Page 30 of Pump Fake

“I understand. I won’t let you down, Coach.” In football, I wouldn’t. So far, with everything else, I was.

“Fights won’t be tolerated. Next incident you’re benched.”

Pain shot through my jaw from how tightly I clenched my teeth. I managed another nod, acknowledging his warning.

“Invites will be here sooner than you think, and I want to be able to send you to the combine. Keep that in mind, son.”

“I’ll get it together.” And I would. I wouldn’t throw my future away because Matthews pressed my buttons.

“That’s it, then. I don’t want to see you back here unless it’s good news. Get dressed and head to the field. You’re running suicides along with Matthews.”

I stood, and my phone rang. I recognized the number and glanced at Coach before answering.

“Ares Bellingham?” The voice was authoritative and harsh.

“Yes.” My heart sank.What the hell did Preston do now?

“This is Headmaster Snyder. I have your nephew in the office, and I need you to come in.”

Coach frowned, but I caught the concern in his eyes. I only hoped he understood what I had to do.

“I’ll be right there.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BRIELLE

Off to the side of the room, dripping blue-dyed water on Headmaster Snyder’s oriental rug, I did my best to hide the wet-T-shirt look I sported—thanks to Preston’s prank. I clutched a blanket around myself from Kathy, Snyder’s angel of an administrative assistant. Still, I dripped.

Preston sat in a chair across from the headmaster. I’d ordered him to come with me, getting one of the teacher’s aides to cover my class. Not once did the little punk shoot me a sly look or a smirk.And why is that? Because of the headmaster? Or does he genuinely regret turning me into a Smurf?

After witnessing Ares with Preston, I wanted to be more understanding of his situation, but his latest stunt was too much for me to ignore. Actually, the superglue should have been the last straw, but being a rookie, I’d let it slide—a mistake I wouldn’t make again because I wasn’t getting through to him.

I’d stood silently as the headmaster had lectured Preston. All his crimes—er, pranks—were out in the open. It didn’t look good for him. Part of me worried that I was doing the wrong thing, that everything the kid had done was a cry for help. Ashiver tore through me, and my concern quickly evaporated. He’d ruined two outfits and had caused such classroom chaos that I barely held authority over the students.

When the door to the headmaster’s office opened and Ares walked in, a jolt of that familiar desire at his mere presence rushed through me, creating a confusing mix of emotions. That type of heat wasn’t welcome in my current, lovely situation.And isn’t it great he gets to see me looking like this?I tugged the blanket tighter around myself rather than give in to the urge to drop it and flash him like a jersey chaser on the prowl. The slight movement caused Ares to turn. I grimaced at his wide eyes and raised brows. Yep, I looked lovely.

A slight shake of my head telegraphed what I needed from him—notto call me Brielle. That could be a problem with the headmaster, and I wanted the focus to remain on Preston, not take a sharp turn and point at me as part of the problem. Even with the small exchange, I was impossibly aware of Ares.Why can’t I get him out of my system?We weren’t dating, we weren’t anything—other than incredibly attracted to each other and, since I was trying to be honest with myself, friends. That was something, for the time being. But the benefits part would end.It has to, right?

But do I want it to?The jury was out on that one.

“Mr. Bellingham.” Headmaster Snyder waved in my direction, and my attention snapped back to why I was in the room. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice, but as you can see, we have a problem. Mr. Waters has been quite a disruption in class, and his behavior simply cannot continue.”

Ares rested his hand on Preston’s shoulder. I read it for what it was—a sign of support, unity. The silent motion bred familiarity, something I’d done for Ser against our crazy parents more times than I could count. My shoulders slumped. There had to be a way to get through to Preston. I only hoped thatwhatever punishment the headmaster gave would be the start of it.

As the headmaster droned on about what Preston had been doing in class, I got lost in how broad Ares’s shoulders were. I’d already heard the headmaster’s spiel, so my listening didn’t matter. Or that was what I convinced myself as I shivered about two feet behind Ares. I curled my hands in the blanket to keep from trailing them over his back and feeling the muscles bulge and jump beneath my fingertips—smooth skin over steel. I’d never felt so safe, beautiful, or desired as I did in his arms. He was an obsession I wasn’t sure I could quit.

All good things came to an end, though. I’d learned that firsthand.

“Then we agree.” Headmaster Snyder threaded his fingers together on his large, ornate mahogany desk, and I snapped to attention, recognizing it as his tell before issuing a decree. “Mr. Waters will serve a two-week, out-of-school suspension. During that time, he will come in when Miss Sinclair needs him to help with class preparation or cleanup. He will not participate in football until the suspension is over.”

“What?” Preston jerked in his chair, his gaze shooting up to Ares. “Wait, no. I just got on the team.”

“P, your actions have consequences. How would your mom have felt if she knew you dumped dyed water on Miss Sinclair? Or the glue? Or any of the other pranks you’ve pulled?”

Preston’s head dropped. “But she’s not here.”

My eyes watered, and I had to blink back tears, quickly turning my head to the side before they saw.

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