Fake Fiancée

Everything? She’d tried to trap me into marrying her.

Someone bumped into me to get to a seat, and I looked around, realizing we’d been stopped too long and were impeding the traffic. Other students sidestepped around us to get to their seats.

Shit, shit, shit. I wasn’t handling this well. I should be the first one to walk away. I should—

Sunny wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned into me. She couldn’t make it any plainer that I was hers. I relaxed.

“I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Sunny, Max’s new . . .” she stumbled a bit, but managed to push out, “girlfriend.”

“Bianca,” she retorted, “his ex-girlfriend.” She turned back to me, her eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize you were dating someone.”

“I don’t have to keep you updated,” I said curtly.

She sniffed at Sunny dismissively, assessing her casual shirt and flip-flops. A tiny curl formed on her lips. “Not your usual, Max.” She flicked her hair, a glint of malice in her gaze. “I’ll be sure and tell Felix you said hello.”

My hands clenched, remembering how he’d picked my lock. “Better yet, tell him he’s a cocksucker who can’t throw a decent pass. Maybe he should tryout for cheerleading.”

She laughed low under her breath and waltzed off, making me fume. My emotional reaction was what she craved.

“Let’s go,” I said to Sunny.

She nodded and followed me as I headed toward two seats midway back from the podium. “Well, that was uncomfortable,” she said, sending me a side-eye. “Now maybe she’ll leave you alone for a bit. That is what you really want, right?”

My lips flattened. “I am done with her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am.”

Yet, I couldn’t deny there’s something about a girl who shits on you that always makes you wonder where you went wrong.

We got out our books just as Ryn, an offensive lineman, took the seat behind me. A huge Asian player from California, he was a destroyer on the field.

I introduced him to Sunny, and when he asked how we’d met, I froze. I hadn’t planned on concocting a story, but I fumbled around and ended up telling an elaborate story about how we met at the Phi Alpha toga party last spring. Famously known as one of the craziest parties of the year, it was the first thing that popped in my head, but I wasn’t even sure I’d been at that particular one.

“ . . . we ended up kissing in the bathroom at the party, and when I saw her again this summer, we started dating.”

Total BS.

“Where did you meet this summer?” he asked.

I blinked. Lying was harder than I thought.

Sunny jumped in. “At the Orion Coffee Shoppe on Third Street. They have the best lattes and chocolate croissants in Atlanta. He spilled his water on me—I mean, who drinks water in a coffee shop?—and the rest is history.” She smiled broadly and fluttered her eyes at me.

Two thoughts hit me at once. First, Sunny was a great actress. Second, I had never heard of this coffee place—but obviously she liked it. I made a mental note to find out where it was.

“Dude. That’s awesome,” Ryn said, sending me a knowing glance. “You deserve someone good after Bianca.”

Yeah. The entire team had seen how she and Felix affected my game.

I felt a malevolent gaze on me, like someone wanted to shove a stick of dynamite up my ass. I flicked my eyes one row over and found Bart’s eyes on me.

Well, well, well. First Bianca and now the douche-canoe.

I straightened in my chair. Hell, I was tempted to blow him a fucking kiss—but I had to keep my temper in check. Football demanded it.

He jerked out of his chair and made his way over to us.

Sunny

THE GUY WHO’D BROKEN MY heart was walking straight to where I sat. A handsome, All-American type, I’d met Bart at the library when he’d been on the hunt for a book about Jane Austen for a research paper. I fell for him immediately. He was a sexy athlete who read books and could talk about interesting authors. Duh.

He’d probably read up on Cliff Notes before our dates.

I inhaled a deep breath. Prepare thyself for drama, Sunny.

He halted in front of my desk. His usually perfectly styled auburn hair was in disarray as if he’d recently raked his hand through it. Long on top, he wore it in a dramatic swept back fashion that reminded me of Edward Cullen. It had been a little joke between us—Bart, my sparkly vampire.

Sparkly liar, I reminded myself.

I did my best to keep my face calm. But seeing him up close, taking in his chiseled jawline and the lean body that had been my first, made a knot rise in my throat. Sadness mingled with hurt swept over me. We’d never had closure. Not really. I’d simply walked out of the party and never spoken to him again. Since that day, he’d left me over fifty voicemails and had sent me hundreds of texts. I’d never listened or read a single one. Once you’ve seen betrayal with your own eyes, there’s nothing left to say. I had too much pride to listen to his excuses.

Last year, it had taken me three months before I was ready to go all the way with him, and the first night we’d had sex, he’d been gentle and kind. By six months into our relationship I was planning a future with him. I’d follow him to whatever team he got called up for.

Then he started pulling away . . .

“You kissed him,” Bart pointed at Max in disbelief, “at the toga party? When we were dating? That’s interesting since I recall you saying you had to study that night. You’d been cheating on me the entire time.”

I replayed Max’s story back in my head. Oh. Bart thought I’d kissed Max before he’d cheated on me. My teeth clamped together. How dare he?

I shrugged, feigning coolness.

He came in closer, and Max stood, his body straightening to his full height, towering over everyone, Bart included. “Watch it. I don’t like how close you’re standing to Sunny.”

Bart turned to glare at him, his ears red, a clear sign he was angry. He shoved his fingers into Max’s chest. “Mind your own damn business.”

Max’s face turned into a block of ice. Ominous and cold. I imagined that was how he looked at the defensive players whenever they lined up on the field. “I’m not letting you yell at my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bart sneered, throwing his hands up. “You don’t even know her. And for your information, I’d never hurt Sunny. Can’t say the same about you.” He looked pointedly at Max’s clenched fists. “You’re the one who likes to fight,” he said, obviously referring to the altercation between Max and Felix last year.

“That’s right. Now get back to your seat before I shove my fist in your face,” Max said softly, his eyes narrowed.

“I’m not afraid of you, asshole—”

“Everything okay back there?” Professor Whitt had walked in and was staring at them from behind wire spectacles. He frowned and adjusted them, his eyes darting from Max’s face to Bart’s.

“Yes, sir,” Max said, but never took his gaze off Bart.

Neither of them moved.

“Sit down,” I hissed, directing it at both of them. They were acting like petulant children fighting over a toy. And Max and I weren’t even a real couple! Insanity.

Thank goodness, Bart stalked back to his seat.

“I can fight my own battles with him,” I whispered to Max as he sat back down. “Don’t do that again.”