Not by the Playbook: A Fake Relationship Football Romance (Wrong Place, Right Time Book 1)

by Ivy Hunt

  I stop in front of her, my legs on either side of her knees. I waggle my eyebrows. “Ready to celebrate?”

  She fixes her eyes on me, but she doesn’t seem to get the hint. Instead, she takes a deep breath. “We should talk about how to break up.”

  It’s a full-body tackle. My fingers freeze on the second plastic disk as I stare mutely at her.

  “Maybe come up with a plan?” she squeaks when I don’t respond.

  I take one step back, then another, and let my breath hiss out.

  Another fucking plan.

  "I guess so," I mumble. I make a show out of shrugging off my shirt and turn to the dresser to grab another one. "Whatever you want."

  “Well, we both need to stay in Jenna’s good books for now.”

  My jaw tightens. Jenna. It’s always Jenna. For an infinitesimal second, it seemed like Rebecca was actually interested in me. What a chump.

  “Fine. Just tell me how we are doing this.” I thrust a hand through my hair in irritation.

  In the mirror, I see Rebecca pull up the calendar app on her phone. “When does Jenna move back to her place?”

  “She leaves on Sunday,” I respond.

  Only two days away.

  “I see. Can I still stay here?” Becs taps her lips with her index finger.

  I perk up, heart stuttering back into operation, but I keep my expression bland. “So, we continue as we are?” Maybe she doesn’t want this to end?

  “Only until Jenna leaves. I’ll head back to my place as soon as she takes off,” Rebecca says.

  I grunt.

  She fiddles with her hair while I scowl. Her reiterated eagerness to end our arrangement makes the momentarily banked fury re-ignite in my chest. Rebecca can’t wait to be done with me. Step one: get the job. Now, onto step two: cross relationship with Logan off the list. She’s like Jenna that way—resourceful, ruthless, and ready to go after she wants. She made quick use of me that first morning, didn’t she?

  Becs fishes a lipstick tube from her bag and turns to the mirror to swipe on a crimson shade over the neutral tones she’s been wearing. I must be some kind of masochist because even now I want her lips on my dick.

  She continues, oblivious. “Once Jenna leaves, we can tell her we’re still seeing each other, but start dropping hints that things aren’t going well. I’m getting busy at work, you have away games…?” She meets my gaze in the reflection. “We pretend to let things fizzle out. If she asks, we’ll say the relationship didn't feel right to either of us. She won't be able to blame you for that.”

  “Sounds like you’ve thought this through,” I say snidely.

  “Well, I figured we might as well get things going.” For a second, Rebecca bites her lips but then quickly twists them into a smile. “And I’m sure you want your space back. Get things back to normal?”

  “Sure, sure. Normal.” I strap on my belt and violently pull the leather ends together, before punching the prong through a well-worn puncture.

  We finish dressing, neither of us breaching the tension that has settled over the room.

  Finally, I clear my throat and grit out, “Let’s go. Jenna’s waiting.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  BECS

  We’re back where it all started—the club Logan and I met at a week ago. Tonight is hot and humid, but it doesn’t matter. There is no waiting in line. One look at Logan and a bouncer is ushering us in. This is our swan song. The fat lady’s done and the bird is screeching. This time around, I am nursing a glass of white wine, the perfect accessory for a new HR coordinator. Stately and sophisticated. Cool, crisp, and dry in the sweat-soaked air.

  Logan and Jenna chat. I am content to keep my contribution to the conversation at a minimum and bask in the success like the benevolent diplomat that I am. I should consider conflict resolution for my next job.

  How about you start with the job at McCann before planning your next career move?

  I would have been happy to skip the club altogether, and spending the night in with Logan. Instead, I’m in this sweatbox full of swaying bodies, and the DJ might as well be playing death metal. In one corner, there is a group celebrating a birthday, as evidenced by the pair of Mylar balloons shaped in a two and a five. The two is saggy. The air’s leaked out, bit by bit.

