Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

“Farrrrk,” I say.

“The closer couldn’t turn it around, and we lost the game. There was pain in my shoulder, and I ignored it. The doctors say I probably had a small tear, and I kept playing on it and did more damage. Career suicide.”

“Athletes are taught to play through the pain, though.”

“Exactly. I told myself to suck it up, because I was worried I’d be benched if they found out. And I often wonder if it would’ve been different if I was closeted. If I was the number one draft pick as a straight guy, I doubt the media would’ve jumped on it so hard.”

“Let’s drink more,” I say. “Because that’s depressing.”

“Welcome to my life.”

After we get new drinks, the mood is somber when we get back to the table. Damon’s dream was shattered in mere seconds, but he went and moved on and had made a life becoming a sports agent. Something he loves … probably. It’s a logical step. Ballplayer turned sports agent. My only goal was to get out of this town, and I did that. Now what?

“You know,” Damon says and leans forward. “Your ex isn’t the ball-busting girl I thought she was going to be. I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“Your aversion to all this and your ex-girlfriend. I’m missing part of the story.”

I hate that this guy who I’ve known for all of twenty-four hours can read me. He stares right into me, leaving me vulnerable but not entirely uncomfortable. Confusion clouds my head again for the sixtieth time in the last twenty-four hours.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Damon asks.

“No one—not even Stacy—has asked me why I am the way I am.”

“So, why are you?”

“You ask me for my deepest and darkest secrets so casually as if it’s not a big deal.”

Damon runs his hand over his jaw, as if he’s trying not to smile. “Unless you’ve killed a guy, been abused, or belong to ISIS, your deepest and darkest secrets can’t be too scary.”

I blow out a loud breath. I don’t talk about this stuff—to anyone. “This town was my home for eighteen years, but I don’t belong here, and I never have. Can’t tell you why because I couldn’t work it out. I lived here, I had fun here, I was a normal kid, but the idea of living here my entire life made me break out in hives. And with Chastity …”

“You would’ve been trapped here.”

“Exactly. My parents are great, but I’ve never been close to them. Or my sister. I look nothing like them, act nothing like them. My whole life has been one big game of one of these things is not like the other.”

“Maybe you were switched at birth,” Damon jokes.

“You’d be surprised how many times I asked myself that growing up, but it’s not just them. Or here, for that matter. I’ve never belonged anywhere. Even in New York. I almost transferred junior year because I was bored out of my brain. Now I’ve graduated and been in my job for a year, it’s like I’m on that never-ending conveyer belt I left here to get away from. I wanted to travel and explore. I’ve done none of that.”

I could keep talking. I could ramble all I want about seeing the world and not being tied down, living a life trying new things, doing new people, but I don’t say those things aloud. I can’t explain why being stuck in the one spot for the rest of my life scares the shit out of me.

“What keeps you in New York?” Damon asks.

That’s easy to answer. “Your sister.”

He screws up his face as if he’s tasting something sour.

“Nah, man, not like that. I had a thing for Stacy freshman year, but after I gave up trying to get her into bed, we became actual friends. I’m glad she stood her ground, because if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have her now. Does that make any sense or is the scotch already affecting my speech?”

Damon’s face remains stoic. “It makes sense.”

“When I told her I wanted to transfer out of OU, she asked me to stay, so I did.”

“Because you couldn’t man up and do what you wanted? I’m starting to sense a theme. Chastity wouldn’t let you go to New York; Stacy won’t let you leave.”

“It’s not like that with Stacy. When she asked me to stay, I realized she’s the closest thing to home I’ve ever had.”

Damon takes a swig of his drink. “Okay, I’m going to ask this once, and whatever you say, I’ll accept as the truth. Are you sure you don’t still have a thing for my sister?”

I burst out laughing. “No way. And if I did, Jared’s done her, so she’s off limits. I’m not into crossing swords either. She’s honestly more of a sister to me than Jacie is.”