Page 19 of Perfect Score

“You got it,” Phoebe cuts me off, assuring me instantly. “David can’t keep a secret, so I won’t tell him. It will just be the three of us.”

I can’t risk David accidentally saying something to ruin my plan to make Liam jealous.

If Liam finds out that I’m faking a relationship with Brent to get him back, I can only imagine he’ll find that incredibly pathetic. Mostly because, I think it’s a little pathetic myself. But I’m desperate to try.

“Thanks, see you soon,” I tell her, and then hang up.

"Hey, Brent," I say, covering the phone's receiver.

He glances over his shoulder.

I nod toward the bathroom. "Can I change really quickly before we leave? I'll have a heat stroke in all these clothes."

We both know I'm exaggerating but I will be a sweaty mess if I don't get into something cooler.

Brent stops the cart and checks one of the clocks on the wall in the terminal. "Can you make it fast? We'll miss drinks if we don't hurry."

I nod, wanting to get there as soon as possible too so I can clean up, but Brent seems to always look good no matter what. Even after sweating through a game, bloody noses, knocked outteeth and black eyes… I've seen Brent at his worst after a brutal game and he's still good looking.

I swear the man doesn't know what a bad hair day looks like.

I've seen social media pictures of him perfectly styled in a suit at a movie premiere with a model he was only ever seen with once, and I've seen him completely disheveled with sweat and blood soaked into his jersey.

Both totally work for him.

Jerk.

"Yeah, I'll be quick," I assure him, grabbing my clothing bag off the cart, along with my purse, and head for the bathroom.

"To save time, I'll grab the car and meet you up front in the terminal," he suggests, eying the sign for the arrow pointing toward the direction of the rental cars.

"That's a good idea, thanks," I tell him, grabbing for the cart, but he doesn't take his hand off of it.

"I'll take it with me, you just do what you need to, and I'll load everything up."

"Okay," I hesitate. He's offering to take care of everything, and I feel like I should insist against it, but I don't. We do need to move quickly, and this will help. "Thanks."

He turns and heads in the direction of the rental cars, pulling all my things with him, minus one bag that I need with my clothes and deodorant in it.

I don't allow myself to think any longer about it.

I head for the bathroom and get to work.

One wet paper towel rubdown, a small dab of makeup, and a thick coat of deodorant, I feel mostly refreshed. A pair of straight leg jeans, chunky heels and a tank top, and now at least if there's a run in with Liam, I look presentable.

My phone vibrates on the long bathroom countertop. I lift it to find a text from Brent.

Brent: I'm out front.

That was faster than I expected and with the cocktail hour starting soon, we need to get moving. I might even owe Brent a 'thank you' for taking care of the car rental and my luggage so that I could freshen up.

I head for the double doors, staring down at my phone, reading a text from my mother asking if I got in okay. The glass double doors slide open to the outside, the rush of air swooshing around me as I exit the airport.

Then I hear them before I even notice the gaggle of women surrounding Brent. High pitched chatter and laughter from women and their luggage, all clambering to get Brent's attention, grabbing at his biceps while giggling, flipping their hair with obvious effort, cell phones flashing all around him, enough burst of light to cause a seizure.

I remember the girls in high school giving Brent attention, but this? … This is on a whole different level.

The puck bunnies have ascended.

---