5. Hunter

HUNTER

“ S o, it’d be fake?” she asks, a line forming between her eyebrows.

It’s not my best line or idea, but it’s all I’ve got. In college, I tried to date, but it never got past the first couple of meetings before it fizzled out. Football always came first, and more than one girl threw a tantrum over that fact. Eventually, I realized hookups were easier. I was in control of the relationship. There was no rejection and also no pressure to keep someone interested in me. Something I’m not sure is possible given the fact that my own mother barely tolerates me.

A real relationship with Stella is out of the question. But with fake dating, there would be no expectations of anything serious between us, and we’d both still benefit from it. Just like last night. Andrew was ecstatic with the headlines, saying this was exactly what we needed. If fake dating Stella will help me get my contract extension, then that’s what I’m going to do.

I had Andrew do some digging, and apparently Jax is livid that Stella has moved on. I’m really hoping she needs to keep me around to continue to make Jax jealous. It’s a far-fetched idea, and she’ll probably say no, but I have to know if she’d be interested.

“Yeah, fake,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I get that this is a strange thing to ask, but I’m hoping you can keep an open mind about it. Last night was fun, but once my season starts, I’m going to be focused only on football. I’m sure you’re also busy with your tour?”

She nods. “I am.”

“So, neither of us would have time for a real relationship. That’d just take our attention away from what matters most to us.”

“Okay, I hear you, but why me? I’m sure there are tons of women who’d jump at the chance to fake date you.”

“Last night,” I say, “was the first positive headline I’ve had in a long time. I need more of those to impress Evren and get my contract with the team extended.” She also captured my interest, and if I have to date someone, I’d want it to be her.

“I see. So, you want to use me?”

“More like we use each other. You help me get some positive headlines, and I’ll help you with your ex. He rubbed me the wrong way last night, and his statement was ridiculous. No man should treat you like you’re his property. Well, unless you’re into that type of thing.”

“I’m not.” Her gaze roams my face for a good minute. “Are you actually wanting to fix your image, or do you just want to use me as a cover while you do all your usual stuff behind my back?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. I can’t fake date you if you’re going to embarrass me. I need you to be loyal in the way I’m sure you can be. I refuse to be cheated on.”

The server comes in with our food, and I’ve never been happier for an interruption than now. Stella’s worried I’ll cheat on her, but she also believes I’m capable of being loyal. No one ever assumes the best in me, but somehow, she does.

“Were you cheated on before?” I ask once we’re alone. The thought of someone cheating on her causes my blood to boil, but that doesn’t make sense. I don’t even know her. There’s no rational reason for me to be feeling protective of her, and yet, here I am.

“It doesn’t matter.” She tries to blow off my question, but it clearly matters by the way she jabs her knife into the meatball with a force that makes me not want to get on her bad side.

“For the record, I’m not a cheater.”

“Whatever you say.” She makes a face as she says it, as if she doesn’t believe me.

“I’m serious. I may sleep around, but the women I’m with know it’s a one-time thing. It’s a stress reliever, but if we do this, I can guarantee I’ll be loyal to you. Hell, I’ll agree to almost anything if you’d just say yes.”

“Football means so much to you, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” I say. “I can’t have my career cut short because of my past mistakes.”

“But are they mistakes? You made your image and even leaned into it. You’ve been successful with this bad-boy thing you’ve got going on, so why are you wanting to change it now?”

“Because Evren hates me. You saw the articles; they’re not positive.”

“So? Have you ever cared about it before? It’s made you money.”

“You’re right, it has. But it’s not serving me anymore. Sure, an image overhaul will help me play for another year, but I’m on the edge of retirement. Being the bad boy has made getting sponsorship deals challenging because not every brand wants to work with me or be associated with me. As much as it pains me to admit, I do need to think about my life after football ends. That means setting myself up for more opportunities.”

She’s silent for so long that I fidget with the napkin in my lap. She’s going to decline my offer. I’m going to have to find another way to impress Evren and?—

“Okay, I can work with that,” she says simply. I give her a confused look and she sighs. “I could actually use a fake boyfriend to help with Jax, to make him jealous. He has a new movie coming out, and I was stupid enough to make the soundtrack for it. Now, I have to attend the upcoming promotional events, and I need a buffer while I’m at them. That’s where you’ll come in since the media loves our supposed relationship already.”

“I’d be happy to help. Do you know when the first event is?”

“Not yet, but it should be soon.”

“My first event will be at Evren’s house. He’s planning a team BBQ before our first game.”

“I’ll be there,” she says. “How long should we date for?”

“My preference would be until February so I can finish out the season.”

“Fine.” Something crosses her face too fast for me to read. “We’ll need our managers to draw up an NDA and contract for us.”

I nod. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” She chugs her glass of wine, as if the conversation is grating on her nerves.

“Thank you for doing this.” I take her hand in mine, a spark zipping through my skin and into my blood. “I promise I’ll be the best fake boyfriend there is.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

I nod and promise myself to make sure that doesn’t happen. She gently extracts her hand from mine and we eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before I ask, “So do you really hate football, or were you joking last night? ”

“I don’t hate the game.”

“But?”

“Growing up, the players were like gods in my town, and I was their favorite target. They reveled in my discomfort, spreading rumors about me.” She shudders and chugs her drink. “Their laughter was a constant, taunting echo in the hallways, and no one believed me when I called them out. I was an outcast, and they made sure I stayed that way.”

“Holy shit. I’m so sorry.”

She lifts her shoulder. “It’s in the past, but yeah, I don’t like football players.”

“Well, we’re about to change that,” I say. “Do you know anything about the game itself?”

