Page 70 of Out of Bounds

"No. We can’t."

"But he’shot."

I sighed. Couldn’t argue with that.

"He’ssweet," Zariah added, like she was trying to sell me my own fake boyfriend.

"When he wants to be." A grin crossed my face, thinking about practice just a couple of hours ago. "You didn’t see how many times he made Adam run around the track when he accidentally set off firecrackers for a prank."

"Kass." Zariah stretched back in her seat. "Do youknowhow much football baby mamas make?"

My mouth fell open and I shut it just as fast.

"It’s a lucrative job!"

"Oh my god." I ignored that little voice at the back of my head, purring at the thought. "Z, you’re forgetting a couple of things here." When she tried to talk over me, I shook my head. "One, I signed a contractnotto fuck him. And that’s a pretty important step to having his kids. Don’t look at me like that. Two, I’m leaving at the end of the semester. And three…three…"

Shit. What is three?

"He’s got ahugetongue," Zariah answered for me.

I gave her a hard look. "Three,we’re just not…compatible. I want someone I can draw with. Someone whocreatesthings. All of this is so important to me and I need someone who sees it like that too. Ryan’s idea of art is the Xs and Os on a football playbook. I’mnothaving his kids."

"There’s…other waysyou can be compatible…legs apart kind of compatibility…"

"Uh-huh." I rolled my eyes. "You want to be a screenwriter. Would you get serious with a guy who didn’t give a shit about movies?"

Zariah was quiet for a long moment, and when I got her attention again, she had to admit defeat. That lasted only a minute before her curls bounced as she perked up again.

"I didn’t saymarryhim, I said have his baby—"

"That’s definitely her," a voice carried over the classroom. Five guys stood by the door frame, clearly not art students. The stiff suits were a dead giveaway. The combed-back, slick hair was another.

Four of them made quick time over to us except a single guy who kept his distance. "I’m not getting close, bro." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I like Marrs Manwhore parties."

I shifted back to Zariah. "Please tell me they’re here for you."

"Five attractive men? Wow, I wish."

The first guy dragged a chair to me and flipped it around, sitting on it backward. "You’re Ryan Cross’s girlfriend. You’re Kassie." He drew back for a second. "And I’m not touching you. That’s against the rules, I get it."

"I hope you’re not going around, touching random people," I shot back.

"I’m full KYU support," he said, linking together words that meant absolutely nothing to me. "Oklahoma blood. But there’s a wager if Ryan’s going for the draft and we’re talking about alotof money on the line. I’m willing to make you a lucrative offer. I just want to know if Ryan’s going for the draft and you’ll gethalf."

His other finance dorks crept close, trying to smile encouragingly at me. A pack of wolves.

I couldn’t keep the look of disgust off my face if I wanted to. Since I’d become Ryan’s fake girlfriend, it was insane to think about the amount of people who came up to demand information about him or make weirdo comments or just trash-talk the team.

"Half," one of the guys repeated.

"I’m so lucky.Half?" The edge was back in my voice. "What a great proposal. I’m overwhelmed."

Every cell in my body wanted to tell them a flat no—of course Ryan isn’t going for the draft—so they could lose all of daddy’smoney. They didn’t even give a shit about him or the Romans. They just wanted to make a buck. The look on their faces would be priceless alone when they saw their bank accounts, after Ryan’s declaration for the draft.

Telling them to put their money up would be hilarious.

Except, I could clearly hear Ryan’s words, low and throaty, telling me that people could be recording and all that.

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