Page 59 of Hard to Fake

“Probably. She leaves every time.” She shifts forward, eyes dancing with mischief. “So, how exactly does this fake date thing work? You sleep in the same bed, slather on the PDA for your adoring public, and make up nicknames for each other?”

“I’ve requested two beds, the goal is adoring looks and the occasional forehead kiss, and technically, he already has a nickname for me,” I state, and Nova gasps.

“What does he call you?”

“Princess. It’s bullshit, and I’m going for snacks,” I add before she can comment.

I leave the box and find myself wandering into the main hallway packed with fans.

Normally, I don’t notice what everyone is wearing—it’s a sea of purple and yellow—but tonight, it’s as if all I see are Miles jerseys.

Especially on women, I notice as I head toward the concession stands.

I find myself in line behind a group of women a few years older.

“Who’s the hottest?” one says to another.

"Clay."

"No way. It's Miles. I’d bang him any day.”

I stare holes in the back of her jersey as the girls order their food and head toward their seats.

I order a beer and two bags of popcorn, which I have to juggle on the way back. The Kodiaks store is in my peripheral vision, my attention lingering on his jersey, displayed front and center.

“Ooh, what did you buy?” Nova asks when I reappear next to her, dropping into the seat with my snacks.

The second half starts, and Miles is fire. I love it when he gets what he wants.

They squeak out the win, and the building goes crazy.

I go a little crazy too.

* * *

We’re seeking spokesmodels! Think you have what it takes to rep the brand? Tag us over the next month for your chance at a major collaboration.

The notification from Elise’s company account pops up as I’m heading down to find Miles.

My pulse accelerates.

It’s confirmation that she’s looking for a partnership, but it means everyone else will be applying too.

I need to stay focused on my mission.

When I get to the hallway outside the locker room, Miles is leaning against the wall, checking his phone. He’s freshly showered, hair falling across his forehead, dark lashes over lowered eyes as he scans the screen.

It’s worth the crowd of admirers I had to battle just to get to security and wave my VIP pass.

He straightens the moment he spots me.

“You didn't get distracted and hook up with anyone after the game?" I ask, shoving my hands in the pockets of my coat.

He lifts a shoulder. “You either.”

I glance around. “I don’t see a line of people who want to fuck me tonight.”

“Because I got rid of them.”

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