Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

IVY

I was going viral. Actually, we were.

It wasn't enough that I humiliated myself in front of all my friends, but someone recorded it and posted it online, turning the entire thing into mockery. Making me seem like a pathetic girl in love who wanted her ex back so desperately that she would even ruin her sister's relationship.

I stared at the tiny screen in Derek's hand where my teary face was all blown up and zoomed in.

Gosh, I was an ugly crier.

Of course, the video had no sound. It only showed what Westpoint students wanted the world to know. Me crying at the bottom of the stairs and Ander standing between me and my sister. No one recorded his cruel words. No one took a snapshot of his sadistic smile.

As usual, he was the victim and I was to blame.

It was the same when he cheated on me with my sister. Everyone felt bad for him when he was the one committing adultery.

It wasn't fair.

He was a narcissistic bastard with victim mentality. He was toxic, and while I got out, it didn't feel like I was ever going to get fully rid of him.

Max's pine scent hit my nose as he moved closer to me, and his arm snaked around my shoulders, gently pulling me to him. It was a kind and comforting gesture.

"Just breathe," he murmured in my ear and pushed away his friend's extended hand when he saw his own face on the video.

"Take a deep breath, Ivy," he said again as I struggled to breathe, his fingers pressing into my shoulder with just enough force to distract me from my spiraling thoughts. Instead, I focused on the way his fingers drummed gently on my shoulder, one at a time, lifting and pressing back. I savored a small swirl in the base of my stomach when his thumb caressed my exposed skin peeking out from my dress and he draw small, calming circles. I relished the weight of his dropped arm, the safety belt of his protectiveness. And his warm breath tickling my neck as he leaned in closer.

"You're doing great, Ivy," he praised me.

I suddenly became painfully aware how a tiny praise made me feel. Breathing was supposed to come easy, yet I struggled with the most basic human function.

I was pathetic, not someone who should be praised for being able to keep herself alive.

Ander's voice echoed in my head, his cruel words bouncing in my mind and reminding me of all the things he called me.

Stupid.

Pathetic.

Bitch.

"Ivy." Max's voice sounded somewhere far away, and I blinked, focusing on the reality in front of me. Questioning gazes burned my skin. Dex and Maddox stared like they haven't seen me before.

"Come inside," Maddox suggested, moving his tall frame out of the way and allowed us space to step in.

Max kept his arm around me as he guided me inside, his voice a muffled sound compared to the shouting coming from the living room. I glanced toward the voices arguing and strange gunshot coming from the open space living room.

"Ignore them, they are playing Fortnite or Call of Duty or whatever that is," Max explained casually.

I groaned, "They don't even look the same."

Max's lips tugged upward as he suppressed a grin. At least this got me out of my weird trance. "You shoot each other in both games. Same thing."

"Yes, but the essence is different."

"Potato, potahto." He shrugged with a grin.

"Before you guys dive any deeper into that fascinating subject," Maddox cut me off before I even opened my mouth, "we need an explanation."

Max nodded, now looking like he was carrying the weight of the world as he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "We are dating. Fake dating. It's official now. You both thought it was a stellar idea hours ago… so… here we fucking go."

He didn't come across as cheerful as I imagined him based on the excuse he gave me that he had his reasons. But he probably didn't expect this little problem to come up with my humiliation being plastered all over the internet.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Don't take us for a fool… but what's going on with…" He pointed at me.

"What do you mean?" I narrowed my eyes.

Guess, he wasn't going to pretend I was far from that girl he met on the run. I was far from that charming, smiling thing that batted her eyelashes on Max wanting him to agree. I had a drive back then.

But a few hours in Ander's presence dragged me down into the dangerous slopes of my black hole. A hole where he intended to keep me and never let me go. I could feel his claws digging into me deeper and keeping me where he wanted me to be.

I swallowed hard. "Ander is a dick," I replied.

Derek snickered. "Tell us something we don't know."

It was supposed to be a joke, a rhetorical request. But my chest tightened.