  I should be celebrating. And for a second there, I was thrilled. Until Jenna said I deserved the job. Until it hit me that my time with Logan was up.

  What did you expect? Limbo forever?

  There’s a pop followed by a shriek, and then a roar of laughter from the group on the other side. The five balloon is done. Confetti rains down.

  Fans swarm Logan and Jenna. He hesitates, but she waves him off. Jenna and I both watch as his adoring public fetes him.

  Jenna turns to me. “You’ve done well, Rebecca.”

  I smile while my innards twist into a mess of knots. All my attention is on Logan. He is standing by the dance floor and taking photos. It would be wiser to concentrate on the conversation with my new boss.

  A scantily clad blonde woman, separate from the entourage, goes up to him and lays red talons on his chest while her other hand strokes his bicep. My belly is a gurgling cauldron.

  Jenna says something and I respond, but my eyes keep flitting over her shoulder.

  Logan can do what he wants. If he wants to line up his next fuck, that’s none of my business.

  But he’s mine!

  For how much longer?

  I slide another look at him, and my heart constricts as my breath catches in my throat. A little bit longer.

  He laughs at something the woman says, and my neurotransmitters spark. I force myself to keep calm even as my blood pressure mounts. I throw back the rest of my wine. It’s not tequila, but the Chardonnay-courage will do.

  “Will you excuse me?” I tell Jenna.

  Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. But I can’t stop moving toward Logan.

  My teeth gnash together as I navigate the throngs to him. I tap his shoulder from behind. “Hey, I need to speak with you.”

  He turns to me, but his eyes are distant. “Yes?”

  The woman’s grip on his bicep doesn’t loosen until I glare. She drops it to her side with a scowl. Logan doesn’t seem to notice.

  “I need to speak with you!” Looks come my way when I yell, but I don’t care. I yank him by his arm, and his fans separate at my scowl, allowing me a path to march him away.

  I let go when we are in an alcove by the bathrooms and plant my hands on my hips.

  Logan cocks his head to the side, thumbs stuck into his pockets. He arches one eyebrow and waits.

  Chin raised, I face him head on. “Seriously? You couldn’t wait another twenty-four hours before lining up your next panty partner?” I hiss.

  The corners of his eyes pinch and his lips tighten. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Your adoring fan club.” I fling my hand in the direction of the writhing bodies. “You know, maybe you want to wait until your sister’s gone before picking someone else to sleep with.”

  Hurt flickers in his gaze, but that emotion quickly transforms into a glare of annoyance. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  I scoff. “Sure looks like you are doing exactly that.”

  “I was just speaking to her,” Logan growls.

  “Yeah, right.” The arms I have crossed over myself are the only things keeping me from erupting.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Oh no?” I challenge. I know I’m acting irrational, but I can’t help it.

  Cool blue eyes study me, and the lines between his brows deepen. “Well, it’s whatever you want it to be, isn’t it? The world according to Rebecca Gerone,” he sneers. “If things aren’t going your way, just twist them to your satisfaction.”

  I flinch. Is that what he thinks? No wonder he’s ready to rush off. I must have been mad to think that he was actually interested in me. My throat tightens.

  A silence rises and the air b
etween us thickens.

  “You know what? Let me make this easy on you.”

  A ribbon of alarm twists through me when Logan pivots and stalks back to the dance floor, thwarting the efforts of fans who try to stop him for selfies and autographs. He heads straight for the woman. Her crimson lips curve as he approaches her. I am immobilized by the horror unfolding before me as he halts in front of her. He positions both his hands low on her back, just above her ass, and jerks her hips against his. Her smile is coy. Logan’s trademark smirk flashes for a moment and then he bends and kisses her on the mouth.

  Everything inside me screeches to a stop.

  My gut twists, and I clench my fingers hard enough to leave half-moons in my palms.

  A weight on my shoulder propels me to the side of the room.

