Fake Fiancée

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

As if she knew what I was thinking, Isabella chimed in with her opinion. “You need to wear something slutty to the next game.”

  “You offering to let me in your closet?” I grinned.

  “I am the best.”

  I laughed and tossed a French fry at her. She tried to catch it with her mouth, making me giggle harder.

  Bianca swept her eyes over at us, as if our shenanigans annoyed her. A sneer curled on her face as she went from me to Isabella.

  Isabella flipped her off, and I laughed.

  But underneath the table, my hands tightened. Yeah. I was feeling possessive of Max, and no way was I going to let her outdo me at the game. I definitely needed to go shopping . . .

  Max

  “GREAT GAME LAST WEEKEND.” THE pretty, twenty-something assistant smiled up at me as she led me into the Athletic Director’s office Wednesday afternoon.

  She indicated I sit in a roomy leather armchair, her eyes brushing appreciatively over my frame as I settled in. “Dr. Carmen will see you in just a minute.”

  “Great.” As usual, I hid my nervousness behind a cool smile.

  As soon as Coach Williams had called me this morning and asked me to meet him here, I’d gotten clammy, my nerves itching at me and making me antsy. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the hell I’d done wrong. No one got called to the AD unless it was bad news.

  I rolled my neck to relax, my gaze checking out the heavy wood furniture, dark blue velvet drapes, and expensive gold medallion wallpaper. I took in framed photos of Dr. Carmen with past players, NFL players, MLB players, and even President Obama. I grew tenser. The place reeked of money and power. It had nothing to do with football, yet it was the place where big decisions were made. This is the office that hired Coach.

  The door opened and three people entered. One was Coach Williams, who sent me a stern eye—pretty much his standard I see you there, player, which he gave us at any given moment. A tough and burly fellow from Alabama, he’d been at Leland for ten years and hadn’t had a bad season—although he hadn’t had a National Championship either. In his fifties, he was completely bald and wore it like he didn’t give a shit. I respected him a lot.

  In contrast, Dr. Carmen was a slim guy in a pricey suit and a pretty tie. Like most of the administrators here, he carried himself with poise and a ready smile. A politician. He reminded me of my father.

  The one person I didn’t recognize was a middle-aged lady in a beige pantsuit. “Ah, there he is,” said Dr. Carmen as I rose up to greet them. I mumbled something about how it was nice to see him again, although I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually laid eyes on him unless it had been the spring athletic banquet. He didn’t mingle with the regular folk.

  We shook hands and he turned to the woman. “I’d like to introduce you to Millicent Walton. She’s going to be your PR person for the next few weeks.”

  My brow wrinkled. “Oh?”

  He slapped me on the back and laughed. “Hey, don’t look so surprised. Everyone’s tapping you as a finalist for the Heisman—especially after that game against Whitman this past weekend—damn, son, you’re racking up the stats.”

  We’d won all three games of the season so far. I nodded and said something about it being a team effort.

  Millicent shook my hand with a firm grip. She was a petite thing with short blond hair, and when she spoke her voice was smooth as silk, her smile direct, and eyes warm.

  “I’m honored to be working with you, Max. I’m an LU alumni myself.”

  “Have a sit, have a sit,” Dr. Carmen said, waving his hands around, seeming anxious to get started.

  “Okay.” I sat back down after making sure Millicent had found a seat.

  Carmen reclined back in his fancy leather chair, steepled his hands on his desk, and considered us. “First of all, let me say that Leland is thrilled to have this kind of attention on the university. We’ve never had a Heisman winner, and it’s an incredible honor to even have it whispered. Of course, last year there was some brief talk of the award, but it never panned out.” He inhaled sharply. “But this year the hype is bigger, and Millicent is here to facilitate a smooth football season for you. She’ll be helping you with your image issues.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter, sir.”

  “I agree,” Coach said curtly. “He needs to focus on the game—not the reward. It’s a team sport—not just a Max Kent game.”

