Page 41 of Second Down Fake

“Wow,” Cassandra floated over to the couch, collapsing onto it like she’d been in my basement a million times. “Fancy.”

“She couldn’t afford it. I got a football scholarship. A booster paid the bill. I just had to pass classes and win games.”

She studied my face. “That must have been tough, moving away from your mom so young.”

My throat constricted as I sat down beside her. “My mom’s a bit of a badass. She took it in stride. And I was a jerk teenager. It was probably better for us to have some space.”

“You were a kid.”

I shrugged. “I was on the way to be an NFL superstar.”

She laughed, the seriousness draining from the room. “I’m glad that actually achieving that goal hasn’t made you any more humble.”

“That’s a lie. You met me at my most humble.” My fingers crept down the back of the couch.

The night we’d spent together in a treehouse at a football party in college felt like a lifetime away and only yesterday. I’d been a different person then, still smarting from being a third-string backup quarterback who got a lucky break. I’d been all ego and bravado and scared as hell. But a couple of seasons in the NFL had knocked that fear out of me. I’d settled into my profession, treating it less like a game and more like the job it was.

But, in nearly every way, Cassandra was exactly who I remembered. Brash and bold and memorizing.

“Your most humble? You were so full of yourself.”

“See, I even had you tricked.”

“All hat, no horse?”

I laughed. “All jersey, no talent.”

She leaned forward, her hair brushing my arm. “That’s not true at all. Then or now.”

I exhaled, a sudden heaviness in my gut. A heaviness at what I’d roped her into: an entire season in the spotlight of sports reporters and gossip columnists. “We can still walk this relationship back, Cassandra.”

Her green eyes locked on mine, a tiny shudder drifting through her body. “Why do you say that?”

I captured an errant lock of her hair between my fingers, wrapping the brown waves around my finger. “Because I like you. Because I don’t think this will be as easy as you think.”

She lolled her head onto the couch. Her cheek rested on my palm. “I signed paperwork, got a season buddy, and went to your office party. This is happening. Unless you don’t want me around anymore.”

“I want you around, Cassandra,” I whispered, meaning it more than I should. “I just don’t want to be six weeks into the season and realize it’s a bigger headache than you expected.”

She shook her head with a grin. “It’ll be fun. An adventure. And worst case, it’s a giant mistake and, depending on what that NDA said, I’ll still be able to tell everyone that I once dated the famous Diego Salazar. And you can brag about how you once dated the best ghost tour operator on the east coast.”

I laughed. “I thought you were just claiming Virginia?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m claiming the east coast. I deserve it.”

“I’ll fight anyone who comes for your title.”

“What a hero.” She swooned against my arm before jolting upright. Her cheeks blushed, and her eyes darted to my arm. “Anyway, you’re stuck with me, which means I have full access to your video games as long as you invite me over. So, cue up some Final Fantasy. I’m about to live out all my childhood dreams that were crushed by being a little sister.”

“This is going to be painful for me, isn’t it?”

“Only if you think hours and hours of chocobo breeding are painful.” She crossed her legs, scooping the PlayStation controller from the coffee table. “I have just one more question before all of our conversation revolves around Final Fantasy. What am I supposed to wear to an NFL game?”

Sinking into the couch, wrapping one arm over the back of the couch, I shot her a wink. “Your favorite player’s jersey.”

FOURTEEN

CASSANDRA

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