Page 17 of The Quarterback Sneak

He knows how much I gave up to be here but also how much I’ve gained from the opportunity. No D1 college would even be looking at me without the notoriety of South Point, and I certainly wouldn’t already have an offer from St. Michael’s without it.

Giving Coach a small smile in acknowledgment, I walk to the tunnel that leads to the home locker room.

“Zach!” Her voice makes me stop, and when I turn to see Honey looking all kinds of flustered—and hot—as she storms her way toward me, students watch us with interest when she pushes through them, probably surprised she knows my name. Slinking under the railing, she hops onto the field and takes a minute to ground herself because her heels sink into the turf.

Who wears designer heels to a high school football game?

Putting her out of her misery, I take a few steps closer so she doesn’t have to try balancing on those spikes. “Everything okay, Honey?” I ask, holding my hands out so she can brace herself on me instead of relying on her clearly terrible balance.

Without thinking, she takes my hands, sliding our palms together as she stands. This time, she looks less like a fawn and more like a racehorse as her back straightens and shoulders square. However impractically dressed she is tonight, I can’t deny that she came here to impress. Her hair is bouncy and flowing like a Miss America contestant and she’s cut the bottom of Jamie’s jersey off so that her flat, toned stomach is on full display. The girl looks hot, and I’m sure Jamie has noticed. It’s not like he has anything else to concentrate on from the bench.

“Yeah.” She opens her mouth wide with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I was just hoping we could, you know, talk.” She raises her eyebrows, and the implication is clear. She wants to talk about my proposal from the other night.

Leaning in, I whisper beside her ear, “Not here.” Catching her eye, I point at the other students already taking notice of our closeness. As I wrap my hands around her slim midriff, her smooth skin pebbles under my touch.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screeches, trying to swat me away.

“Relax, Boo. Just taking you somewhere more private.” I lift her, carrying her toward the large concrete tunnel leading to the locker room. The game is over, but the team is still celebrating,so it’s as private and quiet as we will get tonight, and this is something we need to talk about now. I can’t have her thinking anymore about the bet and putting herself off the idea of fake dating again.

She lets out a few disgruntled breaths as I gently place her on the ground in the tunnel. Red-faced and a little flustered, she adjusts her outfit to make sure she looks okay. “What’s up?” I ask, watching the space between that shirt and her jeans a little too closely.

“The bet. It’s real, isn’t it?” Her eyes dart in every direction, never landing on me.

I nod slowly, giving her time to register the movement. “Yes. I don’t lie. I was a Boy Scout.” I raise my hand in a three-finger salute, and she rolls her eyes, lolling her head back to rest on the concrete wall. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have bothered you if the bet wasn’t real.”

“Why do you want to do it?”

“Fake date?” I ask, and she nods. Fair question, one I thought I answered before, but I’ll reiterate. “The money. It could change my family’s life.”

“Aren’t you already committed to a full-ride scholarship at St. Michael’s?”

My eyebrows lift. “Keeping tabs on me, Sanderson?”

She crosses her arms, and her hip pops, showcasing more of her stomach.Focus, Zach. Eyes on hers.“It’s hard not to when it’s rammed down my throat on a daily basis. My family has a building named after them there. I’ll be going there too, whether I like it or not.”

“Great,” I drawl. “Happy to know there will be a friendly face,” I say through gritted teeth, slightly annoyed anyone from this life might be there when I move on. I wanted a fresh start for Tiffany, Ella, and me, but that’s hard to do when there are strings of the past tying me down. At least it’s a big campus; thelikelihood of seeing her would be minimal. “St. Michael’s is still a year away, and any endorsement deals probably won’t come through until I’m a sophomore. Hard to believe, but I could use some of that cash now. Lord knows I’ll use it on something worthy instead of the stupid shit Jamie would buy.”

“So that’s it? It’s all about the money to you?”

I purse my lips, contemplating for a moment. “And knocking those assholes down a peg or two.”

“But they’re your teammates.”

“And they’ll still be my teammates when we win this bet. Doesn’t mean they don’t need a reality check every now and again and to be reminded that money doesn’t buy you everything.” My gaze drifts down her lithe body, noting the curves at her hips and chest.

Biting her bottom lip, she closes her eyes. “I want in,” she blurts, opening her eyes.

“Say that again?”

“I want to fake date you.” Her words come out, but my brain is too busy having a mild explosion to take them in. Is she actually agreeing to this? To not only help herself but to help me.

“What made you change your mind?”

Her head turns, and she watches the team celebrate their win on the field. No doubt, Jamie is there in the center, lapping up all the attention even though he didn’t play in a second of the game. She huffs out a saddened breath. “I just don’t want Jamie to win. He doesn’t deserve to treat me like a piece of shit and then get paid for it. He’s like my parents. They all treat me like a commodity, and I’m tired of it.”

“Isn’t me asking you to fake date me also treating you like a commodity?” She whips her head back in my direction.

“No. You’re the only person who’s spoken to me like an adult capable of making her own decisions. You asked me what Iwanted and waited for me to decide for myself. You didn’t tell me what I was going to do.”

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