  Dr. Carmen shrugged and grimaced. “This isn’t an option, gentlemen. This is coming from Dean Wood.”

  Oh. The head honcho of the university.

  He turned to Coach and tapped his finger on the desk, the hollow sound echoing in the room. “I know you want a championship. I do too. This—Kent—will get us there. I promise.” His eyes narrowed. “And it goes without saying that every play is crucial. Kent needs to rack up his stats. We’ll need your help with that.”

  Coach’s jaw tightened and his face flushed.

  I tensed. Shit. Dr. Carmen was mucking with his team.

  “I need your support,” Dr. Carmen said again, his voice light as a feather, yet I sensed the tension in the room. “Do I have it, Coach?”

  “You’re the boss,” Coach said, his eyes flat.

  There was an entire undercurrent of politics going on here, and I was right in the middle of it.

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” I asked, leaning forward. I didn’t like the hold he had over Coach, but I kept my face calm. I was in. The Heisman was my fucking dream.

  Dr. Carmen smiled tightly. “First and foremost, don’t screw up. It’s no secret you’re a bit of a hothead on the field, but the key is keeping it where it belongs and not in the locker room or in public,” he added.

  He meant Felix.

  He acted like I got in tussles all the time—it was one incident.

  “To get to the top, you need to be exceptional in every way,” he said.

  I lifted my hands. “I am.” I wasn’t bragging.

  “Right, right. I know you have the 3.7 GPA and you’re pre-med; you respect your teachers and do your work. But you need more.” He nudged his head at Millicent, who’d been listening intently, her head slightly cocked as she watched me like a hawk. Assessing me like I was a science experiment.

  “That’s where I come in,” she said with a confident little bob of her head. “If you agree to my services, I’d like to get started now.” She gave me an expectant look.

  I nodded and settled back as she pulled out a pad of paper from her bag. “Our main focus is your image. Today, let’s talk about your personal relationships, your family, and of course I’d love to set you up with some volunteering opportunities such as St. Jude Hospital or a shelter of some sort. Is there a particular charity you’re interested in?”

  I answered back with a couple that my mom had been involved in, and she jotted down everything at a furious pace. In the meantime, Coach mumbled something about needing to get back to the office. He wasn’t happy.

  Dr. Carmen said goodbye to me and followed him out.

  “What about your father?” Millicent asked after we’d covered the fact that I had little to no family around me.

  I stiffened. “We don’t talk much.”

  Her face softened. “I understand strained relationships, but for the sake of the award, perhaps we could arrange a photo opportunity for the fans and media after one of the home games? I suggest an easy game—homecoming?”

  I shrugged and gritted my teeth. “Sure.”

  She smiled. “Great. And according to your social media—which is very clean by the way, nice job—you now have a girlfriend . . .” she shuffled through her notes and then glanced up at me. “Sunny Blaine?”

  I nodded, getting anxious. “Yes. You’re not, like, investigating her, right?”

  “Girlfriends are good as long as the relationship isn’t volatile. Don’t forget there are pesky little camera phones everywhere—so no public altercations, please. Careers have been ruined with video footage o
f players abusing their significant others.”

  I cringed. Fuck. I’d never hit Sunny. I’d never hit Bianca no matter how many times she’d egged me on.

  She continued. “I’ve quite enjoyed the pics you’ve posted of you and her. She looks good next to you—a tall blonde. Nice choice,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone as if I’d picked her out at the Girlfriend Store.

  Which wasn’t too far off from the truth.

  I wondered what I would have done if she’d said Sunny was bad for my image.

  She ran through a list of things I shouldn’t do, which in college-boy terms pretty much meant not drinking, using drugs, or getting in fights. In other words, don’t be a shithead. I agreed. Easily.

  She also suggested I get a haircut, and I refused. After I explained why I’d let it grow out, she smiled and scribbled it down. “Great material,” she said.

