Page 88 of Second Down Fake

“Good thing we have all night.”

TWENTY-NINE

CASSANDRA

Diego ran the ball into the end zone to thunderous cheers. The stadium shook as the Breakers entered the fourth quarter with a sizable lead and a rapidly clear path to the championship.

“The bye week didn’t slow them down any, did it?” Lena yelled over the noise.

Bye week hadn’t slowed anything down.

Diego and I returned to Norwalk with question marks still surrounding our relationship. We wavered somewhere between dating and friends and yoked together by a massive NDA. I’d been in some strange relationships before, but never one predicated on being in the vicinity of Elvis-themed landmarks to get laid.

“So, how was Mississippi?” Lena asked.

Our tailgating time had been dedicated to discussing Noa and Lena’s trip to Iceland, a whirlwind tour that had stretched from the capital into the mountains and the stories of Noa’s inability to fit into everything from chairs to subway cars had us both in laughing fits.

My cheeks burned, and I feigned nonchalance. “It was nice. Diego’s parents are incredible. His mom is a manic-pixie Southern belle. She was wonderful and desperate to teach me to cook.”

Lena laughed, eyes skirting to the field as the defense crushed another attempt at a down. “I didn’t take you for a cook.”

“Neither has anyone else. I got to meet all Diego’s grade school friends, too. Got all the good stories about him.”

She dragged her eyes off the field. “Oh, I love that. What are the good stories?”

“Sadly, nothing too scandalous. Just dumb kid stories. Oh, and I made friends with a guy named Ram, who sent us home with a bunch of moonshine.”

“Wow, we didn’t get any good liquor in Iceland.” Lena grinned, brown hair glinting in the sun. “And how’s it going between you and Diego? That seems like a lot of together time.”

I shrugged, playing off the lie. “It was fine. His mom knows about the contract. And at this point, it feels more normal to be with him than without.”

Lena raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Really?”

The trill of a whistle jolted us from our conversation as the ref called the game to an end. The Breakers celebrated, and a mob of cameras flooded the fields for post-game interviews and reaction shots. At the center of the storm stood Diego, a sea of microphones in his face.

He scanned the stands, arm extended and finger pointed until it landed on me. His bright white smile shined. The type of smile people wrote songs about and cataloged in photographs for magazine covers. He turned his palm, beckoning me onto the field.

Lena chuckled. “You two are getting great at this fake dating thing. Hell, I’m even starting to believe it.”

My chest tightened as a rush of fire burned through my body. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Diego jogged to the sidelines, ignoring the people in his wake, and I bounced down the bleachers. The reporters’ attention shifted, flashes and questions hurled at both of us as Breakers’ fans stopped exiting the stadium to gawk.

“Good game,” I called, leaning over the railing and ducking my head to his ear to keep the conversation between us.

Or at least attempt to keep the conversation between us.

With fans on my side and press on his, I blamed the lack of air on the crowd and definitely not on the way Diego’s eyes raked up my body. Or the way his lips hitched up in a grin that electrified my entire body. Or the way he smelled like turf and sweat and I had to do everything in my power not to lick him for a live audience.

“It’s hard to have a bad game when my favorite good luck charm is in the stands.” His hand snaked to the back of my neck, his forehead resting against mine.

“Are you trying to flatter me into coming to more games?” I pressed my palm to his shoulder, disappointed when I hit unyielding shoulder pads.

“Among other things.” He tilted his head, and his lips brushed mine with each word, leaving me dizzy and oblivious to the people around us. He exhaled, body relaxing as his lips slanted against mine.

His tongue glanced along the seam of my lips, urging them open as he tilted his head. The hand against my neck slid up my throat, cupping my cheek in a way that made me feel precious and wanted all at once. And then he pulled away. “Head back to my place, okay? I’ll order dinner and meet you there as soon as I can get away.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as the temporary lust bubble that seemed to surround us popped and the outside world came rushing back in.

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