Page 48 of The Midseason Fakeout

With a sigh, I plop down on the bed. My mind conjures up memories of Mom and Dad, but I have to brush them away in order to focus on my upcoming practice. If they’re going to be at the game, I have to make sure my ass is playing.

I breathe in deep. My nostrils flare with a familiar scent. My sheets smell like Bailey’s perfume, and I can’t help but savor it. The way she high-tailed it out of here, that was hilarious.

Reaching for my phone, I send her a text.

That was only slightly awkward. Sorry, he surprised me. Hope you like your muffin. See you at practice?

She doesn’t write back right away, and it’s probably because she’s trekking back to her place on foot. I really didn’t plan this morning out well. I should’ve left enough time to drop her off. Checking my watch, I cringe. If I don’t leave right now, I’m going to be late.

Sorry you had to walk.

Actually, I’m kind of enjoying my first walk-of-shame experience. People keep laughing at me.

My hackles rise. If I was with her, they wouldn’t be laughing.

Before I can text her back, she says:

See you at practice.

I release the breath I’d been holding and then grab my bag. Throwing it over my shoulder, I lock the door behind me and make my way toward the field. My mind should be on practice, but instead, I keep thinking about Bailey. About the way she looked peering off the cliff. About the way she buoyed in the water while she glided next to me. The surprise in her voice when I made her orgasm—not just in the bathroom, but in the water, diving my fingers into her.

She was definitely not my friend’s little sister then.

My phone pings, and I take it out as I make my way across the quad. It’s a picture of Bailey. She’s giving me a frightened smile and a peace sign, the message reading:

I guess everyone knows what you’re up to when you still have sheet creases on your face.

I shake my head, zooming in on the picture. Sure enough, she has a bright-pink line streaking down her cheek. I can’t help but text back:

That’s how you know you’re killing it as a college student.

Does that mean you give me an A+?

Don’t get too greedy. Maybe just an A.

I’ll try harder, then.

Smiling, I take one last look before I put my phone away.

Football time.

14

BAILEY

Aidan takes my hand.I can’t believe I’m doing this. It was bad enough that his dad walked in on me nearly sleeping in Aidan’s bed five days ago, but now we’re pretending in front of both of his parents. In front of everyone, actually.

Today is the first couples fundraiser challenge, and we’re doing a bunch of athletic skills competitions.Weee.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I tell Aidan, pulling back on his hand before we leave my room. I unzip my hoodie, unable to keep the smile off my face. I’d bought us shirts a few days ago and had them ultra-rapid shipped to me. They got in last night just when I was hyperventilating that they wouldn’t arrive in time.

He frowns. “Why is there a cinnamon roll on your shirt?”

I run to my bed and pick up his shirt. “Because…”

I reveal his shirt like Vanna White on the final letter of the puzzle.

Power Couple. I throw spirals.

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