Page 31 of Play Fake
We snake our way through the crowds of people, weaving through the bodies in the kitchen and outside to the fresh air where there’s enough room to breathe.
My eyes drift past our little group, and I see the man I’ve been not-not looking for sitting on the corner of the hot tub. A gorgeous brunette sits in his lap, laughing wholeheartedly at whatever he’s saying while her hand drifts its way over his shoulder and arm. Their coziness sends a quick, frigid chill through my nerves. I remind myself this is exactly who Waylon is and why he’s the perfect candidate. It’s just possible I’ve come to this party a little too late for my own purposes this evening.
Olivia, Wren, Liam, and Easton are chatting about something and asking my opinion, but all my eyes do is dart back and forth between watching Waylon and the woman on his lap. The woman who currently has her lips plastered to his. I feel my stomach bottom out, a small crater forming there I refuse to acknowledge—a tiny green monster digging a pit.
“Kenz, let’s go play cards!” Wren’s eyes follow mine, and she gives me a little sympathetic glance.
“Okay. And I’m good. Really.” I thread my arm in hers as we walk inside.
“Uh, huh. You look good.Really.” She echoes.
* * *
When I finally find Waylon again inthe kitchen later, the beautiful brunette from outside is gone and the same blonde from the party at our house is circling him like a shark. Putting her hands all over him and shooting daggers at any of the other women who get too close to him. I watch for a while from the living room, wondering now if it’s worth bothering. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in her, a loose arm occasionally wrapped around her shoulder while he talks to the other guys. But I really don’t feel like getting my eyes or my hair torn out over Prescott.
So much for an easy one-night stand to get over Ezra. You’d think you could at least get that much out of your fake boyfriend, but apparently not when he’s this popular.
“Mac?” My favorite voice questions me, and I look over my shoulder to smile at him.
He glances at me and then follows my line of vision to the kitchen, giving me a sympathetic smile. My cheeks pink when I realize it looks like I’m jealously pining over the lineman from across the room. I want to explain it’s not what it looks like at all. But before I can say anything, Ben’s hand slips around my waist.
“Want to get a beer?” He jerks his head toward the kitchen and I nod. Because listen, if he asks, I’m doing it.
He pulls me tight to his side and as we make our way there; he rambles a bit about the game they played today and different sports statistics. I listen intently, pretending I understand what he’s talking about because while I enjoy watching a football game, all the jargon and stats are beyond me.
When we get to the kitchen, he deposits me on a bar stool and grabs us beers, popping the caps off and handing me one before he wraps his arm around my shoulders, his hand casually hanging over one side like this is a thing we do all the time. I’m wildly confused, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol I’ve had or if Ben is just being weird tonight, but I won’t argue with it.
“So, Waylon, you think we make it all the way to the championships?” Ben asks loudly, distracting Waylon’s attention from his little blonde bombshell.
He looks up at Ben, confusion marring his face for a second, before he registers the question. Then his eyes dart from me to Ben and back again, his eyes finally landing heavily on where our bodies meet.
“Hell yeah. If we play our cards right,” he answers at last, but he sounds distracted from the subject at hand.
“Agreed man. Just got to be more careful in the red zone, make sure we keep our hands on the ball. No more fumbles that close to a touchdown, right?”
“That’s more on you than me, so I won’t tell you how to do your job.”
“True. But if you just keep Liam protected, give him a chance to throw the long ball. I can take it from there.”
My eyes dart back and forth between the two of them, wondering what the hell they’re even talking about. I’m happy to just drink my beer and pretend I understand, though. I glance at the blonde again. Her pointed nails are stroking their way down Waylon’s chest and traveling farther south with each subsequent round. I suddenly wonder if she’s the reason he missed movie night at our place.
“You missed movie night. How come?” the words pop out my mouth before I can filter the thought.
Waylon’s eyes snap to mine, his brows furrowing for a minute.
“I uh, had a thing I had to go to.”
“Right, things.” I sip my beer, wishing he’d go back to discussing football or being publicly stroked or whatever he’d been doing before I lost control over my mouth.
“Why, did you miss me, Mac?” He smirks.
“Like I miss walking over broken shards of glass.” I give him a tight little grin.
“Is that your new kink now? See Ben, this one’s hard to keep up with. I don’t know if you can handle her.”
I bristle, ready to stand up and leave, but Ben’s thumb strokes across my clavicle in a reassuring gesture.
“The good ones always require the whole nine.” Ben smirks back at Waylon like they’ve got an inside joke between them.
