Page 15 of Play the Last Track
IfIhadknowntonight was going to be an ambush, I would’ve just stayed home. Or at the bar. Anything would’ve been better than hearing Ivy go on and on about how Flynn Reed needs my help.
“He’s a nice guy,” Ivy says for the millionth time tonight. I nod in reply because I have run out of things to say.
After Italy, I never told Ivy what happened between Flynn and me. All she knows is that one day, we were flirting with one another, laughing and smiling at our inside jokes and getting closer by the day, and then the next, I hated him.
I never told her that I know just how nice Flynn really is. That I know how he can make you laugh to the point of running out of breath, or feel at ease with a simple touch. I never mentioned that I knew how he could make a girl smile with a simple few words whispered quietly into their ear, or turn them on with only a look.
Me and every other girl he’s ever come across.
I would like to think I’m special. I would like to think the moves he used on me were for me alone, but that would be naïve of me. He’s Flynn Reed. Boston Broncos tight end. Infamous for having woman after woman on his arm at events. A big, fat flirt.
We got swept up in the Italian summer of it all.
I got swept up.
“Please, Katie? Please, please, will you help?” Ivy begs. I look up from my place on her couch. She’s sitting at the coffee table, her school work spread out in front of her as she sorts a pile of finger paintings into different colored folders.
“Sorry, Ives, I was a million miles away for a moment there. What are you asking me?”
“Flynn needs a fake girlfriend for the season.”
The glass in my hand nearly slips through my fingers as my jaw goes slack. “Hewhat?”
“Katie, weren’t you listening to anything I have been saying?” She sighs and turns to face me. “So, ever since the footage of Flynn hitting that guy outside Pat’s got leaked, he’s been in huge trouble with the team. Like, Scott said that they told Hollie to start looking elsewhere for him to sign.”
“Oh my god, what?” Flynn is one of the better tight ends in the league. I can’t believe the Broncos would drop him over a video.
“Apparently, he hasn’t been playing all that well lately, and they think he’s distracted. Unstable. The video just came out at the wrong time. Poor Flynn.” She takes her wine glass from the coffee table and sips it. “Scott says he’s having confidence issues.”
“Flynn Reed? Confidence issues?”
“Yep.” She takes another sip. When she sets the glass down on the table, her mouth opens like she has something else she wants to say, but she shakes her head a little.
“What is it?” I prompt.
“Huh? Nothing,” she replies, her head still shaking from side to side. “It’s nothing.”
“Ivy.” I sigh. “Just say it. Youknow you want to.”
Ivy glances toward the hallway that leads to the stairs. Scott is redoing their guest bathroom at the moment, and every so often, we hear a thud or groan coming from the floor above.
“Should he be renovating during the season? What if he hurts himself?” I ask, amused a little as a string of curse words filters down to us from upstairs.
“He won’t listen to me. Insists on doing the demo himself.” Ivy shakes her head. She gets off the ground, grabs her glass, and takes a seat on the couch next to me. “So, Scott was telling me that Flynn has been having doubts about whether he wants to even stay in the league.”
“Jesus. And he told Scott this?”
“Well, no. Scott overheard him talking to his mother. Who, apparently, has never been all that supportive of his career choice. She even tried to talk him out of entering the draft.”
“Really?” I lean forward. Flynn never mentioned this to me. All the talks we had, all the late-night chats, and not once did he mention anything about his parents being unsupportive.
“He denies it, I think, and Scott says she’s nice, but she make comments about him not being as good as other players. Little digs that he shouldn’t be in the NFL.” Ivy shakes her head. “Which is crazy because Flynn is one of the best damn tight ends I’ve ever seen. Scott thinks so, too. When his head’s in the game.”
“And his head hasn’t been in the game lately?”
“I think he’s been distracted. Uncle Jeff is even getting frustrated with him not playing to his full potential.”
“So because he’s been distracted, he needs a fake girlfriend?”
