Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

Damon:

He’s not good enough.

Maddox:

He’s hot and rich and doesn’t want anything serious. Isn’t that what you wanted for me? To “experiment”??? Why isn’t that good enough?

Damon:

He’s an asshole. And a manwhore.

This is not exactly true. He can be an asshole, and he has acted like a manwhore in the past, but he’s actually a bit of a loner.

Maddox:

You and Stacy call me a manwhore.

Damon:

Maddy … Just please tell me you didn’t.

Maddox:

I dunno. I’m liking this. Although, it’d be better if I could see you squirm in person instead.

Damon:

Asshole.

Maddox:

: ) I didn’t hook up with him.

Damon:

Not many people turn Noah down.

Maddox:

I got that. Thanks for introducing me to everyone. Skylar’s already Facebook friended me, so I guess I didn’t make too much of an ass out of myself.

Damon:

In front of them? It’s not possible.

I hesitate before sending another message through.

Damon:

What are the chances of you getting out of work on Tuesday afternoon? I have to go to OU to scout a baseball player. I figure you could show me around campus.

It’s a horrible excuse. I visited Stacy a few times when she went there, so I know my way around, but apparently, I can’t help myself anymore. Wonderful.

There’s too long a gap in between messages, and by the time my phone vibrates, I’ve chewed my thumbnail down as far as I physically can.

Maddox:

Sure.

***

A nervous ball sits in my stomach as I wait for Maddox at the east entrance to his alma mater.

“Hey,” Maddox says behind me.

I turn and try to smile, but by the concerned expression on his face, I’m clearly not pulling it off.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah … fine. Uh, you?”

“I’m good.” His eyes travel over me. “Where’s your suit?”

I stare down at my jeans and T-shirt. “I didn’t want to stand out. If people find out you’re with an agency, they’ll pounce and start rambling about their son who’s the best at everything. I should know—my parents did it back when I was playing. They’d randomly go up to people wearing suits asking who they worked for.”

Maddox laughs. “Baseball field is through here.”

Numerous people stop and say hello to him, and he greets them all as if they’re long-lost friends. His easygoing nature is only one of the things I admire about Maddox, but it also means it takes twice as long to get to the field than it should.

“So, are we being spies right now?” he asks as we finally step through the stadium gates.

“Spies?”

“Yeah. Does your subject know you’re scouting him, or are we supposed to be stealthy?”

“Is it possible for you to be stealthy? Everyone seems to know you.”

“I was loved at this school. No, I was a god.”

I snort. “Okay then.”

“Fine. Most of the people who stopped us were in my class when I was a TA last year. They only love me because I graded their papers generously.”

“You were a TA?”

“You say that as if you’re surprised I was smart enough.”

“Not at all. I just figured you were like Stacy—skating by on average grades because you were too hungover to put in the effort.”

“I was here on a partial academic scholarship. I needed to keep a three-point-five GPA to qualify for it. I partied hard while I was here, but I was better at studying and working hungover than Stacy was. Poor city girl couldn’t keep up with me. I’d been drinking moonshine out the back of Will’s family’s farm since I was fourteen.”

“You really are a country boy, aren’t you?”

Maddox shrugs and looks away. “Not really. I just grew up there. So, who are we scouting?” He leads us to a set of bleachers to the right of home plate. “And is here okay?”

The stands aren’t overflowing with people, but there’s a decent crowd.

I nod toward two free seats farther along. I should be able to check out this guy’s talent from there.

“It’s the pitcher,” I say to Maddox. “Some kid named Logan.”

Maddox leans back in his seat. “So, this is your homeland, huh? Your mothership.”

“Yup.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re being all … first-day Damon-like.”

“First-day Damon-like?” I ask.

“Standoffish and grunty. Makes me think I’ve done something wrong or you’re in a shitty mood, like the first day I met you. Do you need to get drunk? Because that worked last time. They might sell beer at the concession stand.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m fine.”

“Why …” he starts.

“Why what?”

“Why did you ask me here?”

Fuck, why did I ask him here? Showing me around campus was just an excuse. I made him take time off work to be here, and all I’m doing is giving him one-word answers.

I shrug. “To hang out.”

“Okay.” Maddox gives up and turns his attention to the game.

It’s already the third inning, but I made sure to come late. I want to see what this guy can do when he’s tired.