Fake Fiancée

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  I slid my eyes in Max’s direction. His jaw flexed as he watched us dance. There was a possessive streak in him, even if we were pretend. I recognized it because I was the same.

  Bianca wore a wounded expression on her face as she talked to Max. She held a red Solo Cup, her free hand gesturing around wildly at the party—and over at me. She gazed up at him like a distressed kitten. My lips tightened. Poor little Bianca, my ass.

  “He could have asked any girl to be his fake fiancée. But he asked you—a random girl he’d never met before.” He arched a brow at me. “I adore dancing with you, but perhaps you need to deal with him, love. He isn’t going to stop being jealous, and I do have to live with him. Plus, do you really want to let Bianca win this round? She’s over there all over your bloke.”

  I was angry with Max, yet my heart ached for him. Stupid, stupid heart. It didn’t know what to do.

  But Bianca was an entirely different animal. I despised her.

  Was it horrible that even though I couldn’t have him, I sure as hell didn’t want her to have him?

  Making a decision, I said a quick goodbye to Tate and left the dance floor. I edged around the girls as they talked about the game until I faced Max, giving them my back and cutting off whatever Bianca had been saying to him.

  He glanced up at me in surprise, and the air thickened with electricity. Relief flickered on his face. “Sunny—”

  “Finally,” Bianca interrupted. “Here’s the happy couple together.” She glided closer, her sorority sisters’ huddle following as if they were attached at the hip. “Now that you’re here, I must congratulate you on the entertainment during the game.” Her once distressed look had morphed into something hateful. “You have to know it’s very difficult for us to believe, especially since you just started dating.”

  “Sometimes you just know when you’ve met the one. I knew the moment I saw him.” Truth rang in my voice, but I shoved that away. Hard. This was my game now. I came in close to Max and kissed him, pulling back before he could deepen it.

  I slanted my eyes at her when I eased back, watching her face flame and enjoying the satisfaction of it. “He’s a maniac in the sack, by the way,” I added softly. I focused back on my fiancé. “This party’s crowded. You wanna be alone?”

  His arm came around me, his words husky. “I know you hate to leave our own party, but yeah.”

  Bianca watched us with her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so,” she snapped, her body stiffening as she tossed her shoulders back. “Don’t think you can snub me—”

  “He will never be yours, Bianca,” I reminded her. “You had your chance and you screwed it up.”

  Her eyes flashed as her hands clenched at her side, and before I could duck, she splashed the contents of her cup in my face. Beer ran down my nose and to my lips. I wiped at my eyes. My tongue came out to taste the bitterness. I’d never cared for beer.

  A hushed pause came over the crowd.

  “I think it’s time you left my party,” I gritted.

  She scoffed. “You should leave. You don’t belong here.”

  “Enough, ladies, let’s keep this civil . . .” Max started, but I held my hand up at him. My eyes told him everything. You’ve done enough. Step back, mister.

  He got my message and nodded tightly.

  I focused on Bianca. “You’re done messing with me and the people I care about.”

  Max started at my words, but I didn’t dare look at him.

  She curled her lip. “You barely know him.”

  I faked a rush, taking two steps toward her and stopping when we were nose to nose. Her eyes flared, and she hobbled backward. Seeing an opportunity, I helped her along with a little shove—just a tiny one. She lost her balance in her ridiculous shoes. With her arms waving like windmills, she toppled straight into the shallow end of the pool.

  She came up sputtering, shock on her face as mascara trickled down her cheeks. I watched her flounder, hoping I looked a whole heck of a lot more confident than I really was. I hadn’t meant for her to land in the pool, but I’d take it.

  “You bitch,” she shrieked, her wet hair stringy as it clung to her scalp. “You’ll regret this, I swear.”

  Isabella rushed to my side, Ash and Tate behind her. Isabella’s eyes went from Max to me to Bianca. A wide grin split her face and she did a little dance. “Sunny Blaine, you rock.” Then she popped her phone out and snapped pics of Bianca.