Max shook his head and his thumb resumed drawing circles on my heated flesh. "One step at a time. I'm assuming we need to make this official."

"Damage control is your first step," Maddox agreed. "Maybe post a photo of the two of you."

"Okay, we can take one."

"In different clothes though," Derek cut in. "Maybe change into something you worse first day at school."

"I don't remember what I wore." Max snorted, glancing at me. "Do you?"

"I might like video games, but I'm a girl. I do remember the red top and straight jeans."

"Great, we can go grab your stuff later and take some pictures. But first… food?"

"We just ordered," Dex offered, "burgers and fries."

I must have made a face as Max groaned. "Are you vegan?"

"I sense judgement in your tone." I chuckled before shaking my head. "I don't eat red meat. But chicken and turkey, yes…"

"I can add chicken nuggets or wings to the order." Derek pulled his phone out. "Which one?"

"Nuggets."

"By the way, nothing wrong with vegans but makes going out to dinner a pain," Max chimed in.

"Like most dietary requirements." I shrugged.

"True… but with chicken, we can work it out," he said with a wink, and my stomach did a surprised backflip from his wink. "Now… let me introduce you to the rest of the team. If you are ready."

My racing heart and galloping thoughts had settled in the last couple of minutes, allowing me to take in the foyer of the Titan's house, looking around at the marble staircase and the minimalistic decorated jacket rack and dump table. It wasn't messy, but it wasn't organized either. Rather it was lived in, homey.

I should have been trembling. I was walking into our enemy's house, full of players who watched me cheer for an opposite team.

Yet there was not one ounce of fear in my body. Anticipation and strange excitement buzzed through my body, and I found myself looking forward to meeting the team. The team I only heard negative things about, yet I knew, deep down in my heart, that not everything that Ander told me was true.

Max was the living example of that.

And if Max, who was the worst person in Ander's eyes, was the total opposite, his team couldn't be bad at all either.

The next hour was spent with devouring delicious chicken nuggets with lots of ketchup and fries, washing it down with diet Coke. My emotional support food wrapped a little blanket around me and supplied me with instant happiness. But it wasn't just the food that wrapped around me. Max's hands never left my body. His touch was gentle and caring, keeping it on my lower back as he guided me through the house, introducing me to his teammates, and once we sat, he kept it on my thighs. Occasionally, he would tuck back my hair, or lean closer whenever he was saying something in a low, rumbling voice. None of his touch was intrusive or possessive, yet I could never forget he was next to me. Not even when I'd gotten introduced to all the guys on the soccer team, unable to recall all their names and positions. I was satisfied just by being able to have a conversation with them. It wasn't hard. After our fake story time, there were no questions about my ex, or the viral video of me being humiliated. None. Instead, we chatted about video games. Maverick showed me their impressive collection of PS5, Wii and Nintendo Switch. Different guys had different preferences, but they were all equally shocked when I said I never played the one with sports. I wasn't even faking the surprise on my face when Max stood up, his hands leaving my thigh for the first time since we sat down, and he pulled out a box from under the TV, showing off his impressive collection of Nintendo Switch accessories. From a wheel to tennis rackets, golf, and hockey sticks, there was everything. Even a strap-on for playing soccer.

"You're joking." I let out a stunned snort, and walking over to him, I picked up the black mesh strap-on. "Of course, you have the soccer one."

A shy smile tugged on his lips. "I told you… I'm all soccer."

For a moment, my heart skipped a beat, expecting him to use the word ‘babe' that all the guys always used with their girlfriends, but his word of endearment was a pause.

"You need to ask him how many things he has broken due to using that shit," Derek chimed in.

Max's smile developed into a grin. "Yeah, I stopped counting. But I'm an Arizona kid. In the first year, I had no idea what to do with… rain. Like am I supposed to go out, everything is slippery and muddy. And it does get cold as well…"

"Seriously?" I couldn't hold in my laughter, and I glanced back toward the oak dining table situated in the other end of the room and surveyed his teammates' faces. They were all grinning and nodding. "Oh my gosh, you are serious!"

