Page 13 of The Midseason Fakeout

Grabbing my jacket, I spin and blow him a kiss. “Thanks, big bro.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The air has a bit of a chill, but not too bad. I end up walking with my jacket in my hands. The sounds of freedom are everywhere. Cars driving by. College kids talking in groups, laughing, screaming. The wind rustles through the trees and teases the hairs poking out of my messy bun, and it’s like the perfect symphony of autonomy.

I studied the map of campus earlier, so I head toward the football area, which runs along a trail. Whistles pierce the air, and as I get even closer, I can hear pads colliding. The sound is familiar enough. Darrin played football in high school. He was good, and I loved going to his games when I wasn’t scheduled to do my own things, but sitting next to my parents in the stands is different than sitting with friends and enjoying the atmosphere. Even out in public, it felt like I was in a cage.

My feet pick up the pace all on their own, and I round the bend and find a fence surrounding a practice field. I hike up the hill and search for Aidan. It doesn’t take me long to pick him out. He’s devastatingly handsome, his face in concentration mode as he drops back to throw the ball. A yellow pinny covers his practice jersey—without any pads, so his full, muscular figure is in view.

He’s downright gorgeous.

On the other side of the fence, I notice a small section of bleachers and spot a few girls sitting there. Those must be the ones Aidan was talking about—the jersey chasers. I head that way, dragging my fingers along the chain-link. All the while, I keep my stare on Aidan and try not to think about the electrifying kiss we shared last night.

Instead, I focus on our agreement. A fake relationship that just so happens to come at the best time for both of us. I feel bad that he’s had a rough time. Darrin and I always kept up with his games. We watched them on TV, and I would get jealous when Darrin would text him afterward, congratulating him on his win. I guess his getting benched goes to show that even the good ones can flounder a little. I bet it’s hard being almost famous.

Finally, I get to the metal bleachers and climb up them. The girls peer over at me, and I smile. The girl from last night catches my eye. She’s sandwiched between two others, and she grabs their arms when she sees me and immediately starts whispering.

Guess I haven’t found my tribe yet.

I take a seat away from them and watch Aidan throw a few more passes, then jog to the sidelines. He reaches for a water and gulps it down. Despite the chill in the air, he’s sweating profusely.

The girls on the other side of the bleachers call his name and wave. He ignores them, turning his back. I have to hide a smile, but I don’t dare glance over to see their faces at the absolute rebuff he just gave them.

I want him to know I’m here, but I’m not about to call out like they did.

A few minutes later, he turns back around to set his water bottle down. Straightening in my seat, I wait to see if he looks up. He does, slowly, almost like he knew I was here.

I give him a small wave, and his shoulders immediately relax. Then, in complete Aidan form, his lips split into a cocky grin. He points at me, then makes a heart with his hands.

I chuckle because I’ve seen him and Darrin do that when they’re playing a game and one of them completely wastes the other. It’s like a sarcasticI love you, bro.

Someone calls his name, so I don’t get a chance to respond before he turns his attention back to football, jogging over to a middle-aged man with a clipboard. I recognize him from TV, too. Coach Thompson. He’s a big deal in the college football scene, and for that matter, so is Warner University. ESPN always shows their games, and the commentators love talking about Aidan.

I can’t hear what the coach is saying, but the group of girls has started talking louder.

“I don’t know,” one of them says. “She doesn’t look like his type.”

“Not at all,” answers another, and I can’t help but think they want me to hear.

“Do you think he was with her when he was, you know…”

“In your bed?” the girl calls out loudly.

My stomach churns. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Aidan might have a girlfriend when I told the lie. Though that’s obviously not what any of these girls are. Still, at least one of them has more experience with him than I do.

“Actually, it was his bed.”

Noted. Never getting in that bed. That’s disgusting.

Well, what am I here for? Definitely not to listen to this. I’m supposed to be his girlfriend, and if they think they’re going to stake their claim… That’s not going to happen.

I stand and walk toward them. They were all looking at me anyway, so they watch as I casually glide their way. “Hey, ladies,” I say with a smile I don’t feel. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Just so everyone is clear, Aidan and I are together. No, we weren’t together if or when one of you was actually with him. His past is his past, but I do want to warn you that he doesn’t cheat, so you should set your sights on another player because that boy is off the market.”

“How did you do it?” the one with the robe asks. She looks me up and down like she doesn’t see much.

I push my insecurities aside and wink at her. “Now that’s a secret.” I give them a small wave while I’m still keeping it together. “It was nice talking to you.”

Turning, I go straight back to where I was sitting, but find Aidan again in my peripheral. He happens to be staring at me, and he tilts his head like he’s wondering if I’m okay. I give him a sly thumbs up before Coach Thompson blows his whistle and gathers up the players.

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