  Someone whooped, and several people jumped in the pool. Within minutes, the water was full of people swimming in their clothes.

  Max was looking at me, his face incredulous.

  Tate chuckled. “You bloody shocked him into silence.”

  I tore my eyes off Max’s face, my gaze wanting to linger there.

  But I couldn’t let it.

  I leaned against Isabella, my knees week. I was crashing. “I want to go home.”

  “I’ll take you,” he murmured, moving to come around to my side.

  “No,” I said quickly, holding my hand up to stop him from getting too close. Just being near him made me feel sick. Maybe that was the tequila, but either way, I needed space. “I can’t.”

  His lips tightened, looking at the faces of my friends. “Fine.”

  Isabella crooked her arm in mine, breaking the tension. “I’ll make sure she gets home okay and gets cleaned up. Why don’t you start throwing out the trash?” Her eyes darted to the pool where a wet Bianca struggled to get out on the ladder. Her sorority sisters had gathered around to pull her up.

  “I’ll go with them and make sure they get there okay,” Ash offered.

  I nodded, sent a final look to Max, and walked away.

  Even though I’d had the tequila to dull my pain, I was restless that night when I finally crashed. My dreams were filled with images of Max on his knees in front of me.

  And my body?

  I ached for him.

  I got up at eight, feeling off-kilter and exhausted. After two cups of coffee and a Pop-Tart, I was alive enough to shower. After I got out, I glanced out the window, wondering if he was up.

  I forced myself to forget about him as I dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt. I put my hair up in a messy bun and headed out to the Land Cruiser. Max said it was mine for the weekend, and I wasn’t going to turn it down, even if I was still angry with him.

  There was a note tucked under the windshield wiper blade.

  My heart raced at his scrawling handwriting, and I pictured him sitting at his kitchen table late last night, penning it.

  Dear Sunny,

  I’m a goddam arrogant asshole for assuming you’d be all-in for the fiancée thing.

  You hit the nail on the head, buddy.

  You’ve been such a good friend to me, and I ruined it. I got caught up in wanting a big bang, and when the PR person suggested it, I ran with it. I thought about asking you first, but then figured not telling you would make the moment seem more spontaneous. I also thought it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I was wrong. It was calculated and the only person I was thinking about was myself. If you want to end things now, I get it. I will go to Mimi’s and explain everything. You can keep the money, and I will still pay to get your car fixed. Hell, you can still drive my car. I don’t want you to be unhappy, and I don’t want you to hate me.

  I could never hate him.

  I don’t want to destroy our friendship over this.

  Friendship? I wanted to stab that word with a knife.

  You’re probably asking yourself why we are even friends, and I wonder too why you’d ever want to have anything to do with me again, but the truth is, you make me into the person I’ve always wanted to be. You don’t expect anything from me. I’ve never met anyone like you, and the thought of losing you makes me feel . . . desperate.

  Will you forgive me for asking you to marry me?

  When he put it like that, it was hard to stay mad . . .

  With Love,

  Max, AKA Mr. Quarter
back

  Ugh. I tucked the letter in my jean pocket.

  My phone pinged and I saw it was him.

  Hey.

  I stared at it. Should I respond or pretend I hadn’t seen it?

  I see you.

  I glanced across the street. There he was on his porch, standing bare-chested and staring a hole through me.

  I see you too, I texted.

  Can we talk?

  I shifted from one foot to the next, staring at him. His hair was a halo of dark around his face, his shoulders slumped and his usual grin absent. He looked a mess.

  I don’t know. I have a lot to do today. Some of us have to work.

  Whatever you’re doing, I want to help, was his reply.

  I ignored that. Is the engagement all over the local news?

  Even made Sports Center.

  Nice.

  FYI, pics of Bianca raging in my pool are all over social media.

  Are you mad? I asked.

  Hell no.

  Good. Because I don’t regret it, I typed out.

  Can we talk?

