“Actually…” He sticks his head into our dorm. “Jane, did you finish your blog for media class?”
“Yeah, I finished yesterday.”
“Can I look at it?” He asks.
“Seriously?” Jane raises her brow. “You’re just going to steal my ideas? No thanks.”
“Do you want the answers for next week’s quiz?”
Jane’s eyes grow wide. “You have those?”
“In exchange for a peek at your blog.”
“Absolutely not! Do your own work.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll go bug someone else then.”
“Please do!”
I try to close the door again but his foot is still in the way.
“But seriously,” he says, “I have the whole night off and I’m looking for someone to Netflix and Chill with. Mostly chill, if you catch my drift.”
“No!” I try to close the door again.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a string of condoms. “I’ve got twenty of these bad boys and I’m ready to use them.”
“Ew—” Jane squeals.
“Can you please leave?” I push him out into the hallway and join him out there, closing the door behind me so that Jane can’t hear. “Can you stop bugging me?”
“I thought we had something good going on.”
“No, we don’t. We discussed it, remember? What we did was a one-time thing.”
“Well, if we’re not gonna do it again then maybe I should tell everyone what we did.” He gives me a smarmy smile.
“What?” I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Okay, well, if you do that, then I’ll tell everyone it only lasted six seconds.”
His eyes grow wide. “You wouldn’t!”
“I really would though.”
“But then you’d admit to everyone that we did it, that you like me.” He smirks again.
“Not because I liked you, but because you were…”
He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Sexy?”
“Easy,” I blurt out.
“Oh.” He seems hurt for all of two seconds before shrugging it off and leaning in. “Well, if you want something easy tonight—”
I put my hand up. “That won’t be happening. I don’t owe you anything and you don’t owe me anything. This is over, okay? Go be easy with someone else.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You’re not even that hot anyway.” He pulls away.
“You didn’t think that ten seconds ago,” I call out as he walks away. He disappears around the corner and I shake my head. Why did I ever let myself sleep with that guy? Because I don’t date, I remind myself. A girl’s gotta get off somehow, right? Swallowing back the regret, I go back into my dorm room.
“What was that about?” Jane asks.
“Nothing, just telling him to leave us alone.”
“Good. What a creep.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. I sit at my desk and continue with my homework.
“I gotta go.” Jane jumps off her bed and grabs her purse. “Manhattalyn and I are going to have coffee together.”
“Manhattalyn?” I hold my tongue.
“Brooklyn’s sister.”
“Err... right.”
“See you later tonight?” Jane checks her hair in the mirror.
“I’ll be right here, working away as usual.” I look at the tower of homework.
“You’ve gotta get out more, girl.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumble.
She disappears and I work until the sun starts to set. When I finally take a break, I pull my phone out to browse the internet for a bit. When my home screen flashes on, I see the Green Light app. I open it again and stare at the profile that I started filling out the previous day.
It’d be absolutely insane to make someone pay to go on a date with me. But on the other hand, if what Jane says is true, I’d only have to go on a handful of dates to pay off my entire student loan debt. Besides, my fake date can’t be worse than Keith, right?
I’d be crazy to…
My finger lingers over the ‘edit profile’ button.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Clicking the button, I fill out the rest of my profile and select my preferences. Willing to travel? I select the Seattle area only. PDA? I look up the acronym—public displays of affection. I set that preference to ‘mild’, which includes hand-holding and public hugs. Price range? Now, this is a weird one. I’ve never had to put a price on myself before. Considering for a moment, I set the price unreasonably high, hoping that the exorbitant amount will make this all worth it.
Biting my lip as I stare at the bright green ‘ACCEPT’ button, I think about what I’m about to do.
I can’t believe I’m considering this.
I can still back out… But I see the dollar signs shining bright, dancing naked in front of my eyes, taunting me. This is the only way I’ll pay off all that debt.
Just one night, I tell myself. I can do this for one night and I’ll have ten grand to put toward my student debt. That’s a huge chunk of money. After that, I can cancel the app and I’ll focus on graduating and applying for jobs to pay off the rest of my debt. Taking a huge breath, I push ‘ACCEPT’. As I stare at the screen, I feel my heart racing in my chest.
Low-key freaking out, I throw my phone onto my bed and rub my face.
“What the fuck did I just do?”
Panicking, I spring across the room and grab my phone but before I have a chance to push ‘CANCEL’, a notification pops up saying I’ve been matched for Saturday night.
LOGAN
Following the directions Spinner sent to my phone, I drive to the library next to the University campus. It’s a strange place to meet for a date but Spinner said that’s the address my mystery date gave.
Rain is coming down and the sky is dark. As I pull along the side of the library, I see a woman holding an umbrella standing under the awning. She’s wearing flats and I can see a dress under her long trench coat. That must be her. She peeks out from under her umbrella. I flash the lights and she hesitantly makes her way over.