  “That little shit.”

  Jenna. Fuck.

  I should be scrambling for words to mitigate this disaster, but all I can do is swallow past the tears seizing in my throat. My lungs are collapsing in on themselves, and I struggle for each breath.

  Jenna alternates between casting me concerned looks and shooting daggers at Logan. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes on behalf of her asshole brother.

  “It’s fine. It’s fine,” I whisper.

  It’s not fine. My vision is reduced to Logan and the woman, still sucking each other’s’ faces off. I want to sob for them to separate while simultaneously wishing I could skewer them with fire-dripping ice picks.

  They finally disengage.

  But it only gets worse. He tugs her out the back door of the club behind him.

  Dimly, I’m aware of Jenna saying something, but I can’t make out her words.

  “I…I’m going to go,” I mumble.

  “Can I see you home?” she says, watching me with worried eyes.

  “No!” My head snaps up. I fight to soften my tone. “No, no. I’m sorry. I just…”

  There is only concern in her voice. “You are too good for him.”

  Jenna’s quiet reassurance has my innards clenching tighter. I can’t be anywhere near either of the Barnes siblings because I will collapse in a humiliated mess.

  I stumble through the same exit Logan used into the muggy night. Jenna follows in my wake. It takes my shaking hands two tries to open the Uber app and summon a car. My gaze is downcast as I wait. The worst thing right now would be to run into Logan and his woman, but at the same time I’m petrified I won’t see them. After all, that first night with Logan, we didn’t spend much time getting to know each other, either.

  “I’m sorry about this.” Jenna’s face is a medley of fury and compassion, the most emotion I’ve seen from her. I nod a goodbye and get into the car. The best I can do is a forced grimace until we pull away. When the driver finally turns at the intersection, I rest my head against the leather and let the tears come.

  Chapter Twenty

  LOGAN

  The moment we exit the club, I let go of Anna? Analise? Annie?

  Whatever her name is, she’s svelte with boobs more than a handful and legs for days. Just my type.

  The very thought of fucking her makes my skin crawl.

  “Not tonight.”

  Not ever.

  She pouts. “But I thought we’d have some fun?”

  “Maybe another time.” My arms cross over my chest in a “don’t fuck with me” pose. She sniffs, pivots, and stalks away.

  Maybe I should feel guilty for leading her on, but right this moment I can’t make myself give a shit. I plant my hands in my pockets to keep from wiping my mouth clean.

  It is Becs’s taste I want to recall. The kiss earlier, when she found out about the job—that can’t be the last kiss we ever share. But it was, dumbass.

  I only got one small glimpse of Rebecca’s face before walking out of the club. God, that expression of hurt in her eyes—it will be emblazoned in my brain forever.

  Self-loathing coats my insides. My shoulders drop, but the tension in my head only thickens. I rub my temples and take a deep breath. I could go home. But there’s no way I’m putting myself in a space where Jenna can rip my head off. Hell, I want to rip my own head off.

  My eyes catch on the sign of the seedy-looking bar across the street.

  Stale cigarette smoke greets me. It melds with the scent of nachos and chicken wings. The floor is littered with peanut shells. I head straight to a stool in the corner, avoiding all interested eyes.

  The bartender comes up to me, “What’ll you have?”

  “Tequila.”

  Might as well celebrate. Mission accomplished. Becs’s mission anyway. And all that progress with Jenna? Blown to fuck.

  What did you think would happen, asshole? Not this, that’s for sure. I had started to think that maybe a relationship with Becs was exactly what I needed. Not to impress Jenna or my family, but to fill a hole I didn’t even realize was there.

  A shot glass with amber liquid is placed before me. I down it and sputter. I’m grateful for the burning disinfectant.

  “Another.”

  I thump my chest with my fist a couple of times after choking down the next shot.

