Page 20 of Elite Player
Funny, she’s been running from her family, and I think I’ve been trying to find one this whole time.
Yeah, we make quite a pair.
“Well…” I stand and hold out my hand for her. “Guess we show him what he’s been missing, hm?”
She places her palm against mine after a moment and stands. “What do you mean?”
“If we’re doing this, let’s do it. Let’s tell them all to fuck off. Waylon, your family, the front office—wait, no. I’m not telling the front office to fuck off. In fact, I’m going to be a good little choirboy, and you’re going to help me.”
She stifles a smile at that, flattening the twitch of her lips. “You think I can make you a choirboy?”
“No, but we can pretend, can’t we?”
She nods. “So we put on a show for you to keep your contract with the Iron?”
I lift our clasped hands between us, my ring still on her finger. “And to get your family off your back, making that dumbass jealous in the process.”
“That’ll never happen.”
I place a kiss on her knuckles. “You’d be surprised, Jojo. We’ll talk later, okay?” When she agrees, I tweak her nose. “Get some sleep, and try avoiding any more biscuits to the dome from here on out, huh?”
That earns me a laugh, husky yet too brief. “Sure.”
CHAPTER 7
JO
In the twelvehours since Nico left my apartment, he’s texted me no fewer than ten times. His messages range from curious questions likeI noticed you have a bag of knitting stuff. What do you make?To weirdly flirtatious things likeWhat do you sleep in? Bet it’s a hot little black lacy number.To sweet greetings like the one this morning.Hey, Jo! I’m about to leave for practice. Hope the noggin’s feeling better.
He is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Also the most confusing. I understand that he’s a natural flirt, but with me? He doesn’t need to put on a show when it’s only the two of us, yet he does. He flirts and smiles and touches me as if he enjoys it.
As if he enjoys being with me.
I can’t wrap my head around it. My entire life, I’ve been the outcast, and now I’ve suddenly been adopted, like a sad-looking puppy in an ASPCA commercial. Nico plucked me up out of a dire situation, and just when I thought he would leave it alone—leave me alone—he promised he wouldn’t. He intends to follow through on this ridiculous fake engagement.
Maybe it will help his standing with the team, but I’m not sure what it will do for me, because eventually, this fake engagement will have to end. I’m not going to fake-marry the guy. Atsome point, we will have to “break up,” and I’ll be in the exact same position I was in before—an outcast.
I finish another line of stitches before setting down my needles and yarn to move around and stretch my back. My apartment is tiny. There is no way around it, but it’s alsomine. I work hard for this 350-square-foot studio, and while I can barely do a few jumping jacks in the space, it’s my home. The place where I remove my makeup and all the emotional shields I put on for myself during the day.
Since relocating here, I’ve made friends. I enjoy my job. I’ve even gone on a handful of dates—no matter that they’ve never turned out well, but I have a life. One that suits me more than West Virginia ever did.
I spend a few minutes watching the traffic outside the window, a couple of teenagers skipping school, even though I’m sure the year’s just begun, and I smile at the elderly couple shuffling down the sidewalk, a small cart of bags in front of them.
I love my corner of the world.
Too bad it’s intruded on by my mother.
Her name appears on my cell phone, buzzing next to the sink, and simply knowing she’s on the other end of that call makes my anxiety skyrocket. But I’ve never been good at drawing boundaries with my family, so I answer it.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Bucky! There you are! You never texted me last night.” Her voice is all sugarcoated concern, making my chest tighten a fraction more.
“I was?—”
“With Nico. I know. You don’t have to explain.”
Except, with her tone, it seems like that’s what she wants—an explanation.
