I pulled her off to a corner at the end of the hall as far as I could get from people. “You hit my fiancée’s car a few weeks ago when you left my house.”
She scrunched up her face as she swayed on her feet. “I—I don’t really remember. Did I? I don’t think so. That doesn’t sound like me . . .” her voice trailed off.
“You did. She saw it. You can’t be drinking and driving.”
Why did I have to explain this to a grown woman?
She wrapped her arms around my waist, her hands landing on my ass. “God, you’re so sweet to be looking out for me. That’s why you’re my favorite. I want you so bad right now . . .”
I set her away from me and stared down at her, trying to make her eyes meet mine, but they kept bouncing around. “Sierra. Listen to me. I’ll cover your little accident this time, because I don’t want to explain it, but if you come to my house again, I’ll call the cops. Don’t even think about picking my lock. Don’t let Felix talk you into shit. Do you understand?” I bit the words out.
She blinked up at me. “This Sunny girl . . . she’s got you all tied up, huh?”
“None of your damn business. But stay away from her too.” A muscle twitched near my eye as a theory formed. “You didn’t leave a daisy at her place, did you?”
Confusion flitted across her face. “What do you mean? That’s ridiculous.”
“Whatever. Just stay away from her or I’ll make sure all your football players know how you like to wreck cars when you leave their place. Got it?”
She straightened her shoulders and slurred, “I don’t like you anymore.”
“Good.”
Her face fell. “I’m sorry. I do like you. I want you.” She leaned in and kissed me on the mouth, her tongue all over my face, licking and trying to get past my compressed lips.
I pushed her off, but not before she responded with her own laugh and flounced away, weaving from side to side as she made her way back down the hall.
I glanced over and Bart stared at me.
“What are you looking at?” I barked.
He said something to the girl he was with then came up to me, a hardness to his face that I’d come to recognize whenever we faced off.
He was tall—but not as tall as I was. I glared down at him. “You got something to say?”
“I heard what you said to the groupie.”
“Yeah, so what?” I shrugged, leaning against the wall, but make no mistake, I wasn’t relaxed. Nope. I’d be glad to ram my fist into his face and work out some of this frustration eating me up.
“I’m impressed . . . turning her down when Sunny’s nowhere around?”
I gritted my teeth.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I really thought you didn’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“You don’t know me—so don’t assume I’d dick around like you did.”
He stewed on that, his mouth flattening. He stared back at the girl he’d left near the banister, then he focused back on me and raked a hand through his auburn hair. “Just . . . be good to her, okay? Because I was a shit, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late. I’m trying to be better now.”
“You wish.”
“She deserves someone good. You better be it.”
I crossed my arms. “You still love her?”
He swallowed, looking away from my eyes.
And wasn’t that my answer?
“Fuck off,” I said and brushed past him, needing to distance myself from Bart and his feelings. It reminded me that someone had once been crazy in love with Sunny . . . and it hadn’t been me.
She’d had someone before me.
Someone real.
An hour later I was sick of the party and back home. I sat on my porch with my phone in my hand thinking about Sunny.
Drunk texting was never a good idea—so why was I contemplating it?
I glanced at my watch. Midnight. I checked her house from my seat on the steps of the porch. Yep. All the lights were out.
Are you awake? I sent her.
She didn’t reply.
I texted her again. Hello. Are you there?
This better be a freaking emergency. I was sound asleep until my phone buzzed.
I need you.
I pictured her sitting up in bed and staring at the phone with sleepy eyes.
Why?
I want to see you. Now, I sent.
You’re demanding.
I know.
And an asshole, she added.
I know.
But I like you.
A sigh of relief came from me. God. I’d needed to hear those words since the fake proposal. I closed my eyes, imagining her in her tank top and flannel shorts, her breasts straining against the fabric, her nipple piercing begging for my tongue. I groaned, shifting in my jeans. Down, boy.
I’m sorry, I said.
For texting me?
For everything. You can give the ring back if you want. I deserve it.
We’ve moved past that now.
You can keep it when it’s all over.
Is it real?
Yes.
Did you pick it out?
I paused. Tate did. One of the groupies works at the jewelry store.
A few ticks went by.
I asked her, Does that bother you?
Would you pick out your real fiancée’s ring?
Yes.
We’re fake, so it’s fine. Right?
It didn’t feel fine. It felt off and weird and I wished I’d picked it out.
Right. Can I see you?
What are you really saying? Spit it out, Quarterback.
I wanted her so fucking bad . . .
I’m drunk and I want to have sex with you . . .
Not going to happen.
I won’t stick it in your butt. Promise.
Ha.
Will you send me a naked pic of you?
No.
Will you open your window and flash me?
No.
I was just kidding anyway.
Really?
Yes, really. I was hiding behind my humor, not wanting her to see that I’d been scared as shit these past few days. Part of me had been worried about football, but another side of me could only think about her.
Hello? Are you still there, she texted.
Just . . . can we start all over and try this thing again?
What thing?
