Trick Play (Fake Boyfriend 2)

“Dude, so not a bet you want to make,” Miller says.

“He can take him.” Talon says. “Fifty bucks on Jackson.”

I look at the coaches, and the glimmer in their eyes lets me know they’re on board even though their scowls say they shouldn’t be.

“Gonna eat your words?” I ask Carter.

He lifts his chin in challenge. “You’re on.”

It takes less than a few minutes of suicides for me to realize what I’ve gotten myself into. Adrenaline is replaced with pain as my limbs ache, my chest heaves, and I’m ready to vomit, but there is no way I’m giving up. I will die before I let Carter beat me.

We’re on display for the entire team, plus the coaches, but that’s a good thing. I should only have to do this once to shut them all up about deserving my spot with the Warriors.

The fact I have to do this at all reiterates the reason why no one comes out in this sport. Maybe I shouldn’t have given in and should have squashed the need to prove myself, but if this gets the assholes off my back, then I’m willing to do it.

I push distractions aside and focus on the end goal, which I can’t quite remember what that is when my muscles burn with lactic acid. Still, I don’t give up.

I won’t. Ever.

It takes a hell of a lot longer than I expect and so many rounds of suicides I lose count of how many we’re up to when Carter finally trips over his feet and falls.

“Thank fuck,” I mutter and drop to my knees.

Water comes at me from somewhere, I don’t know where, but I don’t hesitate. I rip my helmet off and guzzle it down.

“Pissing contest over then?” Coach Caldwell asks.

“Over,” I say breathlessly and refuse to look at Carter.

“So, this is done?” Coach asks.

Carter’s voice comes out as a rasp, but his finality is clear. “Done.”

“You two are dismissed for the rest of the day. Make sure you warm down properly, or you’ll be useless to us tomorrow.” Coach turns to the rest of the team. “Break over! Get back to it.”

One challenge down, and I really hope there isn’t more to come.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Noah

The moment Matt told me he loved me, I knew I would never experience that type of high ever again, but this one is a close second.

“You’re not moving to Chicago,” Dad says from behind his massive desk.

“Uh, yeah, pretty sure I am.” I can’t stop smiling, and I think that pisses him off even more. Or maybe it’s my feet resting on the precious mahogany desk that has him pissed. Either way, I don’t care.

“You need to make public appearances with your mother and me, and your charity is an affiliate of this campaign. You can’t be across the country.”

I stand. “Oh, forgot to tell you. Spoke to the family’s finance guy. He’s willing to release a huge chunk of my trust so the charity is all mine. No longer affiliated, no longer your puppet, and no longer my father.”

Dad stands too and leans over his desk. “Noah, you can’t do this.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you tried to pay off yet another one of my boyfriends. Backfired this time, didn’t it? And the thing that gets me the most is you still don’t see anything wrong with what you did. You, of all people—someone who married someone outside his race and class against his father’s wishes—should know what you’re doing won’t work. I was willing to put the Nathaniel thing in a folder labeled it should never have happened, but then you go and do it again?”

“I thought Matt would’ve taken the deal. Just like I knew Nathaniel would. He didn’t love you, and I was doing what was best for you.”

I laugh. “Like that makes it any better? It’s always either the campaign or money. It has nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I want to believe you, I really do, but when Matt didn’t accept your deal, you threatened to take my charity away so he’d keep his mouth shut. We broke up, thanks to you. You’re done trying to dictate my life, Father. If you want me to keep playing the doting son for the press and make public appearances, you will leave me and Matt the fuck alone.”

He stares at me as if I’m backing him into a corner, but he still doesn’t realize he did this himself.

“I’m done here.” I turn to leave but he stops me.

“Leave the charity linked to the campaign. I don’t want to lose you from my life, Noah. And not because of the election. Because you’re my son. Despite what you believe, I did it for you. Not me.”

“Will you let Matt and I live whatever kind of life we want?” I’m probably pushing my luck, but I’m on a roll.