Page 31 of Pump Fake

“Headmaster Snyder, my mom works while Preston is at school. She might not be able to take a full two weeks off. Would it be possible to do the second week as an in-school suspension?”

Silence stretched, and I met the headmaster’s cold gray eyes. I gave a slight nod, knowing I would be responsible for findingextra things for Preston to do during that time, aside from his usual workload.

After approval for the schedule change, the three of us filed out of Headmaster Snyder’s office. Preston walked in front of us, and heat rolled off Ares as we walked down the mostly empty hall. It was freezing in the academy, thanks to being wet, and I wanted to inch closer to him, share his heat, and let him tuck me protectively into his side. I shook my head.What is happening to me?

“Preston.” Ares halted his nephew. “You’re forgetting something.”

I stopped when they did, Preston half turning toward me, his ordinarily expressive face slack with misery I never wanted to see.

“I’m sorry, Miss Sinclair. It won’t happen again.”

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. I wanted to say so many things, but maybe… “I get why you’ve been acting out, but it’s still not okay.”

His lips quivered, and he pressed them into a tight line, demolishing my resolve to be strict. I wanted to tell him that the cost to my wardrobe was a hard hit, but I didn’t want to lay that on their shoulders.

“I know you’ll make it up to me. Let’s put it behind us and move forward.”

Preston nodded then shot Ares a look. “Can we go now?”

“Not until you talk to your coach. I’ll wait for you by the car.”

Horror widened Preston’s eyes. “What? No. Uncle Ares, come on. The headmaster will tell him.”

“Part of being on the team is being responsible for your actions.” Ares’s voice was soft, patient.

“But everyone will be there,” Preston complained.

“You should have thought of that before you did what you did.”

“Ahh,” Preston groaned but pivoted toward the locker rooms.

“All right, let’s see what the fuck he did to your clothes this time.” Ares grasped the edges of the blanket I’d pinched together and gently drew them back. “Damn, Brielle.”

My lips twitched. “It wasn’t funny then, but it kind of is now. It’s like I entered a frat party’s wet-T-shirt contest all over again.”

His brows climbed his forehead, and he closed the blanket’s edges as a student rounded the corner farther down the hallway. “You participated in a lot of those?”

I snorted a laugh. “Once. And I was so drunk I spent the night praying to the porcelain god, with my roommate holding my hair. I’d hoped to never relive the experience, but hey, at least this time, I don’t have a hangover.”

He grunted before settling his hand on the small of my back, directing me toward the exit and where our cars waited.

“I’m sorry, Brie. I thought the last time I talked to Preston had gotten through.”

“Getting shut out of football seemed to hit home. There’s hope.” I flashed him an optimistic smile I didn’t entirely feel. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“Yeah, I try to be there when Mom can’t. It’s been… hard on her—all the rebelling P’s done over the past two years.”

“I can’t imagine. Will you get in trouble with your coach?” It had to be at the start of his practice, or maybe even into it already.

He ran his hand through dark-blond hair, rumpling it in that sexy way that drove me crazy. My fingers twitched, and I squeezed them tighter in the plush fleece blanket to stop them from reaching up and smoothing a few of the strands back into place.

“About that…”

I shot him a quizzical glance. “About what?”

“Remember that favor you owe me?”

Oh, no.Does he want me to try to get Preston out of the football suspension?I couldn’t convince the strict headmaster to do anything. He barely tolerated my presence as it was. “Yeah…?”

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