Page 114 of Play Fake
“You should tell him not to write songs about how good you taste. Only reminds me how much I need it, and how much you want it.”
“That’s fucked up,” I shake my head in admonishment, a smile erupting on my lips anyway.
“I have a jealous streak when it comes to you.” He shrugs.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. There’s something else I need to finish getting off my chest.”
“What?”
“I love you, Mackenzie. I know I haven’t always been your favorite—”
I put my fingers to his lips. He’s been confessing everything tonight, being honest even when it was hard, and it’s my turn to give him the same.
“I love you too. You’ve been my favorite for a long time. My favorite to argue with. My favorite to fantasize about. My favorite boyfriend, even when it was fake.”
He grins and pulls me close, kissing me before he looks at me again.
“So we’re agreed it’s real now?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun rubbing this in lover boy’s face.”
“I reiterate, you’re terrible!”
I laugh, kissing him and melting into his arms as he pulls me closer. I have no idea how I got so lucky, but I’m going to do whatever I can to keep him.
EPILOGUE
Waylon
One Year Later
We’re in the car, traveling down the mountain turn off a little faster than I probably should be this morning, but I’m nervous as hell. Mac is still only half awake in the passenger seat, dozing on and off because we took a late flight in last night and it’s insanely early in the morning, the sun still hasn’t broken the horizon yet, and the dim light of dawn stretches over the Colorado red dirt road in front of us.
We’re in town so I can be at the game tonight at Highland, to be part of the night’s ceremonies and then we’re having dinner with Ben and his date this evening. An activity Mac is way too excited for. Then we have to get on another flight, so I can be back in Seattle to play a game with the team on Monday night. But before all of that, I have something far more important to do. Something that has my heart nearly pounding out of my rib cage and me gripping the steering wheel to keep my hands from shaking.
When we get to the top of the ridge I put the rented Jeep into park and stare out at the view. I’m still remembering that first night we came out here when I knew somehow, I had to make her mine but had no idea how I could make it happen given how much she hated my guts. I glance over at her and smile. She’d been gorgeous and it had been awkward, the two of us giving each other shit like we always did.
So much has changed since then. A year has meant graduation, moving to Seattle, starting in the NFL, buying a condo, her starting her own rare book business out of little shop in Capitol Hill, and us trying to navigate all the craziness of post-college life without our friends and the safety net that came along with them.
But the one thing that had been constant was how much I loved her, every single fucking day it somehow manages to get better.
I glance over at her again, her sunglasses are on, and she’s curled up against the side of the door, hair up in a messy bun. She looks so peaceful, and I hate to disturb her sleep, but time is short today, and I need this moment more than any other. I reach over and run my fingers over her thigh gently until she stirs.
“Mac Truck, we’re here.” I say softly.
“Hmmm?” She slowly rises, pulling her sunglasses up to the top of her head and blinking.
“We’re here.” I repeat.
She rubs her eyes and blinks again taking in her surroundings.
“Is this?” She looks to me, a little befuddled but curious.
“Yeah.” I smile at her.
