Page 20 of Endurance
“That you would come up with the idea to fake date me in order to help save our reputations? Yes, that’s incredibly hard to believe, Tanner.”
He looks offended. “Why is that?”
“Because you can’t stand me!” I exclaim. Then I lower my voice and lean toward him a bit. “Because you make it your mission to annoy the shit out of me any chance you get. Because for the next four weeks you’re going to have to keep your dick dry! What will your teammates say?”
His face falls. “Keep my dick dry? Why on earth would I do that?”
My mouth falls open. “Because you’re supposed to be in a relationship with me. That’s what’s expected of us. That’s what your lawyer told my father we were supposed to be doing.”
“You said it yourself, though. It’s a fake relationship. I don’t see why I have to be faithful.” He shrugs as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. But what we’re seeing as obvious are two very different things.
“It’s a fake relationship,” I punctuate. “A fakemonogamousrelationship.”
“But it’s not real.” He leans closer to me and I pull away. “So I don’t see why we can’t act on our urges.”
“You are not getting between my legs, Tanner Harris!” I hiss.
“I didn’t say I’d be fuckingyou, Ryan. It’d be a shame for my superior endurance to go to waste.”
His cavalier expression is cutting. His half-smile now looks horrifying as I realise what he’s implying. But instead of letting his words hurt, I turn my emotions into anger. I zero that anger in on him so hard that everything around his face blurs. I’m barely able to keep my scathing tone to a whisper.
“Look, Harris. This ismyreputation at stake, too. I’m not going to be your fucking politicalbeardwhile you continue whoring around London as if you’re on some bloody holiday and I’m a pathetic wife stuck at home.”
“You say beard like it’s a bad thing.” He rubs his chin, a dirty glint in his eyes. “Most women call this their thigh tickler.”
I baulk. “You are disgusting. I don’t care what most women call it. This is the situation we’re faced with, and I won’t let you jeopardise what we’re doing and humiliate me because you can’t keep your STD-infested cock in your trousers for a few short weeks.”
“Look,” he barks back at me and then looks around as he draws attention to us. He shifts to the edge of his seat, so close now that I can feel the heat between his legs and smell the alcohol on his breath. “I’m suspended from everything. Football practice, team meetings, matches. All of it. I can’t attend, not even to sit on the bench. So you are not about to bench me at the one thing I can actually take pleasure in during this entire mess.”
“This is a mess you created! Not me!” I insist.
He shakes his head and turns so he’s facing the counter again. Taking another large gulp of his drink, his jaw muscle ticks with annoyance. “I’m not even sure my team will believe this anyhow. You and me together? It doesn’t make sense. And it’s certainly not worth being completely miserable the entire time.”
The look of disdain he shoots me out of the corner of his eye sends me over the edge. Before I realise what I’m doing, I grab my glass of wine and chuck it in his face. “Surely they’ll believe that.”
I slam my glass down and shove myself off the stool, stomping through the crowd of people as fast as my stilettos will allow. I’m completely oblivious to the gawking eyes all around me. Tanner Harris will not get the upper hand on me again!
Fuck.
Him.
I burst through the doors of the restaurant and my vision blurs as flashes begin going off. There are at least three photographers with huge-lens cameras standing in the crowd of people. Everyone’s eyes are on me as they try to figure out why all the attention is facing my way.
I hear Tanner yelling my name from inside, but it doesn’t stop me. I make a quick left down the busy alley full of people, excusing myself as I bump into a group of men.
“Ryan, stop!” he shouts again.
Now, not only are there photographers furiously snapping photos, but people have their mobiles lifted and are recording the entire scene.
Tanner’s voice sounds closer, so I look back and see him swerving around the crowd. His eyes are wide and desperate as he takes in all the mobiles pointed at him.
I try to increase my speed but it’s no use. I’m in heels and he’s in boots. A firm grip wraps around my bicep, stopping me in my tracks.
“Bloody hell, Belle, would you just stop?”
He twirls me around to face him, a pleading look in his eyes. Glancing around with annoyance ticking in his jaw, he pulls me over to a brick doorframe in the alley. It’s not any farther away from the onlookers, but at least it’s out of the street lights.
“I’m sorry, all right. I didn’t mean what I said.” He moves his other hand to my free arm so he can force me to face him. The red wine has been wiped off of his face, but I can still see flecks of moisture clinging to his beard.
