Page 38 of Fake Out

The pub noise fades. The world narrows down to just us two and the beat of my heart, loud in my ears.

“Why?” I dare to ask.

There’s a long silence, one in which I can hear the scrape of a barstool across hardwood, the clatter of glasses being cleaned, the soft whispers of lovers near us.

“Because,” she finally says, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “You haven’t let fame get to your head. You’re… you’re real.”

Her words resonate within me like a plucked string. She sees me. The real me. Not the football player the world perceives but Charlie Elwood, the man beneath all those jerseys and accolades.

I reach across the table and gently take her hand, her fingers warm and inviting in mine.

“Marissa,” I begin, my voice carrying an unspoken promise. “I won’t let you down.”

Electricity sparks between us, and too soon she’s pulling away. “I know you won’t. You’ve shown how dedicated you are to your career.”

I wasn’t talking about my career. I was speaking about our personal relationship.

But then again, who am I kidding? The only personal relationship we have exists in my head. Any romance between us will always be fake.

Marissa shakes her head. “Enough of that, though. It’s old news.”

I nod, feeling an unexpected pang of jealousy. I hate the thought of some other guy having hurt her like that.

“If it’s worth anything,” I begin carefully, my words measured. “You deserve better than that.”

She looks at me for a moment, her eyes softening. “Thank you, Charlie.”

My heart pounds louder when she says my name. But before things can get too intense, she changes the subject and we go back to our light-hearted banter.

But even though we’ve moved on from the somber topic, her words echo in my mind: “His ego went through the roof, and I got left behind.”

Is that why she’s holding back with me? Is it because of more than our need to remain professional? Is she worried that if she gets too close, I’ll break her heart?

In the past, I would have admitted that could happen. Heck, it almost definitely would happen. I’ve never been one to stick around.

But I want to give Marissa more than that. She deserves it. I deserve it.

Being with her is changing me.

I can feel the shift as we continue talking, a tension that wasn’t there before. And for once, I’m not running away. Instead, I feel a pull toward her. An irresistible force that has me glancing her way each time she laughs at something I say.

Today, it’s like every word we speak has a double meaning. Is this just friendly banter? Or is there something else here, bubbling under the surface?

I study her face, trying to decode the flicker in her eyes. I watch as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and as she bites her bottom lip while deep in thought.

There’s an allure to her movements, a grace I’ve never quite noticed before. As she talks, her hands move in animated gestures that captivate me. There’s an energy to her, a spark that is just so… Marissa.

She looks toward me, her eyes meeting mine, and I’m locked in their depths. There’s something there, hidden and masked but not entirely concealed. I’m seeing something I’ve never seen before, an openness, a trust. Maybe even something more.

I lean closer, feeling the air crackle between us. “I want to tell you something.”

Her throat rolls with a swallow. “What?”

“This week with you…” I inhale deeply. “It’s been the best of my life.”

“Charlie,” she begins, biting down on her lip again as she speaks my name. “I…”

The words hang between us like a thundercloud waiting to burst. Time seems to halt as I wait for her to finish the sentence.

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