Page 87 of Faking It with the Forward

He looks down at me, and there’s real confusion etched on his face. I give him a pleading look and he relents, “We need a minute.”

“Go for it,” Brent says, then waves over the waitress. “Can I add a slice of pie?”

Reese’s gait is agitated as I follow him out of the diner door and back into the parking lot. Once we’re outside his fingers thread through mine and he drags me around the side of the building.

“You’re not seriously considering this are you?” he asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Considering what? Keeping the secret we’ve been hiding for weeks now? Which has been for a very specific reason.” My voice bounces off the brick wall of the building. “Or not going to the police which is exactly what Nadia wants?”

His jaw tightens and his gray eyes blaze. I expect an argument, but I sure as hell don’t anticipate what comes next.

“Even before he asked to meet up, I was ready to figure out how to go public. I want to be with you, Twyler. All of you, all the time. I want you to be my girlfriend.” His hand rests on my shoulder and he gently slides it up my neck. A reminder of how sweet he was to me last night—how careful he was with my fears. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, not back behind some shitty truck stop diner, but…” he swallows, “I love you, Twy. And I’m not willing to let anyone else dictate this relationship any longer. Especially not a fucking asshole like Reynolds.”

I blink. “What did you say?”

“I love you.” His hand cups my cheek. “And I’m ready to go public—fuck the consequences.”

A flood of emotions runs through me. Happiness? Yeah, I mean, this incredible, sexy, supportive man just declared his love for me, but… fuck, there’s something else, this nagging self-doubt that’s so hard to shake. He loves me now? Now that he’s toe-to-toe with another alpha jock? Someone is walking out of here a winner, and I know Reese hates to lose.

“Do not get lost in your head, Sunshine. Push whatever negative thoughts are invading your brain aside. I’m serious.” He pulls me forward and places a kiss on my forehead. “I love you and you don’t have to say it back, but it’s been on my mind to say since I realized you were the most kick-ass girl I’ve ever met, and I don’t want to ever let you go.”

I want the whole goddamn world to know you’re mine.

“I don’t want to let you go either,” I say, a rush of conflicting endorphins running through me. “I love you too.”

“Thank Jesus.” He lifts me up and kisses me on the mouth. There’s no reason for this kiss to feel different from the last but it does. When we pull apart he asks, “Does that mean I get to tell that asshole to go fuck himself?”

I grimace, nose wrinkling, and feel him stiffen.

“Can we wait?” I ask.

He lowers me to the ground. “Wait for what? You know we can’t hide this forever.”

“I know.” He’s right. Every day it gets harder to sneak around, and as long as anyone knows, we’re at risk of being exposed. “I just don’t want Brent Reynolds to be the one that pushes me into talking to Green.”

“So you want to make a deal with him?” he asks warily.

“No. I just… I want to do this on my terms.” I squeeze his hand. “What he’s doing to us is no different from the bullshit he’s been pulling on girls like Nadia. Forcing women into compromising positions and making us risk our reputations if we don’t play by his shitty, manipulative rules.”

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right.”

“Make the deal,” I tell him, “but it’s only temporary. I want to tell Coach Green because I want to come clean too. I hate lying to everyone and I really hate sneaking around. We’re not doing anything wrong. But I also don’t think that buying us a little time is a bad thing. It’ll force him to take and keep the videos down, and in the meantime, we can work on Nadia to make the report.”

“And you’ll tell Green?” The muscle at the back of his jaw tenses. “Because I’m serious, Twy, I’m tired of hiding this.”

I nod.

It’s time to come clean, but not without a little ammunition of my own.

* * *

Two, long, anxiety-filled days pass before Professor Purvi is available to meet with me during office hours. But now that I’m sitting across from my advisor, that urge to bolt is strong. What if she tells me something I don’t want to hear? Or I have to make a decision between my internship and Reese?

I hate feeling out of control, and everything about this situation feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.

Professor Purvi flips through a thick file of papers on her desk—the standards and rules for working as an intern. She pushes her long, dark hair over her shoulder and closes the file. “I’ve triple-checked the criteria and there’s nothing in here that says it’s against the standards of your internship to date a player.”

“You’re sure?”

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