  “Again.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and bring my head to my hands. I pride myself on my ability to read people, but Becs totally blindsided me. She should have gotten into acting instead of trying for a corporate job. For a second, I thought she was jealous at the bar, that she didn’t want another woman all over me, that she actually felt something more. Sucker.

  Oh, I know the attraction was real, there was no faking the chemistry between us. It only grew after that first night. But was the sex just a diversion to pass the time? My stomach lurches.

  Should have realized it was all about Jenna and the job.

  I wasn’t what she wanted. There was no point dragging things out if she couldn’t trust me, but like a fool, I thought that I could alter our course.

  It’s useless trying to change someone’s opinion. There was no point in coming up with a plan to make her fall for me. Plans don’t work out. Even with the best playbook to go by, there are no guarantees.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Monday

  BECS

  The overcast sky threatens rain on Monday morning. My entrails are in knots. Not because I am nervous about the new job. Right now, I can’t make myself give a shit about the position I have weaseled my way into. My reflection in the elevator on the way to the fifth floor of McCann’s midtown office shows I’m perfectly put together—black wrap dress with sleeves down to my wrists, black patent leather pumps, discreet makeup layered over a mound of concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes.

  I square my shoulders when I’m escorted into the conference room for the new employee orientation. Four others are present, two women and two men, all from different departments. Pasting on a fake smile, I introduce myself. This is it—adulting. Gainful employment.

  Once we settle, a representative from HR distributes copies of the employee handbook and walks us through it, page by page. I study the woman presenting the company policy on fraternization and sexual harassment. It’s the same one I will deliver to new hires in two weeks. My outfit is almost an exact replica of hers, even my hair is in the same tight bun. I rub my fingers along my temple to ease the tension and note some mental pointers.

  Smile, but keep things professional.

  Keep it to the business at hand.

  Stay calm, but not stiff.

  I zone out a few times, my attention on the rain beating against the floor to ceiling window panes.

  When the hour-long presentation ends, Jenna joins us to give the closing remarks. “Welcome to McCann. We are extremely pleased to have you here. We know the interview process was rigorous, but the hard work is only getting started. Our group is here to support you, make you as successful as you can be.” She tells us more about the company mission before concluding with, “We value honesty and integrity in all our staff.”

  Everything is scripted. So unlike
Logan’s ‘think on your feet’ philosophy. Tears well up again.

  When she’s done, people file out of the room. I stuff my notebook in my bag and stand but Jenna says, “A moment of your time, Ms. Gerone?”

  My body tenses as the room empties.

  “Rebecca. How are you doing?” Those familiar blue eyes are killing me.

  “I’m fine. Good.” I strive to stop my voice from cracking.

  Jenna’s features harden. “What a fucking asshole,” she says under her breath.

  It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping. The impeccable Jenna Barnes is swearing at the office. She did that night at the club as well, but it barely registered then. I was too busy getting my heart broken.

  She continues to disparage her brother. “I should have known he’d pull something like this. Who knows what he’ll do next!”

  I can’t bear to hear her say more about Logan, no matter that he was an asshole.

  “Jenna. Ms. Barnes,” I interrupt her tirade. “I need to tell you something.” My hands are sweating. I rub them against my skirt, trying to be as discreet as I can. “You mentioned honesty and integrity earlier. I…I haven’t been completely upfront with you.”

  Jenna’s lips droop and my heart sinks to match, but I force myself to continue.

  “Logan and I. We weren’t really a couple. We met the night before I bumped into you in the kitchen. It was a one-night stand.”

  Her mouth opens, but I hold out a hand and trudge ahead.

  “I panicked. I didn’t want you to think less of me. The next thing I knew, I was saying that Logan and I were together. I thought that if we were in a relationship, you might still consider me for the position.” My lips quiver. “I didn’t mean to lie.”

  I take a deep breath. “When you left that morning, I begged Logan to go along with it. He only agreed because he wanted to make a good impression on you. He’s always tried to live up to your standards, and I know we both failed you. I am so, so sorry. But please don’t blame him.”