that’s assuming Coach would even sign off on it, which I highly doubt.”

  Which is exactly what led me to Frank in the first place.

  Later that night, I wake with a start, drenched in sweat. My chest heaves as I gulp air like I’ve been underwater for too long. Scanning the room, I take in the damage. Mattress is half off the box spring, bedding is on the floor, as well as the pillows.

  The stillness of the house tells me it’s the middle of the night even before I check the time. I contemplate trying to fall back asleep, I’m tired as hell, but I grab my phone and a fresh shirt and head downstairs to work out.

  More nights than not, this is where I end up—in the living room at two a.m. lifting weights. Gabby told me once she works out for the endorphins and that feeling she gets when she’s done like she could take on the world. I work out to chase away the ghosts. Maybe ghosts hate endorphins or maybe they like them and steal all mine because I don’t feel anything like world domination when I’m done.

  7

  Chloe

  School starts and I’ve never been so glad to have an excuse to get out of my room and focus on something besides myself and my teammates, who are still treating me like I’m all that’s wrong in the world. Although, the outright insults have stopped. They’ve been replaced by intense stares that I’m positive have everything to do with Nathan Payne.

  They haven’t asked, but I can see the questions every time they look at me. Turns out he’s kind of a big deal. According to Emily and Sydney, and my stellar eavesdropping skills, the entire basketball team are like gods around here. If they all look like Nathan, I can understand why.

  The Valley campus is smaller than my previous college in California and easier to navigate, but I still find myself walking into both my Monday morning classes just as the professors started. The campus map I studied for an hour is harder to remember while trying to avoid the stares of my fellow students. I know it’s probably paranoid to assume they all know and hate me, but the thought crosses my mind every time someone holds my gaze for a second too long or dismisses me without returning a smile.

  I head to University Hall after my morning classes to grab lunch. I find a table in the corner to sit. Earbuds in, I FaceTime my best friend Camila.

  “You are alive,” she answers the phone, her black hair and olive complexion filling the screen and making me miss home with such ferocity my chest aches. “How’s Arizona?”

  “Awful. Save me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “So dramatic.” Camila looks me over carefully. I can feel her scrutiny even through the screen. “Did you just get done with practice?”

  “No. Our team workouts are in the afternoon. I just got done with my morning classes.”

  “You wore that to class?”

  I glance down at my plain white t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. “Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. It’s just so… casual for you.”

  “I’m trying to blend in.”

  “Blend in where? At a monster truck rally? Honey, it’s the first day of classes you always go all out.”

  Thinking back to some of the outfits I wore to classes at Golden, I can’t argue that I’ve gone more casual, but it feels good, feels like me.

  “Tell me about Valley. How are classes, how’s the team, how are the boys?” She emphasizes the last one with a smirk.

  Nathan’s face flashes in my head and my face heats. “Classes are good, the team still hates me, and I don’t have time for boys.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m serious. No distractions. I’m going to prove I’m one of the top volleyball players if I have to eat, sleep, and dream volleyball.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything. Your record last year speaks for itself, Chlo.”

  “No one believes I earned any of that and you know it. Everything I accomplished at Golden is tainted. This is my chance to prove I can do it all on my own.” I shake my head before she can argue her point any more. “I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me about you. How’s the team shaping up?”

  I listen to her go on and on about my former team, and I’m filled with such longing and sadness I forget to guard against the onslaught of emotions, namely anger, that comes when I remember why I’m not there finishing out my college volleyball career on the best team in the country. The niggling doubt that maybe I never really belonged there isn’t easy to push away either.

  Maybe I earned my spot at Golden, maybe I didn’t. Even I’m not sure anymore. If my parents were willing to buy my way into the college, who’s to say they weren’t also making sure I was getting to play? I hate that I don’t know for sure if I ever truly belonged there in the first place.

  “Tenley isn’t you, but she’s doing alright.” Tenley is the girl who took my place as Camila’s new partner.

  “Thanks for saying so even if it’s not true. I hate the idea of someone else being paired with you.”

  “That makes two of us.” I watch the background change as she walks through campus. Valley’s not so different, but it’s not home.

  “What are your weekends going to be like? Any chance you can come visit in a few weeks?”

  “I’m not sure,” I tell h
er honestly, but I leave out my misgivings about going back. Camila knows I didn’t have anything to do with the scandal that got me kicked out, but not everyone is as understanding as her. And the only people who dislike me more than my teammates at Valley are those people at Golden who blame me for my parents’ actions.

  “I gotta go,” she says. “I just walked into class. Think about visiting. I miss you.”

  “Miss you, too.”

  She puckers her lips to the screen and then she’s gone.

  I take what’s left of my sandwich and eat it on the way to my last class for the day. I find it without getting lost, and I’m so relieved to be in my seat before the professor starts talking that I slump into my chair and let out a sigh.

  I feel eyes on me and look over to see Sydney and Emily a few seats down. I give them a small wave and notice Emily staring from me to a spot just behind me with a strange expression. I turn in my seat just a fraction and look over my shoulder and right into Nathan’s cocky grin.

  Those lips say everything without forming a single sound. Starting with fancy seeing you here and ending with a thousand impossibly dirty reminders of our night together.

  It’s been five days, and I think he got hotter somehow. Memories of the other night play in my mind like a porn highlight reel and I can’t peel my eyes away from him. One-night stands are so not my thing. I don’t mean that in some judgy way either. Sometimes I think I would be better off if I could treat sex as a casual endeavor, but I’ve never been able to really enjoy sex unless I’m super into the guy. It’s a real travesty, I assure you.

  Which is one of the million reasons I can’t wrap my head around the multiple orgasms. I don’t know if it was the Everclear or if my vagina just imprinted onto Nathan’s penis, but I enjoyed the hell out of it. Or what I remember.