  Her attention to my personal life was enough to make me jumpy. Hell, I was no saint. Obviously. But they sure expected me to be.

  After exchanging times and dates for another meeting in a week, the session was adjourned.

  I let out a sigh of relief and turned to open the door for her but stopped at her next words.

  “Of course, it’s hardly my business what your future plans are, but if you have an inkling that Sunny is going to be in your future, perhaps this might be the perfect opportunity to take it a step further. Like an engagement?” Her voice was hopeful.

  I had suggested the very same thing way back in the beginning when I’d first met Sunny, but when she nixed it I let it go.

  Millicent bit back a smile. “You should see your face. You went white—which means, I guess, that a wedding is off the table.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Disappointment showed on her face and her shoulders slumped. “Oh well, it was worth a shot. People love a good romance, and you two are beautiful together.” She made a pffft noise. “Ignore me. Wishful thinking on my part.”

  But I couldn’t ignore her.

  Her words lingered long after I’d left that office. They’d replayed in my head a thousand times before I’d even driven home.

  A wedding . . . people love it.

  My gut had been telling me the same thing since I’d first met Sunny and suggested the fiancée thing. I headed home, changed into some athletic shorts and a tank, and went for a run. I ran all the way to the football field and just stood there on the fifty-yard line looking up at the stadium.

  I was on a precipice and everything I’d ever wanted dangled right under my nose.

  What was I willing to do to get it?

  Sunny

  I WAS FEELING DEAD ON my feet as I stood at the sink doing dishes after I got home from the library study group. It was past ten and I still had homework to do, but my mood was good despite being tired. Mimi was feeling well after a check-up at the doctor for her flu shot, and I’d aced a quiz in A&P that morning. Studying with Max had helped—which was surprising considering how distracting he was. I washed another glass and set it on a towel to drain.

  We’d gone to the Student Center yesterday—just to be seen. He’d paraded me around, right through throngs of girls ogling him and even some guys. We shopped in the Tiger Bookstore, and when the checkout girl had flirted with him, he’d completely ignored her. He’d only had eyes for me.

  But it wasn’t real.

  Maybe he was already sleeping with someone on the side.

  He was a virile guy. And gorgeous. I couldn’t imagine him not getting laid left and right.

  A creaking noise came from the small back porch adjacent to the kitchen. I stopped washing and turned my gaze there, peering through the small window over the sink. It normally had a clear view of the porch, but it was dark and I didn’t have a light out there.

  There had been a cat out there one night in the neighbor’s yard eating from their dog’s dish. Maybe it had ventured to my back porch.

  I headed over to the table to go through my backpack and work on my notes.

  The sound came again, a scratching sound. Chills ran down my spine. Immediately my eyes went to the door to make sure it was locked. It was.

  But was the front?

  I dashed through the house in my socks, nearly slipping in the hallway when I collided with the entry table that had come with the house.

  It wasn’t.

  Crap.

  I flipped the deadbolt and went back to the kitchen, heart thundering. There’d been some recent muggings close to campus, but that was several blocks from here, yet unease lingered. What if someone had been watching me at the window the entire time? What if they knew I lived alone?

  I turned off the inside light, and with my phone in hand I peeked out the window again, this time squinting and taking in every single detail I might have missed before. I saw my blue garbage can, sitting where it normally does until pick-up day on Friday. There was an old washing machine out there that the landlord had yet to carry off. It wasn’t worth much judging by the rust. Neither were the dead houseplants I’d set out when I moved in. A white cat was next door, eating out of the neighbor’s dog dish. And there you go. That was the culprit . . .

  My eyes went further out, and that’s when I saw it—something white hanging on one of the porch posts. A note? Probably something the landlord left. I had sent him an email earlier that I was going to repaint the kitchen next. He’d mentioned something about giving me a check for paint.

  I really should go get the check.

  The noise had more than likely been the cat next door.

  Okay, go get it then, smarty-pants.

