Page 39 of The Purest Fake

“Can I help out in any way?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’ve got it all under control.”

As I watch her move around the kitchen, effortlessly preparing our meal, I’m struck by how comfortable this feels, like I belong here in her home after a tough game.

“So,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Tell me what’s going through your head right now. About the game, I mean.”

I lean against the counter, running a hand through my hair. “Honestly? I’m replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity. Wondering what I could have done differently.”

She nods, understanding in her eyes. “That’s natural. But you can’t dwell on it too much. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“I know,” I sigh. “It’s just... we started so strong. That first quarter felt amazing. And then…”

“And then the other team adjusted,” she finishes for me.

I nod, impressed by her understanding of the game. “Exactly. They figured out our offensive scheme, and we couldn’t adapt quickly enough.”

Scarlett hands me a plate loaded with tacos. “Well, now you and the team know what to work on for next time. Every game is a learning experience, right?”

“You’re right,” I say, following her to the living room. We settle on the couch, our plates balanced on our laps. “Thanks for this, by the way. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about the game who isn’t on the team.”

She smiles, taking a bite of her taco. “Anytime. Venting is a necessary part of life. You think I’m good at listening, you should hear me vent.”

I chuckle, feeling some of the tension from the day start to ease. “Well, you’re right, you’re a great listener. And I’m here for you whenever you need to let loose and vent away.”

“Be careful what you ask for.” Scarlett laughs, and it lights up her whole face. “Poor Autumn is usually the recipient of my venting. Actually, it’s more like a ranting session.”

“Well, now I’m an option too. Since this is my first girlfriend ranting rodeo, is there anything I should know?”

Her expression turns thoughtful. “You’ve never had a girlfriend just go off and rant at you over whatever is pissing her off?”

Fuck. Why did I say that?

“Nope.”

Please don’t ask me why.

“How is that possible?” she asks.

Fuck me.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend,” I say, watching her reaction.

Her eyebrows briefly rise as she takes a moment to think over my confession. “How is that possible?”

I take a bite of my taco. “These are delicious, by the way.”

She smiles at the compliment. “Thanks. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. She always said food was the best comfort after a tough day.”

“Smart woman,” I reply, taking another bite.

We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the crunching of taco shells and the soft music that’s been playing since I arrived. It’s peaceful, and the last of my game-day tension melts away.

“So,” Scarlett says, setting her empty plate on the coffee table. “Tell me something that has nothing to do with football.”

“That might be a tall order. Football is my life.”

“I’m sure there’s more to you. What else are you passionate about?”

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