Plus, since the scandal at Golden, I’ve started to view my actions like they might end up front-page news and Transfer Student Gets White Girl Wasted and Sleeps with First Guy She Meets isn’t how I want to start out at Valley.
I try and smile naturally at him, not letting him or my roommates see how frazzled I am. I say hello, voice wavering. He returns my greeting, keeping that cocky smirk plastered on his face as he lifts two fingers from the desk in a casual wave. He’s totally pulling it off while I’m pretty sure I look like I walked into a surprise party completely naked.
A plain blue t-shirt the same color as his eyes, jeans, and that hair… messy hair shouldn’t be this attractive. He’s seated next to two other guys that I can now assume are basketball players. Now that I know that’s his sport, I can totally see it. Tall, muscular but not bulky, and long and lean fingers that make heat bloom in my face when I remember what he did with them.
Professor Sanchez directs our attention to the whiteboard, and I’m all too thankful to have a reason to look forward.
“Welcome to Business Communications. I am Professor Sanchez. Let’s get right to the important stuff, shall we? Attendance is not mandatory, but if you miss more than three of my classes, I will dock you a percent for every additional class missed.”
A collective groan sweeps over the class. Classes with an attendance policy are the worst.
Professor Sanchez continues, “Ten percent will come from weekly quizzes, fifteen percent from homework, and that leaves…”
Someone up front finally says, “Seventy-five percent.”
“Yes. Exactly.” He picks up a stack of papers on his desk and hands them to the front row. “Take one and pass them around. Seventy-five percent of your grade in this class will come from the semester group project outlined in detail in the syllabus coming around. You will work in groups of two or three to create a pitch for a product not geared toward your demographic. You’ll each choose a product from the basket. Find a partner and then one of you come up front to select your product.”
Panic to find a partner has everyone glancing around the room.
“Go ahead. You’ll have the rest of the class to get these details ironed out, and we’ll reconvene on Wednesday.”
I turn my head just enough to see Nathan hasn’t moved and he’s watching me with amusement. Oh, God, now what?
Emily and Sydney are already huddled together reading the project syllabus and if I ask to be in their group, they’re going to know I lied about Nathan and they may very well say no anyway.
I do a quick perusal of the entire classroom, but everyone is already pairing off. When I glance back at Nathan, the guy next to him elbows him and lifts the syllabus. Nathan says something in response that I can’t make out, but when his blue eyes meet mine, he tips his head to the empty chair on his other side in an unmistakable invitation to join him.
Every step closer to him makes my heart hammer faster in my chest. “Hey, ummm, do you maybe wanna be partners?”
He tries and fails to keep from smiling. “That depends. Are you asking as my girlfriend or as the girl who kicked me out of her room before I’d even got my pants on?”
My face flushes and I freeze, grappling for how to respond.
“Relax, I’m kidding.” He motions again to the chair next to him.
I sit. “I’m so sorry.”
“For which thing?”
This time, at my loss for words, he doesn’t try and hide the giant grin on his face. “This is gonna be fun.”
He picks up the syllabus from his desk and starts to read. I’m still gawking at him a minute later when he says, “If you keep staring at me like that, though, I might get a little creeped out.”
“Sorry.” I duck my head and hide behind the paper. I skim the project guidelines, noting mostly how much time Nathan and I are going to be forced to spend together. If he’s at all put out by the idea, he doesn’t let on. Leaning back in his chair, one leg is stretched out at an angle to accommodate his height. His hair is a little too long on top, but the messy look suits him. So does the scruff.
“So, what do you think?” he asks as he sets the paper down.
“Fine.”
He smirks.
Get it together, Chloe. “Do you want to exchange numbers? It looks like we’re going to need to work on this outside of class.”
Two long seconds pass before he scribbles his number on a piece of paper and passes it to me. “Knew you’d change your mind about wanting my number.”
He stands and shoulders his backpack, giving me a wink before he heads out of the class.
“What about picking our product?” I call after him.
“You pick, let me know what we got when you text me.”
I’m still jittery from my encounter with Nathan when I make the walk from campus to practice. It’s going to be a very long semester seeing him in class three times a week. He’s ridiculously hot and charming and everything I don’t need in my life right now. Volleyball has to be my focus. The other night was… well, it was pretty spectacular, if I’m honest, but it can’t happen again. Not until I’ve proven myself. I need to know that I’m capable of doing it all on my own.
But working beside Nathan all semester is going to be a sweet kind of torture.
I get to the courts one minute before practice—perfectly timed to avoid being in the line of Bri’s wrath for longer than necessary. Standing off to the side by myself while my teammates chat, I strip off my shoes and grab my sunglasses before tossing my bag in the sand.
Coach won’t arrive for another fifteen minutes, giving our captain the responsibility of getting us warm and loose.
“Three laps,” Bri calls out and the team shuffles to the perimeter and begins the run around the courts. I step in line, clearing my head of the day and ready to get to work, but Bri’s voice yelling my name is like nails on a chalkboard. “Chloe. You’ve brought opponent colors to practice.” Shit. I glance toward my Golden team bag. Valley and Golden colors are similar, but I get it. It’s disrespectful, and I hadn’t even done it on purpose. “Since you’re such a fan, today you can practice with the bag.”
