Page 26 of Faking the Face Off

“Are they always this aggressive?” I ask, slamming my door shut.

“No,” he replies.

“It feels like more than just the local River City paper out there.”

“Because it is.” Ollie taps his window, pointing to a photographer on the other side of the lot, taking aim at us. “I know that one. That guy is from that magazine,Athletic Edge.”

“This feels more than what I was told it would be,” I mutter as Ollie starts the car, shifts into gear, and peels out of the lot just as the photographers reach the edge of the row.

I glance out the back window, watching the figures grow smaller as we pull away. “Did we actually just do that?”

“Looks like we did.” Ollie laughs, his hands steady on the wheel as he merges onto the road.

The adrenaline coursing through me turns into giddy laughter, and I can’t help but join in. “We’re ridiculous.”

“We’re effective,” he counters, casting a sideways glance at me. “You think they got enough pictures?”

“Oh, definitely. If hashtag OllieAnna wasn’t already trending, it will be now.” I sink into my seat, catching my breath. “So…do you think any of your teammates will suspect us?”

He exhales, his laughter fading. “Dixon might. He’s been side-eyeing me ever since that post went up.”

“Dixon,” I repeat, considering. “Do you think we should tell him? It might help to have someone else in the loop.”

Ollie drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe. Dixon’s around a lot. If anyone’s going to figure it out, it’s him.”

“Well, better Dixon than Ben,” I say quickly.

“Or your dad,” Ollie adds.

I groan, covering my face with my hands. “What have I gotten us into?”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Ollie says, his hand finding my knee in the darkness and giving it a comforting squeeze. “The one person in this who is completely innocent is you. You’re literally helping me and your father.”

“Me and karma vibe like that,” I say, trying to make another joke of it all, but also wanting to find a way to reconcile my actions. Mental note: make appointment with therapist. Stat.

The ride settles into a comfortable quiet after that, the rush of the night finally ebbing away. Before I know it, we’re pulling up to my place, the porch light glowing softly against the night.

Ollie shifts the car into park and leans back, one hand still on the wheel. “Well, we survived night one of the great fake relationship experiment.”

“Barely,” I tease, unbuckling my seatbelt. “But yeah, we did it.”

For a moment, we just sit there, the easy silence stretching between us. It’s the kind of quiet that feels like a truce, like we’re in this together, even if it’s just for show.

“Thanks for tonight,” I say, turning to him.

He shrugs, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Anytime, Banana.”

I roll my eyes hearing him use his old nickname for me, but can’t help grinning as I open the door and step out. “Night, Ollie.”

I close the door behind me and head up the steps, but I pause before going inside, glancing back at his car. He’s still there, as usual, watching to make sure I get in okay.

I lift a hand in a small wave, and he returns it before pulling away. The taillights of his car disappear down the street, and I linger on the porch for a moment, the night air cool against my skin, my heart still beating a little too fast.

This is supposed to be simple—a business arrangement wrapped in a layer of convenience. But as I step into my house, shutting the door behind me, I can’t help but smile.

Ollie is more than I was counting on. More steady, more thoughtful. More dangerous in a way I didn’t see coming. Dangerous to the carefully constructed walls I’ve built, the onesI promised I wouldn’t let anyone chip away at—at least not right now. He could be someone I fall for if I let myself. That thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels like a spark, flaring somewhere deep in my chest.

“Anna, you home?”

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