Page 75 of Dangerous Play

My ears rang as her words sank.

“What do you mean?” I whispered. “You and I came up with the idea together...”

I remembered the night we got drunk on cheap wine after my breakup and plotted ways to get revenge on Ander and teach him a lesson. Kaia said I should date someone he hates. Max was the easiest choice because he was more talented and successful and it killed him.

Kaia shrugged. “I really wanted to be with Tristan. During the summer, we flirted and hooked up once. He said if I wanted to be with him, I would have to convince you to date Maximilian Aarons. I thought it was innocent, you wanted revenge and they wanted you with Max. I don’t know if they expected you to fall for him and be heartbroken, or they wanted him to fall for you and lose focus. Honestly, I didn’t care. I didn’t think you would fall in love with each other and he would...”

“Did you see what they did to Derek? Did you realize Max was up for National Team and got a yellow card for protectinghis friend? You might as well cost him his career. And then we didn’t even tackle the emotional damage that this all cost me. I fell in love with him.”

“But that’s a good thing. He loves you too, he deserves you and I see how he treats you. You finally have that.”

“I don’t think you understand what you did,” I snapped. “You played me. Me! Your best friend.”

“Don’t be mad at me... I did something else.”

“Honestly, I doubt you could have caused any more damage.” I laughed dryly before I realized I spoke way too soon.

My phone vibrated with an incoming message, and I glanced at the photo sent by Max. I assumed it was a picture of Derek or the team or some kind of update.

Instead, when I opened the photo on WhatsApp, it was a screenshot of my conversation with Kaia—the messages where I told her Max agreed to fake date me to get rid of the National Team’s manipulative bitch of a daughter and to help him get on the team if she couldn’t spread lies about him.

Reading my own words, which I had typed in the heat of the moment, mortified me months later. I should have never said such things in writing; I should have known better. It was easy to hack and read conversations, and it was even easier if your best friend screenshotted them and sent them.

“Tell me they hacked you and you didn’t just...” I looked up at her, but the way she bit her lower lip to stop herself from allowing the tears to spill from her eyes was enough confirmation. “I can’t believe you. How could you... after everything.”

“Tristan said I had to earn his forgiveness.”

“Huh, you deserve each other.” I was at a loss for words. How could my best friend, the only friend I ever had, pull this shit on me?

“Ivy, come on... you would have done it if Ander asked you.”

I was halfway out the door when her words stopped me in my tracks. I had to hand it to her—yes, I would have done whatever Ander asked of me. Blindly, without questions. But I was no longer that girl. I was no longer lost, self-conscious, and scared. Max showed me what real love was, how a guy should treat a girl, and what my expectations should be. I rediscovered myself and learned so much in these past few months, all because of Max. And while I walked away a better person from this arrangement, Max’s life was left in pieces. All because of me.

“Yes, I would have. But I’m not her anymore.”

“Ivy...” Kaia’s pleading voice echoed as I exited into the hallway. I left her, our friendship and the old Ivy behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MAX

I was goingdown in history as the worst captain of Hillview University. If there was an award for that, I’d win it hands down.

Rubbing my throbbing temple, I looked up at Coach Parker, Coach McCarthy, my parents and my manager, who were all very concerned and condescending over the news blowing up. We were gathered in the small meeting room of the sports center and they’d been hammering me with annoying attention and ideas for the better part of the morning. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and join my team on the field for our afternoon practice.

It was safe to say the National Team never called me, despite my stats and achievements as a soccer player. I think trashing Thalia, even if it didn’t come directly from me, was something the Coach was never going to get over. And it was all my fault.

I used those exact words, even if she typed them.

Everything I had planned carefully and built over the past couple of months came crumbling down.

I knew this was a dangerous play.

“Disappointed doesn’t begin to cover how we feel,” my dad informed, as if I cared about his opinion.

I glanced at Coach McCarthy with a pleading look, wanting to be out of this room as soon as possible as they discussed what damage control could be done and what were the possibilities moving forward.

A public apology and acknowledgment were already posted and pinned to all my social media accounts.

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