Page 50 of Second Down Fake

“What exactly are you doing here?” Diego asked, mouth filled with lo mein.

“I’m catching the dumb bird. What does it look like?” My box of fried rice forgotten, I leaned forward, concentrating on the screen. “I just need to get this guy out of the way.”

“Is that an elephant or some sort of hyena with a giant tongue?” Diego grabbed a slice of a scallion pancake off the spread of food on the coffee table and held it up to my mouth. I ate it out of his hand, eyes plastered on the screen.

“No idea. Rabid dog?” I threw the last of my greens at the bird on screen and crossed my fingers I’d kill the mystery creatures before the bird ran away.

“You’ve got him. Wait, no, no, no.”

Too late. The blade beam I’d meant to go after the rabid dog hit the chocobo. The bird attacked everyone on screen and ran. I threw down the remote, tilting my head back onto the couch. “I am terrible at this game.”

Diego leaned forward and placing his noodles amongst the rest of the food. When he leaned back, he set his elbow on the back of the couch, bridging the center seat. “And even though you’re terrible, I’d still wear your jersey.”

I grinned, fingers brushing against the clean jersey I’d pulled on. It didn’t smell like turf and Diego, but it also wasn’t covered in grass stains. “I don’t think they give out jerseys for playing Final Fantasy. And I’m sorry about the jersey thing. I thought it’d be funnier.”

“It’s fine. You motivated me.”

I almost believed him too, but the increasingly pissed off texts from my sister countered his narrative.

“Hey, I wanted to mention something that happened at the press conference.”

His tone shifted and I turned to face him. “What’s that?”

“One of the local reporters....” He frowned, shaking his head. “They got your name. That you’re Becca’s sister. I don’t know whether he figured that out during the whole half time thing or earlier.”

My cheeks grew hot. The whole half time thing.

The jersey had been a joke, but there was nothing funny about Diego’s reaction. If I’d run the idea by Becca, she would have told me how childish I was acting. How distracting something like that would be to Diego. I wouldn’t have listened to her, of course.

And worse than that, I’d found Diego’s reaction hot. Like scorching, searingly hot. I wouldn’t have said I had a thing for jealous men, but clearly, he’d tapped into some subconscious desire that made me manifest that kiss. Because how else had it happened?

My breath caught in my throat the second I spotted him on the stairs, heading in my direction. The panic that had turned to lust switched to something else completely when his lips brushed mine.

The kiss had been barely a kiss. A faint impression of a kiss, but I hadn’t felt right since. Everything felt fuzzy and new and exciting.

“Oh,” I said, barely able to hear him over the rushing in my ears and my heart beating at the thought of the hardly worth mentioning kiss.

“Obviously, if someone didn’t find out, James would have leaked it.” He paused. “I just don’t like it.”

Maybe I definitely had a thing for jealous guys. But Diego, as charming and vaguely possessive as he was, was not for me. Diego was for statuesque women with millions of dollars in their bank account and city view apartments.

“It’s fine. I’m not famous, like some people in this house, but you bounded up into the stands and stripped for me. So pretty important.” The hint of a blush washed over his face. Enough to make my stomach tumble. “And that means we sold the whole fake dating thing, right? If I’m on a reporter’s radar?”

“Yeah,” he answered slowly. “I guess we sold it.”

He’s certainly sold it to me. Too well. “How tired are you?”

He picked up his head. “Not bad. The first game is always the worst. It’ll get easier as the season goes on.”

“I can get out of here, if you want. Call a ride.”

He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t do that. Keep playing. I might just lay down for a bit.”

I pulled a throw pillow onto my lap, patting it.

Diego shot me a lopsided grin and laid down, his hair brushing my pants and my fingers itching to rub it. “Now, go catch a bird.”

* * *

---