Page 52 of Play Fake
I take the carefully wrapped package from her and the way she’s done it; it looks professional.
“There’s no way my mom thinks I wrapped this.” I smile at her handiwork.
She shrugs and gives me a little smile. “You can say the girl you’re dating did it then.”
And fuck if I don’t wish shewasdating me. Especially right now because in that dress, I’d haul her ass to bed and bury myself in her just as soon as she’d let me.
“Right,” I nod. “Be right back.”
I hurry down the hall to grab one of my clean jerseys from the back of the closet. I’ve told myself it’ll just help sell our little relationship to my mom and brother, but in reality, a sick part of me likes the idea of branding her as mine. Especially after having to watch her yesterday with her prick of an ex.
I have to let her make up her own mind, but it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy our little roleplaying game while it's happening.
When I get back to her in the hallway, though, her mood has shifted, and she levels me with a look that’s downright glacial. I pull up short, raising my hands because I have no idea what could have happened in the last 30 seconds to change her mood this much.
She glares at me first and then her eyes shift to the couch in the living room, where Lauren is sprawled out asleep in nothing but underwear and a tank top with no bra. I have no idea how she’s gotten there, but I can guess it’s Easton’s doing, and he’s just temporarily fucked off to the bathroom for a second. Just long enough to make it look terrible, especially since I’m half dressed.
“Going to be hard for your mom to believe I’m your girlfriend if you’ve got half-naked women lying around your place,” she says the words like I’m the biggest idiot she’s ever met.
Well, she’s not fucking wrong there. Easton and I would have words about the common areas in the morning. No way do I want my mom walking in on this shit if we stop by while she’s here. I’m sure she doesn’t imagine I’m a saint or anything. Mac had a fair point about that, but I’d rather not give her the proof. Especially not when I’m trying to convince her I’m settling down, and I’ve got my life together, so she doesn’t have to worry.
“Yeah, that one does not belong to me.”
“I’m not stupid, Waylon. It’s the same girl from the other night. One of yourfriends,” and as she says the last word, jealousy flashes across her face. Before I have time to correct her, she’s out the door and almost to the stairs before I can catch her wrist in my hand.
“You realize other football players live here, and Lauren knows them too, right?”
Her eyes flash a warning and an accusation all in one, and it’s just enough to get me heated. I step closer to her, so close I can feel her warm breath on my chest as her own heaves in frustration. She smells like cranberries and a hint of vodka, and the apple scented perfume she always has on. My dick stirs again, and I have to remind myself to focus. I pin her between myself and the wall with a look, not releasing her wrist because I’m afraid she’ll bolt.
“What is your deal? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” She laughs like I’ve said something profoundly stupid. “Why would I be jealous?”
“Right? I’m wondering the same thing since I was just helping you get your ex back when you were on a date with him yesterday.” I say incredulously.
“We weren’t on a date.”
“You told me you were going on a date last night, sat with him all evening, and then you kissed him before you left. What am I missing?”
“He kissed me.”
I laugh bitterly, “You notice you seem to get accidentally kissed by a lot of guys lately?”
Her quick intake of breath tells me I’ve hit a nerve, and the steeled look I get confirms it.
“Have you noticed you run really hot and cold?” her eyes rake over me.
“Me?” I choke out.
“Yes, you.” She pokes my chest with her free hand. “One minute you’re calling me fat, the next you’re creeping upstairs to pester me. Then you’re volunteering to be my fake boyfriend, then you’re in a hot tub withherplastered to your dick. Then you’re telling me how hot I am and how you imagine… things… with me, and then you’re fucking hot tub girl the night before I’m supposed to go pretend we’re a couple in front of your sweet, unsuspecting mother? Why don’t you just have hot tub girl pretend to be your girlfriend? Why are you fucking with my head?”
My head is fucking swimming because half the things she’s said I have no idea what she’s talking about, and half the accusations make me want to fucking roar about what a fucking hypocrite she is. I take a deep breath, though, holding it through several things I want to say, that I know will be fucking disastrous.
“If we’re going to talk about running hot and cold, am I allowed to bring up the fact you only seem to want to fuck me when you’ve been drinking? Cause I promise you, that fucks with someone’s head.”
“Because.” She stares up at the sky for a second before she closes her eyes. “It’s liquid fucking courage. Have you looked in a mirror lately? Do you see the half-naked women you have around you all the time? You know what they think of me—what they’ve said to me. How am I supposed to… fuck. This is humiliating. Can I please just go?”
She turns her head away from me and tugs at her wrist, but I don’t release her. Little sparks of hope are bouncing around in my chest, desperately rattling it to try and get out. I lean in, running the backs of my fingers down her cheek.