  There was no use in ignoring him or refusing. I got the feeling Max wasn’t the type to give up. But I could make it hard for him. If you want to spend the day with me, you have to help me paint the trim in my kitchen.

  Done.

  And I promised Mimi I’d clean her house today.

  Done.

  You get toilet duty, I texted.

  I peeked up to see his fingers hovering over his phone with a weird expression on his face.

  I’ve never cleaned a toilet in my life, he replied.

  I assumed.

  But what you don’t know is how good I look in rubber gloves, he replied.

  I snorted.

  Show off your muscles today, was my text back. Mimi will need the pretty to help her cope when you explain to her how we aren’t really engaged. I’ve been thinking and I want you to tell her everything—from the day Sierra hit my car to where we are now. I want you to be sweet to her and kiss her butt. You need to make it up to her. I suggest you bring a signed football, a jersey with your number on it, and a maybe a bouquet of flowers. Tickets for the rest of the home games wouldn’t hurt either. Deal?

  I watched his head came up to take me in. Even though several yards separated us, I felt the intensity of his gaze. He sent me a nod and typed out, I’ll do anything as long as you aren’t mad at me anymore. I didn’t sleep at all. I’ve been up since four this morning. I. Am. So. Sorry. Please forgive me.

  Goosebumps flew over my skin. Why was it so hard to stay upset at him? God, I was weak when it came to him.

  You know why, Sunny . . .

  Put some clothes on, Quarterback. We got chores to do.

  I heard his chuckle.

  Give me five to mess with my hair. Don’t want to disappoint Mimi.

  Max

  “YOU’RE BEING BENCHED FOR THE next game,” Coach Williams said when I met with him in his office Monday afternoon after practice. He sat behind a heavy oak desk, framed photos and banners of Leland’s winning seasons behind him. I’d put two of those banners up there.

  I sat in the hard chair across from him. My lips tightened—but I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Getting engaged hadn’t exactly turned out like I’d planned. Yes, the media had eaten up the story, putting me all over the sports news—even the mainstream shows. Good Morning America and The Today Show had both played the footage this morning. We were the new it couple in the media—at least for now. It was good. It kept my name out there, floating around and reminding the voters that not only was I a great player, but I was in love with a sweet girl.

  The problem was Coach was angry and Sunny was still weird around me even though we’d mended fences.

  Mimi had forgiven me. She’d just watched us as we cleaned her house, those eagle eyes dissecting me until I felt like a bug under a microscope. She’d clapped and laughed like a loon when I cleaned her toilet. Heck, she videotaped it and claimed she was going to post it on Facebook—although I wasn’t so sure she knew how to post a video.

  And now I was being benched.

  “Felix will start when we play Georgia Saturday,” he went on to say.

  “I understand,” I said with gritted teeth. I’d known the possible consequences of my actions and I’d done them anyway.

  An expression of sympathy crossed his face. “Son, you’re the best player this school’s ever had. Don’t fuck it up over a girl. The players and the fans will blame you.”

  Fuck it up? I was trying to have the best year of my life. He didn’t know what he was talking about. My PR was eating this shit up, but I didn’t remind him of that. It made him angry to think that I was only thinking about myself. “Yes, sir.”

  After chewing on me for a few more minutes, reminding me of the way last year had veered off course when I’d let Felix and Bianca get to me, he finally ordered me to run miles. I left his office and headed back to the gym where I jumped on the treadmill and hammered out ten miles. Sweat dripped from me as I pushed. And pushed. I had to keep my focus and not get involved with Sunny. There had to be a line between us and I couldn’t cross it because once I did, I’d be all-in with her. And I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

  We’d driven to class together this morning. I kept things cool. So did she. Sure, she’d agreed to continue the fiancée charade, but the closeness we’d had was gone. She was back to building a wall between us. I wanted to pull her out of class, take her to an empty classroom, and just . . . talk.

  But I didn’t.

