Page 31 of The Pucking Fake Boyfriend

BRITNEY

I’ve never much liked plane rides, but this is the worst one I’ve ever been on, and for so many reasons.

First, I’m going to California for a job I was desperate to skive off. There are many massage therapists with the Flyers, and I had hoped that I would not be one of the few who were picked to go along with them for this game.

Second, I’m travelling with the entire team. They talk at the top of their voices about topics I don’t care much about. They are speaking so loudly, even my headset cannot block them out.

Not that I can know for sure. I can’t exactly put them on right now.

Which leads me to the third reason this flight is so miserable. Through some divinely orchestrated series of misfortunes, also known as my father, I am seated with none other than Theodore Furman. He has been talking to me since takeoff.

Or, rather, talkingatme.

“You don’t say much, do you?” He’s looking at me with furrowed brows.

Don’t I? Or have you been prattling on about how your NFTs are a good investmentfor an hour,and you barely let me get a word in?

I give him a blank smile, realizing for the first time that I almost miss hanging out with Alex. At least with him, I am able to say something every now and then.

Alex. I’ve been thinking about him since we took off. My head had swiveled around of its own accord a few times and found him. He’s three seats in front of me on the opposite aisle, and I can only catch the back of his head. Still, just seeing his hair shoots a sliver of excitement down my spine.

Nothing can happen on this trip. We both have jobs to do. We’re also going to be surrounded by every single member of the team, along with my dad and the Furmans.

Still, I can’t help wondering what it would feel like if we could both steal away for just an hour.

“But you’re a really good listener.” Theodore sighs with satisfaction, interrupting my thoughts.

I let out a deep breath, almost grateful for the interruption. I do not want to go deeper down the rabbit hole of thinking about Alex.

“I like that,” Theodore continues. “A lot of girls like to yap on and on these days. Can never get a girlfriend to listen to me anymore.”

What a shocker.

It’s almost impossible to keep my blank smile on, but I manage to, even if my brain is reeling.

Stop. Rewind. Girlfriend?

I stare at him, trying to find a hint in the sleazy expression on his face. Why would he use that word? Did his dad hint at us becoming a couple? Or is he just being his usual clueless self?

I force myself to breathe as normally as I can while nodding along to Theodore’s next barrage of words.

This is bad. Really, really bad.

If either of our fathers had said something to him, the plan was progressing a lot faster than I expected. My dad had made sure we sat together as part of his plan, but I thought he was hoping we’d form a natural connection by ourselves. Not because he’d told Theodore anything about pursuing me.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I manage to cut into Theodore’s speech about how sports cars are an investment. I’m too shaken to even use my usual low voice.

Theo looks upset. “Sure. Just get back quickly. I like talking to you.”

Ugh.

I stand up and make my way to the back. Alex’s voice is clearly audible over the din, but I force my gaze ahead, trying not to wonder about what he’s saying or if he’s watching me leave. I slip into the small restroom and slam the door shut.

Lordy, I think, holding on to the sink and staring at my white face in the mirror.

I’d failed. Massively. Not even a single picture of myself and Alex had surfaced from the club. I waited for days after what happened, and nothing had come up on the internet. On the other hand, things are going better for Alex, and a few blogs are starting to back down on attacking him.

I wish I could say I’d been hard at work thinking of a new plan for the past few days, but I wasn’t. I was . . . distracted. All I could think about was Alex’s parting words to me, telling me to touch myself to his image.

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