"He used to think he was made of sugar," Liam cooed, grinning at his captain.

"I am made of sugar." Max flipped him off. "Contrary to you assholes."

"Is that why you are so against surfing?" I wiggled my brows, turning toward my fake boyfriend. "Afraid of some water?"

"Nah, he is just a pussy," Micah offered me an explanation.

This time, I didn't look back, instead I watched Max roll his eyes with a shrug and didn't even react to his words. It felt like the guy's comment wasn't even worth his time. It was strange seeing the dynamics between the guys. Ander didn't let anyone breathe a wrong word about him, while with the Titans, it had that family bickering feeling. The teasing and joking, yet I could tell they were ready to jump down my throat if I hurt him. I felt their eyes trail every movement between us like I was a prey. But mostly, they watched the way Max behaved around me, noted every small touch. He was putting on the show for them, to show them this was serious as I was the first girl he ever brough into the house.

Those were some big shoes to fill.

"So… does she know about Thalia?" Nico said, and I blinked in surprise.

"Was that your girlfriend from freshman year?" I asked, my eyes still remaining on Max. His posture changed, his hands disappeared in his pockets, and it seemed like the distance between us grew. Did he take a step back?

"I was just getting there, thanks," he muttered to Nico in a dark tone, while I heard a low chuckle from the table.

"You better get that story out in time…" Someone shut him up before he could finish the sentence, yet it still felt like a punch to the gut.

I knew Max had his reasons for wanting to fake date me, but I didn't realize it was a girl.

"Why don't I show you the rest of the house?" Max offered, tilting his head toward the door.

The guys behind me snickered. "And your room, Captain."

All it took was one dark look from Max to get them to shut up, and I was impressed. He didn't exercise any of his captain privileges to be a dick; he only used his leadership skills when they were making me uncomfortable.

"Sounds good." I nodded and offered him my hand.

Max threaded his fingers through mine, before we walked back toward the foyer to take on the staircase.

"Nico, make sure you clean up," Max said over his shoulder. "You seemed like you had some extra energy to burn off."

I grinned at that.

I wasn't surprised that Max's room was on the second floor. I turned my head away, allowing him privacy to enter his room's code.

I felt his eyes on me, as I surveyed the corridor with rooms. "Most of the times sophomores are doubled up in rooms as well as some juniors who are not starters. Seniors have their own room. As I'm the captain, I should have gotten the biggest one, but I stayed in my last year's room. I really don't spend enough time in here for it to matter," he explained as he pushed the door open and stepped aside.

My gaze roamed over a very minimalistic room. In the middle, a king-sized bed stood, with a grey comforter on it and some decorative throw pillows, one of them shaped as a soccer ball. Two white bedside tables on either side of the bed took space. A big window overlooked the back of the house, under which a desk was positioned with piles of books. I remembered him dropping his backpack in the foyer when we entered, but either Derek or Maddox must have brough it up as it was sitting on his office chair.

"En suite to the left and the right door leads to the closet. I use the dresser for most of my clothes," he pointed at said furniture piece which I missed as a TV was positioned on top of it. "I have some space in the closet, if you ever want or need to leave clothes here."

I nodded, sobering up. "Right…"

"If you prefer the dresser, I can empty out a drawer or two," Max offered, his dark eyes scanning my face. "What's wrong?"

"Am I supposed to leave clothes here?" I asked, sounding stupid. We were supposed to be dating. Of course I was meant to sleep over and have clothes here. There was no way he was going to come to Westpoint.

"I have a little apartment too with Kaia," I muttered at last.

Max nodded. "I can come stay there too… but…"

"You have early morning practice," I finished his sentence.

"Do you have a car?"

"Of course."

"If not, I can drive you after my practice…"

"How are we supposed to keep this up?"

