Fake Fiancée

He thought about that for a moment. “I hate losing—at anything.” A light dawned in his eyes. “I have an idea. Let’s walk in that class like we’re together and blow their fucking minds.”

I started, even more so when he reached across and grabbed my hand.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t disentangle our hands, though.

He edged closer to me, his face earnest. “Let’s show them we’ve moved on—to bigger and better things. What do you say about being my pretend girlfriend for class today?”

What?

Was he nuts?

I shook my head to clear the fuzzies. “Slow down a minute. Are you—gay?” How horrible.

He sent me a get real look. “No. I’m just feeling unsure this morning—not an emotion I’m used to. I’d like to walk in there and show her that I’ve met someone special. Start the semester off with a bang.”

“Are you serious?”

A wicked grin curled his lips. “Why not? Let’s screw with them.”

My thoughts raced, grasping at a reason to say no. I couldn’t find one.

He had offered to fix my car if the groupie didn’t pan out. He’d even stopped and gotten me coffee. Plus, it would be nice to waltz past Bart with the most popular guy on campus next to me.

Normally, I’m the least impulsive person ever, but what could possibly go wrong if I pretended to be his girlfriend?

Nerves and excitement flew over me. “Let’s do it.”

Max

WE STOOD WAITING FOR THE elevator, Sunny a good two feet away. Her expression was composed, yet I sensed nervousness. She’d been quiet since we’d agreed to do this, and I hoped she wasn’t regretting it. The idea of a fake girlfriend was growing, taking root in my head.

“I don’t have a disease,” I teased, poking at her arm, trying to get her to relax. At this point, no one was going to buy it.

She considered me with a serious expression. “Whatever. I’ve heard about your reputation with the ladies. Love ‘em and leave ‘em seems to be your motto.”

“Meh. That was freshman year when I was stupid.” I grinned. “Maybe sophomore year too—but I’m clean as a whistle. Just had a complete physical.”

Her gaze shot to the crotch of my jeans and then to the wall. She swallowed. “Nice to know. I’ll file that away under my Things to Know About Max Kent folder—which I’ll never use.”

I grinned. “And no one’s going to believe you’re into me unless we play it up, which means I’m going to have to kiss you before we walk into class,” I said.

“Kiss?” she squeaked, her eyes big as she faced me.

Yeah. That had gotten her attention.

I nodded. “The elevator doors are going to open in front of a hallway full of students. Most people haven’t talked to me or seen me all summer besides my teammates and, trust me, all eyes will be on us. We want them to think we’re in love. We want them to think that I can barely keep from screwing you right here.”

She gaped at me. “You’re insane. I didn’t agree to this just so you could make out with me.”

I splayed my hands out. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’ll kiss you so good, you won’t be able to kiss another guy for an entire year without thinking about me.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Pffft. Do you even know how cocky you are?”

“Won’t deny it. I am Max Kent.”

She blew out a loud breath like this was the last place she wanted to be. Was it just me that bugged her? I was intense and hard to handle—mostly on the field, though.

Don’t be an idiot, Max.

Everything isn’t about you. Put yourself in her shoes. Her car’s just been demolished, she’s braced to see her ex, and a guy she doesn’t know just asked her to put on a show.

“What’s it gonna be?” I asked, tapping my fingers against my thigh, oddly anxious.

“Fine, you can kiss me, but no boob squeezing or crazy stuff.”

I nodded. Fine with me. I could keep it light. Public displays weren’t my thing anyway since I kept my life as private as I could.

But I couldn’t stop myself from teasing her. “Most girls would kill for that, ya know,” I said with a grin.

“I’m not most girls.”

The elevator arrived and we stepped on, thankfully alone. Brushing my hands across her shoulder, I eased her backpack off and set it next to mine on the floor.

“You ready?” I asked, inching into her personal space.

Her chest rose and she nodded.

She was a stranger to me, yet I had no qualms as I touched her neck, tracing the lines of her throat and the shell of her ear. She wasn’t that pumped up pretty like some girls with their makeup and crazy eyebrows; no, she was lovely, with creamy skin and hair the color of straw and cotton mixed together. I dug it.

And that orchestrated kiss idea? A gimmick—partly. I just wanted to kiss her.

She looked at me with big gray eyes and my breath hitched. Gray didn’t do them justice; they were a soft smoky color with pale blue lines that feathered around her pupils like lightning. And her lips? I’d noticed them first thing. They were plump and symmetrical, the sweet indentation on the top calling my fucking name.

I swallowed. “You ready?”

“You already asked me that,” she said a bit breathless.

Oh. Yeah.

Without moving away from her, I pressed the button for the sixth floor.