  I grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight—just in case I needed to whack someone over the head—and eased out onto the rickety porch.

  I raced to the post, snatched the white thing, ran back inside, and locked the door.

  It was a long white envelope with my name scrawled across the front.

  I tore it open, but there was no note—just a long-stemmed daisy. With a frown, I twirled it around in my fingers. Soft and delicate with white petals and a spongy yellow center, it was pretty and delicate . . . and my professor landlord had definitely not sent it.

  Was it Bart? He’d sent me several bouquets last spring after we’d broken up, but I’d either turned them away or given them to friends. I paused, recalling my conversation at lunch with Isabella.

  Wasn’t she going to a hump-day party tonight at the Tau house, Bart’s frat?

  I called her. “Hey. Can you tell me if Bart’s there?”

  A pause. “Uh . . . have you lost your mind? He cheated on you.”

  I waved her off even though she couldn’t see me on the phone. “Someone left a daisy on my back porch just now. I want to make sure it wasn’t him.”

  “Okayyyy, let me find the bastard.” I heard her walking around the frat house, opening doors. Someone yelled at her in the background and she giggled. “Oops. Sorry. Go back to fornicating.” A door shut.

  And so I waited.

  A few minutes later, she ventured out to the dance floor, and I heard her pushing and shoving her way through couples dancing to an Adele song. “Bart the Asshole! Where are you?”

  I giggled.

  Sure enough, she found him wrapped up with a girl on the dance floor. She covered the phone, muffling the sound, but I heard his disgruntled voice telling her to fuck off.

  She got back with me. “He’s been with her all night, Sunny. I saw them together on campus today too. Maybe Bart has finally moved on.”

  So it wasn’t Bart, unless he’d gotten someone to do it, and that just seemed scary and way out of character. It wasn’t him. He’d own it. He’d want me to know he was trying to get me back.

  Isabella offered to come over and sit with me if I was scared, but she sounded a bit loaded; plus she’d ridden with her roommate.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “It’s just weird.”

  I told her goodbye, sat on my bed, and looked out the window at Max’s house. His bedro
om light was on, so I texted him.

  Thank you for my gift.

  No response.

  Hello? I typed. Are you there?

  I didn’t get you a gift. Sorry. What did you get?

  Dammit. I really wished it had been from him. I typed, Someone left a daisy on my back porch inside an envelope with my name on it. It’s strange.

  Are you scared?

  Maybe, I texted.

  Want me to come over? Warning: I sleep in the nude.

  I giggled, already feeling lighter. What makes you think you are spending the night?

  Someone left you a creepy flower. I’m staying the night there or you’re staying here.

  He was right. I didn’t want to be alone.

  I can sleep on the couch, he offered. But I know you want me in your bed, Cookie. Don’t lie.

  I pictured his long and muscular frame draped over my small apartment sofa. Guilt flew over me.

  Hello?

  Just shut up and come over, I said.

  Max

  I’D BEEN GOING OVER NOTES in bed when I got her text. I jumped up and threw on some shorts and a shirt.

  “Where ya going?” Tate asked from the couch where he was sitting with Kiki, a girl from one of his classes. They were watching a horror flick.

  “Someone left something weird—a daisy—at Sunny’s. Going to check it out.”

  He arched a brow. “Want me to tag along?”

  I looked at his arm around Kiki and the way her fingers had drifted to his thigh. Yeah. They’d be in his bedroom soon.

  “Nah. If you hear me scream though, come on over.”

  I ran across the street, but before knocking on her door I jogged around back to check things out using my phone as a flashlight. Everything seemed fine. I stalked back to the front and checked the Land Cruiser, making sure she’d locked it. I exhaled, sweeping the dark street. Nothing moved. Whoever had left the gift was long gone.

  I knocked and she opened the door wearing a pair of Minion pajama shorts and holding a hammer.

  I laughed.

  “I know,” she said sheepishly. “I never should have texted you. It’s silly. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”