Max ran his fingers through his messy hair. "If I don't have a morning practice, we can run together, otherwise if you sleep over, I can drop you off afterwards, and we pick certain afternoons other than weekends when we have designated date nights. On weekends, I can go with you to a party of your choice, unless I have an away game."

My nerves settled a bit. "This is good…" I muttered. "What about your home games?"

A grimace passed on Max's face. "I'm not going to force you to come."

Hurt prickled in my chest. "I'm your girlfriend. Shouldn't I be wearing your jersey?"

"Yes." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His dark eyes turned darker as he was imagining something in his head. "You should… if you want."

"It would be weird if I didn't go." I shrugged. "I'm under no obligation to watch Westpoint games. But I'm sure I can convince Kaia to come with me and I'll get a jersey or an apparel."

Max shook his head. "I'll give you mine."

Those words shouldn't have made my stomach backflip, but they did. A shiver ran across my body and I smiled at him. "I would really like that."

"Also, we need to talk about pet names," Max went on to his next order of business. "I hate ‘babe' and ‘baby'. I only use it when I'm being sarcastic, and only call me that if you want to piss me off."

I liked those, but I nodded since Ander also used them, so it was nice exploring something new. "What do… people… exes… call you?"

"Max?" he offered, making me laugh.

"That's not a pet name, darling." He grimaced. "Love?"

"Well… unless either of us is British."

A laugh exploded out of me, and a satisfied grin played on his lips.

"Okay, so I use pet names for you and you just call me Max," he concluded.

"Not a chance."

"Then, let's put a pause on pet names, until one of us comes up with a fitting one for the other," he offered as a last resort.

"Fine," I agreed with a smile. "Do you have to approve it?"

"Would be nice, otherwise, I might choke on whatever I'm drinking or eating if you spring it on me out of the blue, and you won't have a boyfriend."

"So dramatic." Max was funny and easy going. It was hard not to like him.

"What can I say…"

There was a small silence between us. Max used the time to unpack his school bag and dump his sweaty clothes in the laundry basket, while I sat on his comfortable bed and examined the pictures displayed on the bedside table. One of them was the team picture from last year's final. I recognized most of the guys from downstairs and it was great seeing Max hold the trophy. Another one was with him and the National team during one of the games—Copa America. The last one caught my attention. It was Max and an older male, wearing the Titan's jacket and putting his arms around Max. I knew he was familiar but I couldn't place him.

"That's Sky McCarthy," Max offered when I took the picture in my hand, examining his proud smile and sparkly eyes. He looked at him with admiration and love. "He is one of the best midfielders in history in the entire world. He is our assistant coach."

I gaped at him. "Really?"

"Why do you think we are so good?" Max grinned. "Jokes aside, Coach Parker knows him and couple of years ago he wanted to get into coaching, but didn't want to make a huge fuss about it, so he invited him, and I guess he just fell in love with our team. He's not here most of the times, but when he is here…"

"Is he a tough coach?" I asked, placing the picture back and leaning on my elbows to look up at Max, who was standing dangerously close to me. I could feel the heat radiating from him.

"Tough but good and fair. Very skilled. He basically made me into the player I am today. He plays where I play, he can help me, and all the other midfielders the most. In soccer, it's not enough to have good strikers, you need to have good midfielders to move the ball up and generate game."

I nodded along as he launched into his little soccer speech.

But my mind kept wondering to the comments thrown at me downstairs about his ex and the big story behind why he actually wanted to fake date me. I knew it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart as he stated back on the beach. This was way too much of a complication for him when he had his eyes set on one thing only.

Soccer.

"Max?" His name left my lips in a little sigh and his dark eyes connected with mine. Minutes that seemed like hours passed as chemistry sizzled between us. I couldn't remember the last time I had sex, but it had to be almost three months ago. Max swallowed hard and licked his lips, as if he could read my thoughts. I didn't trust myself to not reach out for him and do something stupid like kiss him. We should strictly keep that for public appearances. Instead, I cleared my throat, and in a raspy voice, I said, "You owe me a story…"