She can’t mean I have to carry my bag all through practice. But the icy stare she gives me tells me just how serious she is. I walk back toward my bag with anger radiating. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming out my ears. Anger at my bitchy captain. Anger at myself for being so stupid. And anger at my parents for my being here.
I loop the bag over my shoulder and step into line a full lap behind already.
After practice, I walk back to the dorm slowly. I’m so tired I don’t even care that no one looks up or speaks to me when I head through the common area to my room. I stop at the sight of the Valley Volleyball backpack on my bed.
“Hey.” Sydney pokes her head in before walking all the way into our room. “Do you like it? I managed to get you one of the new ones instead of the hideous ones from two years ago that are some awful purply-blue color.”
“Thank you, I should have thought of that.” I start transferring the essentials to my new bag.
“There’s a supply closet in the locker room at the fieldhouse. I only grabbed the bag, but there are shirts and water bottles and some other stuff too.”
I face her and see nothing but sincerity. I want to hug her, but I hold back. Someday, I hope we can get there. Just one more reason I need to focus on volleyball. If I prove myself on the court, I think my teammates will be more inclined to accept me. “Thank you. I appreciate it, really. I didn’t even think about bringing my old bag to practice.”
I’ve carried it for the better part of three years. So much that it feels weird when I pick up the Valley one and try it out. It’s bigger and made just different enough that it feels unnatural.
She shrugs and looks like she might want to say more, but Bri calls for her from the living room. Sydney smiles apologetically. “You’re welcome.”
Tuesday is far less eventful. I don’t have any more
run-ins with Nathan, and I give Bri absolutely no reason to yell at me during practice. I’m in full Valley gear, and I work my ass off. Coach even comments on my performance, telling me to keep it up.
Wednesday afternoon, I head to class early so I can grab a seat before Nathan gets here. I try and busy myself with my phone, but I’m still aware of the exact moment he walks in. His deep voice slides over my skin, leaving goosebumps. “Can I sit by you?”
I gesture to the seat beside me, the same one he sat in last class, and he lets his backpack drop to the floor as he sits. He looks to me expectantly.
“What?” I say finally, an unsteady smile spreading across my face at his cheeky grin.
“I’m waiting for you to apologize.”
“For?”
“Not calling me. You asked for my digits and then never called.”
I think he’s trying to look hurt, but the smirk on his face is too damn irresistible to feel too sorry for him. “I’m sure you managed to fill your time just the same.”
He shrugs. “A guy can’t wait around forever.”
“Forty-eight hours is hardly forever.”
His smirk turns into a full-blown panty-melting smile.
“What’d we get?” he asks, referencing the product for our project.
“A pen.” I dig out the paper with the information and hand it to him, but I’m saved from any more of his charm when Professor Sanchez starts in on today’s lecture.
For fifty long minutes, I do my best to take notes and absorb the material, which is a feat of Olympic proportions with Nathan beside me. He makes me feel so… aware. Aware of him and of my body reacting to him. This is ridiculous. Hot guys don’t usually turn me into a distracted mess, but there’s just something about him.
When Professor Sanchez dismisses us, I shoot up from my seat, ready to flee. Nathan slides his leg out in front of him before standing, blocking my exit path.
“You got plans tonight?”
I don’t, of course. “Yeah, sorry.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me. “We’re having a party tonight.”
Sydney and Emily slide up behind me. We’re in their way, but they look less interested in leaving than they do eavesdropping.
“Text me, you have my number.” He steps into the aisle and then looks back. “Hope to see you later.”
His long legs carry him out of the auditorium quickly, and I stand stupidly frozen in place until he’s gone.
“I still can’t believe you’re dating him,” Sydney says. “He’s so hot.”
Emily pushes in front of Sydney so she’s walking beside me as we climb the stairs. “You’re going tonight, right?”
“Actually, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m going to stay in.”
“What?! No way,” Emily says loudly and then lowers her voice. “We have to go.”
“We?” I don’t even try to hide the humor in my tone. Emily’s never been mean to me like Bri, but this is the most she’s spoken to me directly. Still, I think we could be friends if it weren’t for the weird situation we’re in, so I don’t call her out for trying to use me to go to my fake boyfriend’s party.
“I think this could be good for all of us. Bri would never admit it, but she’s dying to go. She’s shyer than you’d think when it comes to socializing with people outside the team,” Sydney says as we push out of the building.
Emily nods her agreement.
“So, I just invite her to the party and all will be forgiven?”
She snorts. “God, no. First, we convince her to go, then we have to show her how awesome you are, then maybe she’ll ease up.”
“That sounds simple enough.” I roll my eyes.
“Just leave it to us.” Sydney and Emily take off, smiling and laughing as I follow behind them to practice. Why do I think my fake boyfriend has already been more trouble than he’s worth?
I’m lying in bed reading when Sydney storms into our room with matching neon green towels wrapped around her body and on top of her head. She’s got a big smile on her face. “Get up. I talked Bri into going and I made a few calls. Practically the whole team is going.” She does a little happy squeal and claps her hands.