  That week there were no more visits to the Student Center. No more late night study sessions. I did text her each day to make sure there hadn’t been any flowers left on her back porch. There hadn’t.

  I stopped by Mimi’s house on Tuesday and Thursday when I was done with practice and knew that Sunny was at work. After texting her to see what her favorite foods were, I brought Italian take-out one night and Chinese the next. I didn’t say anything to Sunny about our visits because it wasn’t about brownie points. I felt like a heel for involving Mimi in my scheme, and truthfully, hanging out with Mimi wasn’t hard work. Hell, she was a sharp lady who liked beer and football.

  On game day when Coach announced in the locker room that I wasn’t starting because I’d disobeyed him, the entire team glared at me. Felix wasn’t me and they knew it. Which is why at the half when we trailed by fourteen, I was dying to get on the field. I needed it. Surely, he hadn’t meant for me to sit out the entire game? Hell, that was meant for players who’d been arrested . . .

  But he’d been angry.

  After his pep talk at the halftime break, I went to him, helmet in hand. “Coach, let me fix this. I don’t want the entire team to suffer. You’re completely right about me, and I humbly apologize. I haven’t been focused enough, and I continue to put my own needs before the team.”

  He studied me with a scowl on his face.

  And he walked off.

  Fuck.

  I gritted my teeth in frustration and walked to the back of the locker room where Felix was getting a shoulder rub from one of the trainers. I sat down next to him on the bench. If I couldn’t play, I’d help him.

  He glared at me, his lip curling in derision. “Having a bad day, Kent?”

  Ignore what an asshole he is. Think about the game. “Dude. You need to snap faster. The defense is eating you up—and keep your eyes on twenty-one. As soon as the ball’s snapped, he’s reading you like a book—”

  “Not your game. It’s mine, so back off,” he said curtly.

  I swallowed my pride, refusing to walk away even when it was clear he wasn’t going to listen.

  “Whatever issues we have, you need to let it go. Take my advice . . . please. I have the experience, and I know where you’re screwing up.”

  “It’s not your game,” he bit the words out like bullets.

  I clenched my fists. “I don’t care whose game it is. What I do care about is this team, and if you
want to win, then you need to listen. It takes all of us, Felix.”

  I felt a slap on my shoulder and flipped around. It was Coach, and by the look in his tired eyes, he’d heard me. “That’s the kind of attitude you need to have, Max.” A brief flash of a grin. “Now head out and start warming up.”

  “I’m playing?” My heart jumped.

  “Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “But no more fucking around.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  By the end of the game, we’d beat Georgia twenty-eight to twenty-one. I’d thrown three touchdown passes and had rushed for eighty-two yards. Badass game.

  Ryn was having a party at his place—just beer and maybe a card game. Nothing crazy. I’d halfway invited Sunny, but she’d said no. It was okay, I told myself. I’d decided that the less time I spent with her, the easier it was to forget how much I wanted her.

  I’d been outside by the fire pit for about an hour when Tate walked over to me and leaned down so only I could hear him. “Mate, Sierra’s inside.”

  “No shit.” I jerked up. “Where?”

  “I came out of the upstairs loo, and there she was in line waiting to take a piss. You going to say anything?”

  “Hell, yes,” I called to him as I stalked to the back door. As I made my way through the kitchen and up the staircase I garnered a few slaps on the back and comments about the game and my engagement, and I nodded absently.

  There was a line of about five people outside the bathroom. The door opened and out she stumbled. She took one look at me, rushed over, and tossed her arms around her neck, smelling like beer and stale cigarettes.

  “Max! Oh, how I’ve missed you!” She pressed a kiss to my chest, burying her nose in my shirt. “Did you miss me?”

  No. I pulled back. “Sierra. We need to talk.”

  She crooked her arm in mine and smiled up at me. “Anything for you, Max baby. You want me to go down on you? Come on, let’s find an empty room.” She laced her hand in mine, tugging me toward one of the bedrooms.

  “No.”

  She pouted. “Meanie.”