This is ridiculous, I think to myself. But if this will clean up my image, then I have no other choice.
The car door opens and the woman looks inside. Striking pale gray eyes connect with mine. She’s not wearing her glasses but I recognize those gray sea-glass eyes anywhere. It’s her. The mystery woman from the locker room.
A flood of thoughts rush through my head: Is this investigative journalism? Is she writing an exposé on me? But why would she do this? Who is she?
This situation is already messy, but leaving her here and driving away won’t make things better.
“So, we meet again,” I say.
The color drains from her face when she recognizes who I am.
“Oh. Umm… I must have the wrong car.” She pulls back.
“Riley?” I hold up my phone, showing her the information Spinner sent me. “Your name is Riley, right?”
“Shh.” She looks around as if someone might recognize us. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Get in,” I say. “Before you get too wet.”
She hesitates before awkwardly collapsing her umbrella and climbing into the passenger seat. I put the car in park and face her. Her blond hair is half up, half down and although she’s wearing much more makeup tonight than she was the other night, she’s just as cute in a dorky kind of way. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it again. Her gaze darts down and to the side.
“Who are you?” I ask. “Jane, the student journalist from the University? Riley, my fake date? Do you have any other fake jobs I should know about?”
A sarcastic laugh escapes her lips along with the strawberry scent of her lip-balm.
“Okay,” she starts, “first of all, I do not do this all the time. Or ever. This is a one-time thing. I’m not a journalist either. I did that as a favor for a friend. I’m Riley, a student majoring in biomechanics and physio.
“I study the movement and structure of the body.”
“I could’ve guessed that.”
“How?”
“You know a lot about muscles and movement. I figured you were in physio, or sports medicine, or something medical.”
She smiles.
“What?” I ask.
“I thought you were going to say it was because I’m nerdy.”
I laugh. “Well, you are a bit nerdy.”
“Hey!”
“It’s okay, it’s cute.” I flash a glance at her. She bites her smile back and looks away.
“And you?” She asks, still looking down at her hands. “Why does international hockey star Logan Drake need a fake date? You told me women don’t say no to you.” She looks back up.
I sink back in my seat. “I’m trying to fix my so-called ‘bad boy reputation’. Some really unprofessional and amateur journalist asked me about it the other day and I thought she had a point.”
She raises her eyebrows. “So, your solution is to hire someone to date you?”
“As soon as they see me as just another guy, they’ll focus on what matters—hockey. Everything has to be perfect for me to win the Corazon trophy this season.”
“The Corazon trophy?”
“It’s the trophy for the most valuable player, as determined by all the hockey journalists. They vote at the end of the year, which is why I need to impress them all.”
She rolls her eyes. “Here’s a little insider tip.” She leans in. “Fake dating isn’t going to make your image any better.”
“It’s a good thing nobody will find out then.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m not going to tell anybody and neither are you.”
She pauses and stares out the window at the other students walking by. Rain is starting to come down harder, trailing down the windows.
“You’re right. Nobody can know I ever did this. On second thought, I should go. This was a stupid idea anyway.” She places her hand on the handle.
“Wait—”
She stops. “What?”
I stare at the beautiful woman sitting next to me. It’s rare for a woman to turn down a date with me (even if it’s a fake date), and it’s even rarer for people to turn down money. Something about her is different.
“Come to the gala with me tonight,” I say.
“Seriously? You still want me to go with you? Even after I asked you that dumb question in the locker room?”
“Sure. We’re already all dressed up, aren’t we? Just pretend you’re my girlfriend long enough to impress the journalist that’s going to be there tonight, Jake Turner. Make him think I’m more than just a party guy so that he’ll warm up to me. You’ll get your money. Everybody wins. It’s foolproof.”
“It’s not foolproof, it’s stupid. If we get found out, it’d be a huge scandal! You’ll get dragged by the press and I won’t get accepted or hired anywhere. Schools and hospitals are going to search my name before they hire me, you know. The risks outweigh the benefits.”
I chuckle.
“Why are you laughing?” She sits back, eyes wide and arms crossed.
“Not many people usually tell me I’m wrong.”
“Well, maybe they should start!”
I smirk. “Okay, how about I write a check for double what you originally wanted.”
“Holy crap, are you serious?”
I pull my checkbook out of the glove compartment.
“Yeah, why not? You need the money and I need to impress that journalist.” I write the amount onto the check.
“Here.” I hold it out to her. “This is yours if you help fool Turner into thinking I’m some soft, sensitive soul who always thinks twice before doing anything impulsive.” I laugh. “Yeah right.”
Her gaze moves from the check to my eyes. Her stoic expression continues to elude me.
“Come on,” I say. “We’ll eat good food and you can hang off the arm of the most handsome and skilled player in the league.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re not full of yourself.”
I smirk. “So, what do you think?”
Her eyes linger on the check. She exhales deeply. “Oh boy, I can’t believe I’m considering this. If this gets out—”
“It won’t.”