I sighed and let my fingers fly. I want to laugh and go to class together, drink coffee with you, talk about how much better the Falcons are this year. I want to study with you. Just . . . I need you to tell me that I have another chance . . . because I’m not Bart. I will never hurt you like that.
A full minute went by.
I’d just spilled a ton of guts here . . . and she had nothing?
Fuck. Can I just hold you in my arms and watch you sleep?
I’ll unlock the door, she replied.
Sunny
HE SAUNTERED INTO MY BEDROOM wearing low-slung jeans and a tight black shirt, his wavy hair a mess as if he’d raked his hand through it a million times. Dark scruff covered his chiseled jawline, and his full lips tilted up in a half-smile. With an effortless, almost feline grace, he rested one bulky shoulder against the doorjamb and considered me with intense eyes.
Looking away was unthinkable.
“You look gorgeous,” he murmured.
At the growly sound in his tone, my stomach grew heavy, and my heart kicked up.
Time and time again, I was taken aback by his off-the-charts hotness. But it wasn’t his looks that tugged at my heart. Not really. It was him—his innate charm that made me want to strangle him one second and then hug him the next.
And I knew why. We’d never been strangers. Not even from the beginning.
I propped my head up with my arm as I lay on my side facing him. I patted “his side” of the bed. “I’ve been keeping it warm for you.”
He grinned,
his top teeth tugging on his bottom lip. Was there anything he did that wasn’t sexy as hell?
“I’m pretty hot already,” he said, eyes at half-mast.
“Mmm.”
I bit my lip as he pulled at the back of his shirt, pulling it from his neck and over his head. It landed in a pool of black on my floor. His jeans were next. He popped the snap and shoved them down and off his legs. I swallowed. Holy football miracles. I was glad I’d left the lamp on. His package strained against his tight black briefs, and my hand itched to cup him, tug down his underwear and wrap my mouth around his . . .
I sat up in the bed and scooted over to him.
His eyes went straight to my breasts. I wore a thin pink camisole, a pair of lace panties and nothing else. He took it all in, his throat moving convulsively, hands clenching at his sides.
“Just don’t move . . . okay?”
He nodded, his blue-green gaze glittering as I got up on my knees and pressed my palm to his chest—right over his heart.
The touch of his skin sent a jolt of heat through me. My eyes met his. “It’s beating so fast.”
“Yes,” he said huskily, his velvety voice caressing my skin, making me breathless.
“I’m glad you’re here.” I rested my head on his shoulder, inhaling his woodsy scent.
“Sunny . . .” His voice was strained, and I raised my head to look at him. His face was bewildered, as if he didn’t know how he’d come to be where he was. “I was being real on the phone. I didn’t come over here to fuck you. I don’t want it to be like that between us. This is something . . . I don’t know what’s going on . . . but I’ve missed you this week, and I don’t want to mess it up tonight by doing something neither of us is ready for.”
His words tore at my heart. I put my hand over his lips. “I know. I feel the same way. But I want to kiss you. Without anyone watching. No audience. Just me and you.”
He nodded and cradled my face, staring at me like he was terrified he was going to fuck it up. He gazed into my eyes until the very air buzzed. Soft and slow, he pressed his lips to mine, inhaling me as if I was the finest Belgian chocolate he’d ever tasted and he’d never get another piece. A nip of his teeth, his hand at my waist, and I was gone. Butterflies went crazy. Our kiss was pure, unadulterated magic, making me powerless in his arms. He was gut-twistingly perfect, and I wanted to drown in him. I didn’t need air. All I needed was Max Kent and his lips and tongue.
We sank down onto the bed together. His tongue traced mine, and my body yearned to give him everything.
We kissed. Over and over, learning each other, sighing, our breaths mingling.
In between kisses, we talked about our dreams. He wanted to live in New York someday and have a wife and a whole house full of kids. He told me about growing up alone without relatives or siblings. I told him how I’d run away at seventeen and had let my father believe I was dead until I was eighteen. I told him how I wanted a love I could call my own.
Our dreams weren’t that different.
And after we talked, our lips found each other again. Deep kisses. Hard kisses. Soft ones. We explored and tasted, yet our hands never went past our shoulders. This wasn’t about sex or getting off. It was about us being real—and as for me, well, fate was ripping apart my rule of not falling for him, tearing at the very fabric of my resolve. I was falling in love with the guy I’d tried my best to guard my heart against.
Sunny
ASH WALKED UP TO THE circulation desk where I sat with my A&P notes spread out across the counter. “Hey, Sunny.”
“Hi,” I replied as I pushed my notebook to the side and straightened up so I could lean over the counter and chat. He came in almost every night I was working and we usually ended up talking about everything. He was two years younger than me at nineteen, but because his IQ was off the charts, they’d let him start college at sixteen. His eyes were the warmest brown I’d ever seen with streaks of gray feathering out from the pupil. I felt relaxed around him, like I’d known him my whole life. I secretly hoped he and Isabella would become a couple.
He indicated the protein wrapper on my desk. “Nice dinner there. You sure it’s enough?” he commented.
