Page 15 of The Stunt
“This is insane!” I say to Twyla as we watch the Blizzard defense run out onto the field. The fans are screaming at the top of their lungs, hoping the guys can make a stop here in order towin the game. My dad and brother are huge football fans, so I understand the rules enough to make sense of things. Although, I made a list in my notes app to ask Maverick later on. Honestly, why do they run it up the middle so much when it hardly ever works? And why does the term ‘strip sack’ sound so dirty?
The crowd gets even louder, booing the refs as they call a complete pass when the receiver’s foot was definitely out of bounds. “Booooooo!” I yell with my hands cupped around my mouth. It’s just Twyla and me in the suite, and the glass windows make it impossible to hear me, but I don’t care. Mav knows where I am.
Thankfully, the call is overturned, giving the defense another chance to make the stop. It’s fourth down and there are fifteen seconds left in the game. Tennessee needs eight yards for a first down. The ball is snapped, and Maverick moves quickly, rolling off the blocker. Nothing stands between him and the quarterback, who never sees him coming as he makes the sack. I go nuts, jumping up and down while screaming into the empty room. I’m so proud of him.
Mav pops up, looks directly at me, and points.Well, these panties are going in the trash.Just as Twyla planned, the cameras pan to me, broadcasting my face on the Jumbotron and probably televisions across the country. Looking down at him, I wave before blowing him a kiss.
“That was perfect,” Twyla says quietly as the offense takes the field, kneeling to run the final seconds off the clock. She turns to me. “So, we have a small change of plans.” I listen intently as she continues. “We weren’t expecting the fans to be so interested in you making an appearance here today, but they are. Some managed to slip past security earlier. We got them out, but we feel that it’s unsafe to have you moving around the stadium right now. Maverick is going to go do his post-game stuff, takea shower, and then he’ll come up here. Meanwhile, I’ll get a few reporters that I trust to take photos of the two of you leaving.”
It’s always scary when people get past security, but it’s not nearly as uncommon as I wish it was. I’m sure Carlo and his team are refusing to put me in danger, so we’ll have to make things work up here.
“Okay,” I tell her.
She gives me a thumbs up. “I’m going to go wrangle some paps. I don't know how long it'll take me, so make yourself comfortable in here. Maverick and I are the only ones who are allowed past security, so you won't have to worry about anybody else getting in here. I'll be back as soon as I can.”
When she leaves, I hear the click of the lock engaging before I walk back over to the window. Blizzard fans are mostly filing out toward the exit, and I see some of the maintenance staff beginning to clean up. Looking at the field, I visualize my halftime performance stage. The game isn’t here in Boston, but I’m sure the field in L.A. isn’t much different. I imagine myself running out while the fans scream for me as I sing my opening number. My dancers and I hit every step of our choreography perfectly. I think of Maverick, who will hopefully be playing in the game, wishing he could be watching me as his coach gives a compelling halftime speech. I feed off the energy of the crowd while I sing my heart out because it’s what I love.
I’m pulled from my daydream when I hear a soft beep, followed by the lock on the door clicking. I guess Twyla works quick.
I’m surprised when it’s Maverick that walks into the room. He looks absolutely delicious in his grey sweatpants and Blizzard hoodie. His hair is wet, likely from his post-game shower. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to?—”
I’m cut off by him rushing my way in three long strides and pressing his lips roughly to mine. I melt into him as he brings hishands to my cheeks, tilting my head so he can deepen the kiss. Our tongues battle one another as he swallows each and every one of my moans. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the only reason I haven’t fallen to the floor like a boneless pile of mush is because he has such a tight hold on my face.
Holy shit.
We kiss like that for several minutes before he finally pulls away. I miss his lips immediately.
“What was that for?” I ask, still breathless.
He slides his hands down my body, stopping to gently hold onto my waist. “I’m not sure,” he says on a laugh. “Just felt like I needed it.”
I allow myself to stay in the moment with him. Right now, I’m not thinking about this being fake. Or if people will believe us. Or what the media will say. My only concern is how good it feels to be his. Even if it does have an expiration date.
The door opens and Twyla steps in. Maverick doesn’t make an effort to move away, so I lean to the side to see past his massive frame.
“Well, don’t you two just look like the perfect couple?” she says, excitedly. “I love the commitment, but you guys don’t have to put on an act unless the cameras are around.”
Realization rears its ugly head. I know what we signed up for, but I miss being in Mav’s apartment, where we can just be ourselves and not have to worry about who’s watching.
She must notice the change in my demeanor because she gives us a stern look before she speaks again. “You two are still good with this plan, right?” she asks. “You need to be one hundred percent on board for everything, from the public appearances to the staged break-up. If the fans find out what we’re pulling here, our careers will be ruined.”
I go to open my mouth, but I’m cut off when Maverick speaks. “We understand. It’s strictly business. We’re sticking tothe plan.” I look up to find his expression completely void of any emotion. Like he didn’t just kiss me completely breathless five minutes ago because he ‘just needed it’. I can’t lie. It hurts.
Shit. I’m getting emotionally attached. No matter how many times I tell myself this is fake, I can’t help it. Even hearing him confirm it, I still find it hard to believe the things we’ve shared so far have meant nothing to him. Then again, he probably treats all the girls he sleeps with like they’re special.
I swallow roughly as I nod my head in agreement. I don’t trust my voice not to betray me if I speak. Pushing down the feelings of rejection, I put on the mask of confidence I always use when I want people to think my life is perfect while I wait for her to tell us what kind of performance we’ll be putting on for the cameras when we walk out this door.
“Okay, great!” she says with a clap. “I have about ten photographers and reporters standing at the end of the hall. Just go out there and show them how smitten you are. Do it however you want, but I need you to really sell it. These are the pictures that people will be talking about for months!”
Maverick grabs my hand and I go still, but recover quickly. Giving him the realest looking fake smile I can manage, we head out the door and down the hall, where the media waits for us. As soon as we come into view, camera shutters fill my ears while flashes go off in every direction. I look up at Maverick, who is staring down at me with a genuine smile on his face.Damn, he’s good at this. Before I can work through the mixed signals he’s giving, he turns, wrapping his arms around me before lifting me off the ground. When his lips touch mine briefly, I try to forget his coldness as he told Twyla we were keeping things strictly business. Thankfully, I think everyone around us buys it. He sets me back down, nuzzling my nose with his before pulling me into the open elevator.
The doors close, leaving us alone in the quiet space. I don’t say anything. I can’t. I knew exactly what was being asked of me when I agreed to this fake relationship. I can’t be mad at him for not diverting from the plan just because I asked him to have sex with me. Maverick is a great guy and I know he would never intentionally hurt me.
But I guess I’m pretty stellar at hurting myself.
The elevator dings and the doors open to reveal the team parking garage. I pull my hand from his now that I know we aren’t in the public eye and follow him to his car. I don’t wait for him to open my door before sliding inside and buckling up without a word while he throws his bag in the trunk.Real mature, Bella.
He settles into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel, but not turning the key. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