She stares at me for a moment with those stunning sea-glass eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it. Under several conditions… First, no kissing.”
“Got it, no kissing.”
“Second, this is only a one-night thing. This fake date lasts until midnight.”
“Aww, it’s like our very own fairy tale.”
She sends me a venomous look before continuing. “And, lastly, if this check bounces and you’re lying to me, I want twice the amount in cash.”
I smile. “Is that all?”
Her forehead wrinkles. “I think so.”
“Great, so it’s a date. Should we go, then?”
She nods hesitantly. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You’re steaming up the windows.”
“Oh.” Her hands touch her cheeks. “Sorry.”
I laugh. “I was referring to the rain on your clothes but it’s good to know that you’re blushing.” I turn the air conditioning on.
She looks down at her damp coat. “I knew that.”
I smirk as I put the car in drive. “Let’s do this.”
***
Once we arrive at the gala, I hand the keys to the valet and help Riley out of the car. We check our coats and I catch a glimpse of her in an elegant black cocktail dress. A dainty necklace with a rose pendant hangs delicately on her neck.
I reach for her hand but she pulls back abruptly.
“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t expect us to hold hands.
“Your rules said no kissing but there was nothing about holding hands.”
“Is it necessary?”
“I just thought if we’re dating, it’s more believable if I’m holding your hand. That’s just the type of guy I am.”
“Oh. Right.” She awkwardly puts her hand out and I interlace my fingers with hers.
“Are you ready?”
She nods. “As ready as one can be.” She’s still stiff as a board.
“You can relax, you know.”
She gives me a tight smile.
Squeezing her hand, I pull her into the gala. People in suits and dresses are socializing all around us—hockey players, sponsors, politicians, journalists. Waiters are weaving in and out of the crowd, serving drinks and appetizers. A string quartet plays jazz standards in the corner.
Riley tugs on my hand, stopping me as she shrinks back.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It’s just… I’m not used to big crowds and parties. I spend a lot of time alone.”
“Let me guess—studying?”
She gives a quick nod. She looks around the gallery but it’s clear she’s lost in thought.
“You were never a social kid, were you?”
Looking at me, she sharpens her gaze. “I was a very timorous child growing up.”
“Tim…berous?”
“Timorous,” she repeats. “It means I was a bit hesitant, fearful. I lacked confidence.” She clears her throat.
“Well, on my arm, you don’t have to feel that way.” I give her a quick wink and instantly regret it. Why am I like this?
She rolls her eyes. “I guess you were never lacking in the self-confidence department.”
“Not really, no. But come on, you don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid. I’d just rather be studying.”
“No studying,” I say. “Tonight is for relaxing.”
“Studying is relaxing. This?” She looks around at all the people chatting. “This is stressful.”
I laugh. “And you were offended that I called you a bit nerdy.”
“Only I’m allowed to call myself nerdy.�
��
I smile. “Noted. Look, this doesn’t have to be intimidating. Just do what I do.” I let go of her hand. “Shake out your shoulders like this, then roll them back.”
I shake my shoulders and she mimics my movements.
“And then stretch your neck like this.” I tilt my head to one side.
She copies me, tilting her head to one side, then the other. She closes her eyes.
“Oh, that feels good,” she says.
“See?” I watch as she sinks into the feeling. I can’t help but admire her long, slender neck and her smooth flawless skin.
Among all the hockey players and older men in the room, Riley stands out like a peach in a pile of pineapples.
Her pale gray eyes flash up and catch me staring. Looking down and away, she leans in, bringing that sweet strawberry scent with her. “You’re staring at me, Mr. Drake.”
“I can’t help it. You look beautiful.”
Her cheeks grow pink and she averts her gaze.
“I know this is all an act,” she says, “but you can tone it down when we’re alone.”
“I’ll reign it in. It’s just weird being a—” I look around and lower my voice, “a fake couple.”
“I know. I’m not used to it either, but let’s save the couple stuff for when we’re actually around other people.”
“Noted. Come, let’s look at the paintings.” I take her hand again and I can’t help but notice how comfortable it fits in mine.
As we walk through the gallery, the chatter fills the room and waiters weave through the crowd with drinks. I grab two gin and tonics and hand one to Riley as we walk toward the art pieces.
“So, why biomechanics?” I ask.
“It’s what my Aunt Mary did.” She touches her necklace. “She was very important to me growing up. She was an incredibly smart woman who ran the biomechanics lab here at the university for twenty-five years.”
“That’s very impressive.”
She nods. “She used technology to help a lot of people learn to walk again.”
“Suddenly being a hockey player doesn’t seem that impressive.”
“Hockey is still impressive. Maybe not as impressive. But still impressive.” She gives me a devilish smirk and I suddenly feel something unexpected stir deep inside me.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I clear my throat. “So once you get your degree, what do you want to do?”
Logan Page 4