Page 51 of Second Down Fake

Curled up under the covers with no reason to jump out of bed. I had it all: warmth, quiet, and nothing scheduled all day. No roommates itching to use the living room. No utility bill looming. No well-meaning family members asking whether I’d decided to go back to school or found a full-time job.

And I had yesterday. After Diego fell asleep on my lap, I played video games for another two hours before calling a car and slipping out while he snoozed on the couch.

Not that I didn’t want to stay. My focus kept slipping from the screen and onto Diego. He had a great grin. A cocky, self-assured grin that made his entire face light up in a way that filled my entire body with warmth. But having him in my lap, completely unguarded and relaxed made my stomach ache and my chest tighten. I replayed the kiss, embellishing details until the innocent kiss slipped into more R-rated territory.

My phone buzzed on the side table, and I fumbled from under the covers to grab it.

BECCA

Seriously, Cassie? This is a little much.

I clicked on the image attached to the accusatory morning text.

No wonder Becca messaged me. A picture of Diego and I wrapped in a kiss filled the screen, a slew of spectators gawking at us. I wore his stained jersey, and Diego had his hands under the fabric, gripping my waist. During the game, the kiss felt intimate and reserved, but judging by the picture, we’d been anything but. The kiss looked hot, steamy, and definitely not G-rated based on Lena covering Mila’s eyes on the right hand side of the photo.

But it was a perfect morning, and I didn’t need my big sister’s negativity. Diego and I had a contract, a plan. Of course, there’d be kissing. And with Diego’s cadre of acting exes, he learned from the best. Had it taken me off guard? Yes, but I wouldn’t let it happen again.

Instead of replying to my grouchy sister, I sent the picture to Diego.

Well, we caused a ruckus.

The text stayed on “Delivered” and I swiped away.

Notifications peppered my screen. A text from Kendall asking if I could cover a couple shifts followed by wide eyes emojis and the picture. An email from a Norwalk club, asking if I wanted a VIP booth and maybe I could bring Diego. A publicist who wanted to know who handled my socials.

Diego’s face covered the screen, and I answered the call. A frisson of excitement raced through me, and I stamped it back down, waiting for two rings before answering.

“Good morning,” I purred into the phone.

“It’s nearly eleven.”

“Still morning. How’s it going?”

“Not great. I had a girl at my place last night and she took off in the middle of the night.” A hint of disappointment threaded his voice.

“She left a note.”

“She scribbled ‘Night’ onto a box of lo mein.”

“Which she put in the fridge before she took off. You’re welcome.”

“You could have stayed. Or woken me up.”

I wrapped my arms around my knees, drawing them in. “You looked very peaceful, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother.”

“You haven’t talked to my family,” I said with an uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, you saw the picture? I’m afraid we torpedoed James’ plan of you having a nice, normal, low-key relationship this season.”

My grip tightened on the phone as a beat of silence passed. I waited for Diego to tell me the kiss was a mistake. Or a joke gone too far. Or great acting. Something to dissipate how very real the kiss felt.

“We look pretty good together.”

I sighed. “We do.”

“And I wouldn’t worry about James. He’s thrilled with the press and thrilled you can’t break up with me before the holidays.”

“I’m flattered he thinks I’d break up with you. I’m pretty sure it’d be the other way around.”

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