Page 3 of Pump Fake

Once in the locker room, I dressed in my practice uniform, ignoring my teammates. After that, I got taped up and headed to the field. I didn’t respond to Kylian’s and Liam’s questions, putting them off until later. All I cared about was getting to work. And I did. I became a machine on the field, winning drills, catching passes, breaking tackles, and running the ball into the end zone. I blocked for teammates and kicked ass.

I wouldn’t let anything, even my emotions, detract from the game. If anything, I used them. It wasn’t a foreign place to channel my feelings. I’d done it with my helplessness and grief after my older sister died. I would get through my newest challenge too.

Kylian, Liam, and I made magic happen. Our dynamic was intuitive. And the day’s practice helped alleviate the worst of my stress. We filed off the field and changed, then the three of us headed to dinner at the athletics cafeteria on campus since Aurora was out with Kylian’s mom, Evalyn. We sat at a table in the corner for a semblance of privacy.

“What happened with Coach?” Kylian asked as he set down his tray and joined Liam and me.

I was surprised Kylian and Liam had waited to push me for answers. “Remember that girl I took back to my room during spring break?”

“Which one?” Liam laughed.

“The redhead. And it’s not fucking funny,” I growled.

Liam held up his hands, palms facing us. “Sorry, man. But it was about time you let loose. You hadn’t done that since our first year.”

“It’s pretty tough to live your life”—Kylian shoved Liam—“when we barely have personal time.”

“I still don’t know how you managed to find time to date Aurora before she moved in with us.” It blew my mind.Date?Icould barely juggle football, school, and family as it was. And with Coach’s demands, I had to figure out a way to make that happen.

“Probably because he’s a fucking genius and doesn’t need to go to athletic tutoring like the majority of us,” Liam grumbled before taking a bite of his apple.

“Stop exaggerating.” Kylian shook his head. “And if you would make it in time for your business management class, you wouldn’t need tutoring.”

“Whatever.” Liam glared at Kylian before returning his focus to me. “So, what did Coach want?”

“The redhead uploaded a video of us from that night to a paywall on OnlyFans.”

“Fuuuuck.” Liam dropped the apple then grabbed his phone.

“That sucks, but Coach can’t be too angry with you. It wasn’t planned or your fault,” Kylian said.

“Found it.” Liam held up the phone for us to see.

Kylian frowned. “IT should’ve taken that down already. What’s the holdup?”

“I have no idea, but it’s a problem, and Coach is furious with me, as are the boosters and the university. I was told I can’t make any more mistakes and that I should be more like Kylian.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kylian asked.

“I need a serious girlfriend.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Liam put down the phone after closing the video. “About the girlfriend, and you can’t be blamed for this. We’ll just make the girls check their phones at the door next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” I raked my hand through my hair. “I can’t trust any girl who comes up to me. You were lucky with Aurora, Kyl. The girls Liam and I meet are after us because we’re rumored to be going into the NFL. I hate it. Everyone wants a piece of me, and I’m so tired of it.”

My phone rang. I checked the caller ID and saw it was mymom. My point to the guys about being spread too thin hit home even harder, regardless of wanting to help with my family situation. I was just so exhausted.

I answered, but I already knew it wouldn’t be good news. And I suspected a decent night’s sleep would no longer be in the cards. “Hey, Mom. Everything okay?”

“Hi, Ares. Ah, not really. I hate to ask you this, but I’m at my wit’s end. Preston has been out late again, and I need help finding him.”

“On my way.” I hung up, gave the guys a quick explanation, and headed out to track down my troublemaker nephew. It was only Monday night, which didn’t bode well for Preston’s track record or my sanity for the rest of the week.

CHAPTER THREE

BRIELLE

Idropped my head onto my arm, the phone pressed against my ear. It was early Thursday morning, and I was supposed to substitute teach for a professor who’d called in sick at Linwood Prep, a K-12 all-boys fancy school with boarding options for the swankiest students in Chicago. My sister went to its sister school, Carrington Girls’ School, and thankfully, she was allowed to finish her final year since tuition for the entire four years had been prepaid before dear old Dad had gone to white-collar jail.

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