Page 18 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

Chapter Seven

Taylor

Opening my eyes, I saw the sun was just beginning to rise, and I pushed up to sit in my bed. Glancing at the window, I could see the roof of Van’s house next door and sighed.

It’s been a few days since we walked along the trail, talked, and had ice cream. The same day that our little hometown gossip spread like wildfire about our relationship.

“Or whatever it is,” I winced.

As much as I wished things were real, I knew deep down Van was just saving my reputation, and perhaps keeping the peace with Hunter, his best friend, for as long as I’ve been alive, but either way, I wished Van had true feelings for me.

Ever since I was a gawky pre-teen, I daydreamed about being with Van. When he went away to college, and I was crying inGram’s living room, everyone assumed it was because Hunter was also leaving for college. I never let on to anyone that the tears were meant for Van.

Gram knew better, though. Later that evening, all those years ago, she asked me if it was more than missing my brother. When I began to deny the accusation, she shook her head and told me not to lie.

I broke down and cried on her shoulder for a while before confessing that I was crying over Van. She calmed me down and used her soothing voice to tell me thatfirst lovesare the hardest to get over and that someday, maybe things would change, and I’d have a happily ever after.

Just hearing Gram say that made me cry more. I never thought Van would see me for more than I was. To Van, I think I was his best friend’s little sister and someone he grew up with. That pain in the butt next-door neighbor girl who always followed her brother and his best friend everywhere. He would never see me as more than the girl next door, or someone he’d have a romantic interest in.

All this, I frowned, as I said a million times since the ice cream shop visit, whatever this is, was nothing more than Van being a gentleman, and saving grace. Maybe he was even keeping his reputation.

That thought had crossed my mind several times as I readied for bed last night, and I couldn’t shake it. Van was a known ladies’ man, as seen in all the newspaper, tabloid articles, and pictures on social media websites.

Van’s face was plastered all over, everywhere.

I’d hear his name on all the sports shows. He’d been named Rookie of the Year, and his face was on every newspaper, magazine, and city bus advertisement that drove down my street back in the city.

It felt as if Van Willis was mocking me.

And I blame Van for my engagement to Travis.

Yes, I said it. I blame Van for all of it.

The night Travis proposed to me, I’d been sitting at a chair in the Mastro’s Steakhousefacing the street when a city bus slowed down, and I saw Van’s smiling face staring at me.

The dimple on the left side of his cheek, and the added sparkle to one of his teeth caught me. I was mesmerized by Van’s milk chocolate brown eyes and lost in how he seemed to be gazing right back at me.

The advertisement so entranced me, and Van’s face that I didn’t hear Travis’ first proposal. When I glanced at Travis, he was sitting with an opened ring box in his hands, and a beautiful emerald ring gathering the lighting from the restaurant and shining at me.

Travis had an unusual goofy grin, as if he was waiting for me to say something. The first thing that came to my mind was an affirmation.

“Yes?” I spoke, more of a question than a statement, but Travis took that three-letter word as an answer.

So, yes. I blame Van for that.

I backpedaled and wanted to tell Travis it was a misunderstanding, but before I could formulate the words, the kitchen door swung open. Travis’ family, some of our mutual friends, and a few close co-workers piled out.

They were hollering and clapping and began congratulating us. I gasped and never came up with the mistake.

Yes, it was a mistake.

I enjoyed dating Travis. We had fun together, but I wasn’t in love with him—not even close.

Closing my eyes, I flopped back in my bed and groaned. I went from the proverbial flame into the frying pan. From Travis to Van.Was I better off?

Before I could answer the question, my cell phone jingled on the nightstand. Reaching over, I opened my eyes and swiped the phone screen to open the message.

It was from Hunter. He wanted to come by later, and I messaged him back, saying I’d make dinner and we could eat out on the back deck. He agreed, so I decided I should get out of bed and head to the grocery store, as I knew I was limited with what food I had in the house.

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