Page 36 of Fake Out

I don’t even care that she’s holding my hand for show. I don’t care that, soon enough, all of this will be over. I’m happy where I am right now, and it’s enough.

We eventually find ourselves outside a cozy bar, the soft glow of the lights inside inviting us in. As we step through the door, the warm atmosphere envelops us like a comforting embrace.

“Bar or table?” I ask.

“Let’s grab a table.” She scans the room for one that’s open.

“Sounds good to me,” I reply, my hand still intertwined with hers as we wind our way through the bar.

We settle into our seats and order two pints of beer and a basket of onion rings. Taking my glass in hand, I catch her eye.

“Here’s to our… relationship,” I say with a grin, raising my glass in a toast.

Marissa laughs and clinks her glass against mine, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Thank you for all your hard work, Marissa,” I continue sincerely, taking a sip of my drink. “You’ve done…” I shake my head in disbelief, “so much for me. I could never repay you.”

She blushes slightly at the compliment, looking down at her drink. “It’s been an amazing experience, and I’m glad I could help. Besides, you’re helping me as well. This will also turn my career around.”

I chuckle. “We’re not doing too bad, are we?”

Her smile lights up the room. “Nope. Not too bad at all.”

As we talk, I notice people watching us from across the bar. A few even pull out their phones to snap pictures of us together. It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’m happy to be seen with Marissa. So what if the relationship isn’t real? My pride in it sure as hell is.

“So, tell me about your life,” I prompt, eager to learn more about the woman sitting across from me.

“Oh.” She wraps her hands around her pint glass. “Haven’t we gone over it all?”

“We went over anything we might be quizzed on. Any info we might need to cover our asses.” I lean back and study her. “I want to know about the Marissa no one else gets to see.”

She laughs. “You think there’s a Marissa who’s in hiding?”

“Doesn’t everyone have a piece of themselves that they don’t share with the world?”

Her front teeth gently bite into her full bottom lip. Something catches in my chest, and I feel like I’m being magnetically pulled towards her. It takes nearly all of my strength to stay where I am, planted in my seat.

“Perhaps.” She raises her chin and looks down at me, a playful challenge in her eyes. “And what makes you think I would share that part of myself with you?”

“Okay.” Laughing, I lift up my hands in surrender. “Sorry, I asked.”

“No, it’s all right.” She sips her beer. “What would you like to know?”

I consider it for a long moment. Number one, I want to know how she really feels about me. Does she think I’m some bumbling idiot who needs to have his hand held through life, or does she see me as something more? Even the slightest amount.

Could she ever imagine the two of us together for real?

I swallow that question, though. It’s off-limits. I told her I would keep our boundaries in place, so I’ll be doing exactly that.

Which means I settle for my next question. “How did you become a sports agent, anyway?”

Her face lights up. “My dad and I used to spend weekends going to games or watching them on TV,” she explains, her voice filled with nostalgia. “I loved how sports brought people together. The energy, the excitement, the sense of community. That’s what made me want to be a part of it all.”

I nod in understanding, remembering my own love for football and the camaraderie it inspired. It’s funny. I would have never thought we had this much in common.

“Your passion for sports really shines through.” I smile at her enthusiasm. “I can see why you’re so good at what you do.”

“Thank you, Charlie,” she replies, her cheeks tinted with a hint of pink. “It’s been a long journey, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

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