Fake Fiancée

I stiffened, my fists tightening, adrenaline still high from the game. “What do you want?”

He sucked down a drink and glared at me. “Sunny.” And then he walked away.

I swallowed, itching to chase after him and hash it out—but why? She wasn’t mine. And I couldn’t get into any fights. It would ruin everything. I shook myself off, willing myself to cool down and let go of the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

My eyes landed on long blond hair. Finally.

She sat with Ryn and the dark-haired girl from the stadium at a patio table near the fence. Thank fuck. I was beginning to think the entire party was payback and she wasn’t even going to show.

I made my way over to them, weaving in and out of the crowd.

I halted as she tossed back amber liquid from a shot glass. Tequila?

Great.

I barreled and elbowed my way through the thick crowd, done being nice to everyone.

“Hey. I found you. You having a good time?” My hand caressed her bare shoulder, but when she stiffened, I let it fall.

She held another shot up in my general direction and tossed it back. Her eyes said, Bite me.

“Do you mind if I sit by my fiancée?” I said to Ryn, my face tight.

Ryn held his hands up like sorry to be in your way and stood. “Got no clue what’s going on. I just sat down to help pour the drinks.” He slapped me on the back and leaned down to whisper. “She’s had quite a few, friend. Just so you know.”

I took his seat, my slack-clad leg brushing her bare one, and she flinched.

I sighed. “Who’s your friend?” I indicated the girl next to her.

Sunny shrugged. “She doesn’t like you very much right now.”

“Go fuck yourself,” the girl said sweetly, then came over to my seat and gave me a quick hug, the type you’d give your best friend’s fiancé. “That’s for them,” she said, her gaze encompassing the entire back yard and several who’d been sending us curious glances. Bianca’s group was one of those. And Bart who lingered by the fence. Watching.

The dark-haired girl waved at them all and then flipped them off.

Sunny stood up, swaying on her feet until I righted her with my arm.

“We should talk,” I said in a low voice so only she could hear.

Her arms crossed. “Fine. Talk.”

I felt eyes on us from everywhere. “Not here. Follow me.”

She let me lead her to a secluded corner of the yard where fewer people wandered. I turned to her, taking in the hardness around her eyes.

Fuck. I’d put that look there.

She took a deep breath as if gathering her thoughts, and then pointed at the diamond on her finger. “This is a giant lie. Mimi believes it. The whole freaking world believes it—except for Bianca! I never agreed to this. Never.” Her lips trembled. “I was just starting to think you were different.” She broke eye contact with me, her eyes blinking rapidly. “You aren’t the person I thought you were.”

Heaviness settled on my chest. “I can explain about tonight—”

She cut me off. “You did it for the Heisman.”

I nodded.

“Football will always be first with you.”

“Yes,” I said softly. “It trumps everything.”

With clenched fists, she bit her bottom lip, struggling to compose herself. Her eyes speared me, a look of determination in them. “I’m not going to cry. You aren’t worth it. It’s just—for a while there—I thought you were different, Max. I was wrong.”

Fuck.

“Sunny. I’m . . . I’m sorry you’re upset.” I took a tentative step closer to her, my hand splayed out. “Tonight could have been the deciding factor for me—”

She shook her head, waving me off as she backed away from me. “Stop talking about yourself and everything you’ll gain. You deceived me. How far will you go, Max?”

Silence ticked, the tension ramping higher as we stared at each other.

“You’re just like Bart,” she bit the words out.

The words tore through me. I raked a hand through my hair. “I am not him.”

Someone cranked up a Rhianna song and she turned further away from me, giving me a view of her stiff back as she searched the yard. She was obviously looking for an excuse to get away from me. I watched as her eyes landed on Bart, lingered for a moment, and then moved on.

God. I swallowed and shoved my hands in my pants. What a total fuck-up this night was. I’d taken her trust and thrown it back in her face, and worst of all, I’d known this would be her reaction.

Had it all been for the glory of the Heisman—or was part of me pushing her away, afraid of getting too close? Fuck. I couldn’t think straight.

“Tate,” she called in a strained voice, waving at him from across the yard. “You’re up for the next dance, buddy.”

“You’re walking away?” I asked and reached out for her, but she stepped back, nearly stumbling. I caught her arm before she fell, straightening her, but she pushed me off, anxious to get away from me. I sighed. “We need to figure this out, Sunny.”

“I—I just can’t.”

She sent me a final look and marched off.

I fumed, watching them go to the pool area someone had obviously designated as a dance floor. A makeshift bar was across from it and someone had even brought a keg. My own house and I had no clue what was going on . . .

The dark-haired girl approached me. “Yeah,” she mused. “You screwed up with Sunny, Quarterback.”