His jaw firms and his lips thin into a straight, grim line. “My mom is dead.”
Oh. “I’m sorry.” I feel like a jerk.
“You didn’t know. She died when I was two.” He shrugs. “I know my dad will love you.”
The way he says it kind of freaks me out. Like his dad is probably a creeper and that’s why he’ll love me.
“It’s just your dad and you then?”
“No. There’s Adele.” His lips virtually disappear when he says that name. And he has really nice full lips, so I’m wondering where exactly they went. “She’s my stepmom.”
“So you want to freak out your stepmom.”
“I could give two shits what she thinks.”
The tension radiates off him in visible waves. There’s something going on between him and his stepmom that’s definitely not good.
Ignoring his remark about the wicked witch named Adele, I forge on. “Have any brothers or sisters?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Oh.” His lack of communication skills could be a real problem since I’m wholly dependent on this guy for the next freaking week. “I have a brother.”
“How old?”
“Thirteen.” I sigh. “Owen’s in the eighth grade. He gets in trouble a lot.”
“It’s a tough age. Junior high sucks.”
“Did you get in trouble a lot when you were thirteen?” I couldn’t imagine it being so.
He laughs, reaffirming my suspicions in a heartbeat. “I wasn’t allowed.”
“What do you mean?” I frown. His answer makes no sense.
“My dad would kick my ass if I stepped out of line.” He shrugs again. He does that a lot, but I like it because it reminds me that he has those delicious broad shoulders. If I’m lucky enough, I’ll get to touch them during our fake relationship over the next seven days. I’ll lean my head on his shoulder too. Press my cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt and secretly breathe in his scent. He smells good, but I want to get up close and really inhale him.
Sappiness is ready to overtake me and for once in my cynical, no room for fairy tales life, I’m ready to let it happen. After all, I need to be the best actress on the planet, right?
“Isn’t that what all dads say they’re going to do when their kids step out of line?” I ask.
“Yeah, but mine meant it. Besides, it was easier to do what I’m supposed to and not get distracted. I lose myself in the mindless stuff, you know?”
“And what are you supposed to do?” I add air quotes like those annoying sorority girls who come into La Salle’s. I really hate those girls and how they flip their hair and laugh too loud and say the stupidest things. They literally bat their fake eyelashes at the guys and everything. It’s pathetic, what attention whores they are.
Jeez, I sound bitter even in my own head.
“Go to class, study and get good grades. Go to football practice, stay in shape, play to the best of my ability and hope like crazy I’m impressing the scouts out there who are watching me.” He rattles everything off like some sort of list, his voice a dull monotone.
“And what are the distractions you need to avoid?”
“Partying, drinking, girls.” He slides me another look, his features softer, the earlier anger gone. “I don’t like losing control.”
“Me either,” I whisper.
He smiles at me and I feel it like a dagger to my softening heart. “Sounds like we might make a good pair after all.”
Drew
The second the words fall out of my mouth, I want to snatch them back. We are definitely not a good pair. She’s the worst sort of girl for me and I know it. It’s why I’m bringing her home. So my dad will think I’ve scored a hot little football groupie who gives it up to me whenever I want and Adele will finally leave me alone.
Fable really is a team groupie. She’s supposedly banged half the guys this season alone, though I don’t know how accurate the rumors are. This is how I first discovered her existence. A bunch of guys from the team were talking about her when we were at La Salle’s one night right after the semester started. After she took our table’s order, they compared notes and bragged how great in bed she is. One of them even pinched her ass when she walked by, earning a dirty look from her that made them all laugh.
Her reputation—and her feisty reaction—was my first clue she might make the perfect fake girlfriend. I don’t fool around with any of those girls who hang around the locker room after practice or after a game. I don’t really fool around with anyone. It’s easier that way. You give girls a little bit of yourself and they always want more, more, more. Things I can’t give them. I shut myself off to make my life bearable. I’m like a damn machine sometimes.