“The whole team?” I ask, panic rising. I don’t need any more witnesses to what is surely going to be an epic failure of a night. I don’t know any real details about the party. I don’t even know where Nathan lives.
Resigning myself, I grab my phone.
Me: Hi. It’s Chloe.
I wait for a response, tapping my pinky on the back of my phone. Sydney pulls three different dresses from our closet and puts them on the bed. Her wardrobe is a rainbow of colors and the three she pulled are no exception. A yellow dress with straps that crisscross in the back, a purple strapless spandex number, and a hot pink, super short dress with thick straps and a square neck.
After five minutes of watching Sydney deliberate, pick the hot pink dress and then switch to the purple one, and then go back to the hot pink, I still haven’t heard from Nathan.
Me: So, this party… where is it? The roommates wanna go so looks like I’m in.
I try not to overthink it and press send. This way, if we run into each other, it won’t be like I’m admitting to being into him. I mean, I don’t even want to go… except I kind of don’t hate the thought of seeing him again. Outside of class, of course, where I can flee at any second. And it’s just a party. As long as I steer clear of the Everclear and don’t invite him back to my dorm, all should be fine. We’re going to be partners all semester so I might as well get used to spending time with him as friends.
“You should start getting ready,” Sydney says as she plugs in her blow dryer and spritzes her hair with a heat protectant spray. “Parties at The White House are packed. It’s best to get there early.”
The White House? I feel like that name should mean something to me, so I don’t ask what the hell The White House is even though I’m dying to know.
“What happened to showing up to parties fashionably late?” I bite my tongue before I add that at Golden we never arrived at a party before eleven. I need to quit reminding them of my past.
“You can be fashionably late to parties on frat row, but parties at The White House are the kind of events you want to be there for every possible minute. You don’t want to miss anything. I mean, you’ve seen that place, it’s incredible. They’ve had some epic parties there.”
“Mhmm.” I brush past her and disappear into the closet. “How do you guys want to get there? Should we take an Uber?”
She laughs. “Did you guys seriously Uber to parties within walking distance at Golden? We’ll just walk. It would take us longer to get an Uber than it would to walk there. Wear flats and carry your heels; that’s what I always do. We can stop and slip on our heels before we cross over at the fieldhouse.”
I store every piece of information she offers in case I need it later. It’s going to be a very long night.
8
Nathan
Datson is wearing a beer guzzler helmet, passing out cups for the keg, and making a point to talk to every one of the fifty or so people walking around the first floor of our house. He and Shaw moved in today, and Datson has named himself the one-man welcoming committee.
“How are the new roommates?” Gabby asks as I follow her around the party.
“Good.” I shrug and step in front of her to stop someone from plowing into her. The party is just getting started, and people are already beyond drunk. First week of school parties are crazy.
“Where’s your drink?” she asks, finally noticing I don’t have one. Aside from the night with Chloe, I’d been doing a good job of keeping the partying under control. Before I can answer, she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen.
Datson swoops in just as we near the liquor bottles on the counter. He holds out a red cup. “Need a cup or are you drinking straight from the bottle tonight?”
I take a cup without answering him and head to the keg and pour
a beer.
“Now you’re ready,” she says and links her arm through mine. I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not that no one has noticed how much I’ve cut back.
“Ready for what?” I ask, noticing the huge grin on her face that is a dead giveaway that she’s up to no good.
“Operation girlfriend.”
Both brows lift under the hair falling into my eyes. I brush it away and go to tuck it behind my ears. It’s a habit that makes me miss my long hair. I cut it a few months ago, and I’m still not used to my once chin-length hair being cropped short.
“I don’t think I’m exactly in the place right now for a girlfriend. I couldn’t even buy her a drink at the bar.”
I know she heard me, but Gabby ignores me and pulls me around the room. “Alright, what’s your type? Blonde, brunette, redhead? Ooh, how about that girl over there with the pink hair?”
Shaking my head, I indulge her. “What if her natural color is awful, and she goes back to it a month after we’re dating?”
“That is strangely insightful.” Gabby stops and glances around the room. I do a quick perusal and drop my eyes. Having my best friend shop for girls for me isn’t awkward at all. She huffs something about my being picky. “How about the girl in the yellow dress by the window?”
Gabby moves toward her before I can respond. I’ve never seen her and she looks nervous. Yellow dress, blonde hair, tall and tan—athletic build. I can’t place which sport, but I’m banking on her being a student-athlete. Ten bucks she’s a freshman. Or, I guess, ten high fives because that’s all I’m fucking good for.
“Hi!” Gabby startles the poor girl, and I do my best to hang back and not make this situation any more painful than it already is.
I love Gabby, I do. She’s full of life and has nothing but good intentions but I don’t want to be set up. I think dating and relationships should happen naturally when you least expect it. Just walking along minding your own business and BAM, hot girl drops in front of you. Sort of like how Chloe and I met, but with less alcohol and exactly zero of the shame and regret in the girl’s eyes the next morning.
The Fake: A College Sports Romance (Smart Jocks #4) Page 5
