Page 41 of The Fake Out

I gave Linc a hard time a lot, but at the moment, I truly felt the depth of our friendship. The man definitely had my back.

“I don’t care if a wasp landed on him. Hell, even if it had stung him, the guy should be professional and not flinch half my hair away.”

With a hand to my mouth, I coughed to keep myself from laughing. The man could not pull off a buzz cut. I’d always said he was pretty, but now it was more pretty awkward.

“What are you doing here?” Jake snapped after a long beat where I just stood, trying not to giggle.

I took a breath, steadying myself, and lowered my hand. “Emerson had a ticket, so instead of sitting with you, I’m sitting with him and his friends.”

“Emerson?” He squinted as he repeated the name, like he had no idea who I was talking about. But my brother was always talking about his best friend. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize the name. Actually, there was. Jake probably didn’t bother to pay attention when Chris was speaking. That was on-brand for the asshole.

“Emerson, my brother’s”—this was where I should have lied, but the idea of labeling Emerson as mine in any way, shape, or form made my stomach flip. Not because I thought Jake would care, but because I cared—“friend.”

“Emerson Knight, number twenty-one, the Revs’ third baseman?” His voice went up at the end, and he glared across the room.

I followed his line of sight and found Emerson watching us with a tentative look on his face. I gave him a nod, silently signaling that I was okay, then I turned back to my ex.

“Yeah.”

Libby shifted and crossed her arms over her black dress. “I need to sit. My feet are starting to hurt.” Her whiny tone dug into my eardrums. How the hell could Jake stand to listen to her talk regularly?

“Go sit, baby. I’ll be right there.” He dropped his arm from around her shoulders and pressed a hand to her back like he was gently urging her to move.

“Fine,” she huffed, stomping off.

Jake watched her go for a moment, then turned back to me, giving me a once-over. He paused his perusal at the square neckline of my dress, then worked his way down to my hips and back up again.

I knew the look. It was full of interest. I’d seen it from him plenty of times, but at the moment it just felt gross. Arms crossed, I donned my armor and narrowed my eyes at him.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and hit me with a smarmy smirk. “Thought you were dating someone.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Emerson.” The lie was so much easier now that I was pissed. “We’ve been dating for a couple of weeks.”

In response to my admission, the man fucking laughed. He full-on belly laughed for a solid thirty seconds before finally getting himself under control. “Funny, Gigi.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes and chuckled again. “There is no way. Guy like him could have anyone. No way he picks someone”—he waved a hand up and down, gesturing to my body—“like you.”

My first instinct was to explode on him, but I tempered my response. Honestly, I could see his point. Emerson was a famous baseball player, and women threw themselves at him daily. Me? I was an average Jill.

Annoyance flared inside me. Putting myself down wasn’t something I really ever did. I was pretty and loved my curves, but Emerson…

I turned, feeling his attention still on me. Green eyes seared my skin, so full of concern, and one eyebrow lifted in a silent question. Are you okay? I was. I didn’t need to be rescued. Pride, or maybe self-perseveration, had my mouth moving.

“We’ve been friends for a long time.” I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, if I hadn’t been with you?—”

Jake’s mouth turned down.

“It probably would have happened sooner.”

The scoff that left him was full of disbelief. “Or you’re pretending so you don’t look stupid or have to admit you can’t get over us.”

That statement fueled the fire that had been missing. Over him? The idea that I wasn’t was laughable.

“Are you kidding me?” I ground out. “I couldn’t give a single fuck what you think. Get over yourself. I certainly have.”

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