Page 40 of Pump Fake

Mal shook her head, eyes narrowed to slits. “If it’s for me, tell him he can go to hell. I don’t want to talk to him. Ever.”

“With pleasure,” Ser purred. She was good like that, always had our backs. No one could cross her if she put her mind and sarcastic mouth to it.

I refused to turn around. Mal did the same. We went back to staring at the paused TV, not even bothering to restart the movie. It was also one of the funniest parts when Isla Fisher andZach Galifianakis—playing the parts of the Gaffneys inKeeping Up with the Joneses—were in the car shootout. It cracked me up every time, so of course, it was paused. None of us could miss out on that scene while we were diving deep into the feels.

“That’s a start,” Ser said.

I could picture her barring the entrance, but I didn’t turn, even when I heard the deep timbre of Ares’s voice as he asked to speak to me. Ser said something too low for me to hear—probably threatening him. I could see her doing that because she had before. If I hadn’t already said it, my sis was fucking amazing. I had to find a way to pay for her school. I didn’t want her to struggle as much as I had or have the terrifying student loans that I’d amassed the past two years.

“Brie, you have a groveler here,” Ser called, her voice getting closer. “Don’t disappoint. He has lots to atone for.”

I took a breath, wishing I could do something about my red-rimmed eyes, and turned to see him. He stood about three feet from the door, waiting for me to decide what to do, a bouquet of yellow roses clutched in his large hand. I couldn’t help but read into the color—friendship.

“Stop overanalyzing,” Mal whispered.

I shot her an annoyed glance before squeezing her hand. “Will you be okay?”

She chuckled. “Already made up your mind, huh? Can’t say I blame you.” When I worried my lip, her shield fell, and her resolve hardened. “I’m good, promise. Ser’s here.”

“You’re staying?” I swung my gaze to my sister.

“Yeah, Mom’ll still be awake. I might sleep over and just take an Uber to school. I thought ahead.” She gestured to her backpack in the corner by the front door. “I left a message for her so she can’t freak out on me.”

“Okay.”

I felt terrible and hesitated until they both pushed me to my feet then restarted the movie—without me. I closed the distancebetween me and Ares, accepting the flowers when he held them out. I refused to say anything, though.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk, Brielle. Those girls just hit a trigger for me, and I reacted before thinking it through.”

I nodded, but I refused to let it go completely. “You hurt me, not because we’re in a relationship, since we aren’t, but because I thought we were friends. At least to the point that you would know my character and not some bullshit picture Tiffany painted.” I turned on my heel and went to put the flowers in a vase, swiping at the stupid tears that threatened to spill before he could see them. I didn’t need that embarrassment. It was bad enough I looked awful, and I was sure he could tell I’d been crying.

We didn’t have a table, as the dorm suite was small, but the peninsula was perfect for the flowers. As I set them down, strong arms banded around my waist. I wanted to resist, but it felt too good to be held, and I melted against him as the truth of my feelings solidified—I’d missed him.

It was dangerous and not ideal for the arrangement we’d agreed upon, but it was undeniable, and I would have to keep those feelings deeply buried. I suspected the fake dating thing would crash and burn around my feet if I didn’t. But he’d made it clear, as had I, that we didn’t want more. The truth was, I was a big fat liar based on my feelings.

He leaned down and whispered, “Come back to my condo to talk. I shouldn’t have left things like I did last night.”

I shivered from his lips against the shell of my ear.

“Okay”—I was weak—“just let me get my stuff.” All he had to do was crook his finger, and my addicted ass would follow.

It didn’t take long before I found myself in Ares’s room because his roommates were in the kitchen. We needed privacy for our conversation—only the bed kept tempting me. But falling into it and his arms wouldn’t help. Resolve set, I turned to face him, bed at my back and arms crossed over my chest.

Ares invaded my space and brushed a few strands of hair from my forehead, tucking them behind my ear. I shivered in the wake of his touch but didn’t alter my defensive posture.

“Look. You know about the video and that it was done without my consent.”

I wanted to give him a sarcastic,Oh, do I?But the vulnerable glint in his topaz eyes made me pause.

“I’m probably repeating myself, but I want you to understand why I acted the way I did, not that it’s an excuse. The video caused a lot of trouble for me, and I’m worried it’ll prevent NFL scouts from looking at me. It paints me as someone with a potentially high PR risk. Aside from that, I’ve experienced a lot of girls who just want to use me.” He raised his hands to stop me from saying anything sarcastic. “My first year here, I didn’t care. I was using them too. But in the last few years, I’ve had trouble trusting girls with wanting me for me rather than the wealth and celebrity that would come from dating me.”

“So when my friends—and I use that word very loosely—made that comment, it raised red flags.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “I get it. I’ve got my own baggage and trust issues. But just because I’ve led a cushy life doesn’t mean it’s the end-all for me. I have serious hang-ups about dishonesty, thanks to my parents.”

That sexy, crooked grin curved Ares’s lips. “You mean we have something in common?”

“Not ideal. But your apology is accepted. And again, for the record, I’m not pushing for a relationship with you. The fake one, sure, but we’re both busy with school and everything else. A real one would be too much for me right now. I just want a friend.”Now who’s lying?

“With benefits?”

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