“Didn’t have time for anything else.” My schedule had been nuts between classes and work.
He propped himself against the counter. Clad in skinny jeans, Vans, and a black waffle Henley, he caught the attention of several girls who walked by.
“I can run to the Student Center and grab you something if you want?”
“Nah, that’s okay, but thank you.” I smiled. “You’re one of the sweetest guys, which is kinda funny with the Mohawk and piercings . . .” I blushed remembering exactly what was pierced according to Isabella. “Not that I judge people by appearance, but you know what I mean. You kinda look like a—”
“Thug?”
I laughed.
“I’d do anything for you, Sunny. You introduced me to everyone you knew right off the bat. That was cool. You’re a nice person—like deep down I see you’re always looking out for others.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “You’d do anything for the people you care about.”
Bianca and Felix waltzed through the door. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses on her face—even though the sun had set—and as far as I could tell, she didn’t even glance over at me as they headed to the study carrels in the back.
Fine by me.
Ash’s eyes bounced from her to me. “She’s leaving you alone now?”
I nodded. “Won’t even look me in the face.”
In class, she avoided me at all costs I’d noticed too, her face remote and cold, waiting until Max and I had left the room before she even picked up her books.
“Good. If she starts anything, let me know.”
“You gonna fight her for me?” I ruffled his hair.
“You bet.”
He left to go upstairs and I got busy scanning the books in the drop box and doing the usual tasks before closing up. Pam, my manager, popped out of her office and reminded me I needed to head downstairs to the basement to take a cart of discarded books the library had removed from the shelves.
I cringed at having to go down to The Dungeon, as we called it.
I checked my phone.
Max had texted me. It had been over a week since our sleepover, and things were different between us. Softer. We hadn’t gone beyond kissing, but every brush of his fingers, every heated glance he sent my way, made me weak.
The Walking Dead premiers tonight, he’d written.
Why can’t you watch normal TV? I replied.
Like The Bachelor? Please. All those guys are bastards.
Keep your shirt on, I texted. You’re just jealous.
Whatever. Pick you up soon. Meet me outside the library?
K
Knowing I was going to see him gave me the motivation I needed to head down with the book cart. One of the first buildings on campus, the library’s employee elevator was ancient and hadn’t been renovated when the upstairs had been constructed. I got in the small space, pushed the button for the basement floor, and whistled on the way down. The motor made a grinding sound, like the wires holding the thing were rusted. The place was the perfect setting for Max’s zombie show.
The door slid open and I stepped out gingerly, my hand immediately going to the light switch on the right of the cold concrete wall. One of the florescent bulbs blinked annoyingly, like it usually did, and made a metallic clanking noise that sent chills straight up my spine. I glared at it. One of these days, I was going to come down here and this place was going to be pitch black. I made a note to tell Pam that maintenance really needed to check the wiring in this place.
I wheeled the cart past dusty discarded desks and study carrels to a hallway that led to a series of locked doors on either side. All were storage for various items. I unlocked and entered room 105, the biggest storage area and the room where everything went to die. I felt sad for every single book there
that would never be read again. During the day, when I didn’t work, I imagined it might be a pretty cool place as sunlight poured in from the ground-level windows near the ceiling. But at night, it was dark and musty, chocked full of metal shelving, rickety chairs, and an eerie padding sound which I took to be the vibrations from the heating and air system. Or maybe it was the footsteps of the patrons above me. Either way, the place gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I shoved a doorstopper in place with my foot and flipped the light switch. And just like last week, this one didn’t work at all. The maintenance person was slacking. Luckily I was prepared. I clicked on the mini LED flashlight I’d bought at Wal-Mart when I started this job and stuck it in my mouth as I used both hands to push the cart to the back of the room.
Using my flashlight, I walked down the dusty aisles, shelving the non-fiction books in the correct Dewey Decimal order. It was taking longer than I thought it would. The library closed in ten minutes. Getting worried she might forget I was here, I tugged out my phone and typed a quick text to Pam, then shoved the phone back in my pocket.
I’d just shelved a book about Egypt when I heard the creak of a distant door. My stomach jumped to my throat. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone down here but me.
A soft shuffling sound echoed from the main part of the basement, and I stilled.
An image of a giant rat flashed through my head.
Then a gnarly-looking spider with fangs. Ugh.
The door to my room slammed shut, and I screamed, the shrillness shattering the eerie quiet of the room. My hands clenched the cart, shoving it out of my way as I ran for the front of the room. The flashlight fell to the floor in my haste.
A laugh pierced the quiet after my scream, the sound muffled by the door between us.
I twisted the knob but it wouldn’t open. A rattling sound came each time I shook it, and with a sinking feeling, I suspected what the flashlight confirmed when I looked through the rectangular window on the metal door. A chair had been pushed up under the handle, locking me inside.
Fear rose in my stomach.
I took a step back.
“Who’s out there?” My voice was thin and reedy, bouncing off the concrete walls.
Nothing but silence greeted me.
I slapped my fists against the metal door. “Let me out!”
Fake Fiancée Page 13