Page 12 of Winging it with My Ex
“She’s willing to help, but she wants something in return,” Vivi says.
Coach crosses his arms across his chest. “All right, what do you want?”
When Jett faces me, a smile is on his lips, but it almost feels fake.
“Well, it’s a little more complicated than just VIP seats.” I lock eyes with Jett. “I want the kids to bring up their GPAs, especially the ones participating in sports. They seem to think they don’t need to worry about grades, and I want to give them an incentive to work harder. I’m thinking a box for the championships.”
Coach starts to shake his head. “Now, hold on, those bring in a lot of money?—”
“Done,” Jett says, but there’s something in his voice that feels off. I just can’t put my finger on what it is. “I’ll pay for the seats.”
Coach claps his hands together. “Then I’m game.”
“And I want the players to show up to encourage the kids throughout the semester,” I add.
I know it’s not what Vivi and I agreed to, but it just hit me that maybe it’d keep them motivated.
“I’ll talk to the guys. I think I can get a few of them to agree to that.”
“Great.” I walk to Jett and stop about a foot from him. “Then here are my rules. No kissing. No hugging. No anything. We’re fake dating. Got it?”
His shoulders slump. “And no one will believe we’re dating if all of that is off the table.”
Perhaps I didn’t think this through as well as I should have because he has a point. I wish I’d thought about all the touching and feeling and lips before I agreed to this. “Fine, but we keep it to a bare minimum and only when we have to. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” He hangs his head for a second, and when he lifts his eyes to mine again, I see a depth of sorrow I’ve never seen in them. “I’ll pick you up on Friday for our first official date. Okay?”
Why do I want to comfort him so badly? I’m the one who was hurt in all of this. He got to live his dream. Pro hockey. Glitz, glory, and girls. I saw the pictures, at least for the first six months. After that, I packed my life with Jett away and vowed to actively avoid anything to do with him or hockey.
“Yeah.” I stride to the conference door. “I’ll see you on Friday.” I look at Vivi. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“See ya!” Vivi replies.
I slip out into the hall and make a beeline for the exit.
I’ve just signed up to fake date Jett Monroe.
There are two ways this is going to end. Horribly or terribly. There’s not a chance it ends well, that’s for sure.
eight
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jett
It’spart of the plan. It’s part of the plan. It’s part of the plan.
The phrase repeats until I reach Hadley’s house with the little white picket fence. It looks like a house she’d live in. Quaint, cute, and bright.
It’s got sun-yellow siding with the white shutters and flower boxes hanging off the windows. Flowers line the walkway, and a little tree that looks like it was planted just a few years ago has ropes holding it in place.
It’s picturesque.
And if I hadn’t been so stupid, this could have beenourhouse,our dreams. Those would be my pansies lining the path. My white shutters and picket fence. I’d likely have kids—be a dad.
I feel gutted.
I can’t do this. I don’t care about the plan. I’m not good enough to ever have her back.