“Of course.” She looks anywhere but at me. “I know lots. Tons. Heaps.”

“Uh-huh.” I grin. I never thought someone could look so cute lying. “Do you even know what a tight end is?”

“A tight end, why yes, a tight end is…” A slow grin lights up her face. “Your ass.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “I have a feeling we’re about to have some fun months ahead of us.”

The rest of dinner consists of us getting to know each other. When I’m with her, all the pressure on me for this season disappears, and it’s just her and me, enjoying our time together.

With every detail she reveals, an insatiable hunger arises, and I want to devour every facet of her being. I like how she leans forward, her face lighting up when she talks about something she’s passionate about. She smiles while she talks, as if encouraging me to share in her excitement, and I’m helpless to resist.

I like it, more than I should.

She makes me want to start running for fun just to see her light up doing something she loves. She also makes me want to keep her stocked in her favorite dessert combination of chocolate and peanut butter, just because it makes her happy. Too bad I don’t have a dog, because she thinks they’re the cutest animals.

These thoughts are ridiculous, I know. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I don’t even know her. Two evenings with Stella doesn’t mean I know her. Football, I know. I’ve built my entire life around it. But there’s something about her…the way she laughs, the way she looks at me. It feels like a distraction, one I can’t afford. Not now, not ever.

We stay until closing, and when it’s time to leave, I help her stand and place a hand on the small of her back as we walk through the near-empty restaurant. But outside, the paparazzi swarm the sidewalk, camera flashes lighting up the dim restaurant.

“Shit,” she says, slowing to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” I follow her gaze to the paparazzi.

“I don’t want to flash anyone when I get into the car.”

“I’ll block you.” I never considered how many things women have to worry about when exiting and entering a fucking vehicle when they’re photographed nonstop.

“Thank you,” she whispers, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Hey.” I turn her to face me. “We’re in this together.”

“Right.” She nods once and takes a deep breath. “Team FD.”

“FD?”

“Fake dating, duh.”

“Duh.” I laugh. “Team FD for life.”

I thought returning to Skyrise City, Missouri, would be a relief. But it’s not. It’s empty. Lonely.

Maybe I should consider getting a dog to keep me company. I never noticed how quiet my place is until now. The urge to go out and find someone to spend the night with to keep the loneliness at bay strikes. But I can’t do that anymore, not when I refuse to do that to Stella.

I’ve always felt too big for this city, but that point feels like it’s driven home after coming from a city with over eight million people to one that barely tops five hundred thousand. Where New York City has something always open, the stores here close by nine, and most aren’t open on Sundays.

I pull out my phone and message my two best friends. Andrew said I need to make nice with the team, but I have no idea where to start with that. But maybe Jake and Quincy will have some ideas.

Me: I’m back in town. Anyone up to grill at mine?

Jake: I’ll bring the steaks.

Quincy: I’ll bring the beer.

I fire up the grill and wait for them to arrive. I met Jake, our quarterback, when I started on the team eight years ago. Quincy, our center, joined a few years later and we all instantly became friends. Friendship isn’t necessary to win, but somehow Quincy and Jake looked past my competitive spirit and became more than just teammates.

Jake’s the all-American, boy-next-door type. Side-swept, black hair with looks that rival models, and more comfortable in a suit than anyone I know. Today, he’s dressed down in some sweat shorts and a matching zippered jacket.

Quincy is the family guy. He and his wife, Nora, have three kids together. He always has a smile on his face, only styles his hair in twists, and lives in ripped jeans and graphic tees.

“I’m going to need your autograph for the kids,” Quincy says, clapping me on the shoulder in greeting when I open the door. “They think you’re superhero cool now that you know Stella Wilde.”

“They’re fans of Stella’s?” I ask.

“Who isn’t?” Quincy laughs. “Nora wants to make you her famous lasagna so you can get an autograph for her since she’s Stella’s biggest fan, and she only makes that for holidays.”

“So basically, what you’re saying is that I’m a superhero who invented a new holiday.”

Jake laughs. “Looks like your trip didn’t diminish your ego.”

“Did you think it would?” I ask and lead them to my backyard. It’s a balmy evening in Skyrise, so I turn on the outdoor fans for us.

“Think? No. But hoped,” Jake says.

Quincy grins. “What’s up with you and Stella, anyway?”

“We’re dating.”

Both of my friends look at me, then each other, and burst out into laughter.

“Yeah, right,” Quincy says. “The man who doesn’t believe in relationships is dating Stella Wilde? I don’t believe it.”

Jake pulls a bottle of beer out of Quincy’s six-pack and passes it to me. “You feeling okay? You catch a fever or something in New York?”

“Thanks a lot, assholes,” I say. “But I’m serious. ”

“Right.” Quincy nods. “I get it now. You believe you’re dating. But she doesn’t know, does she?”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter. “Is it so unbelievable to consider that I might be telling the truth?”

“Yes,” they reply at once.

“I’m serious,” I say and look both of them dead in the eye. “I’m going to some movie promotional thing with her soon and she’s coming to the team BBQ.”

“For real?” Quincy asks.

“Yes,” I say. “And I need you two to not embarrass me.”

“We’ll try,” Jake says. “But I still can’t get over the fact that you went away for two days and came back with a girlfriend.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m just as shocked as you are, but you haven’t met Stella yet. When you do, you’ll understand. She’s hilarious and sassy and gorgeous as fuck.”

“Ohhhh, you’ve got it bad,” Quincy teases.

“Maybe, but I have a question for you,” I say. “I wanted to work on integrating with the team better, but I don’t know where to start.”

Jake chokes on his beer. “You want to what now?”

“Integra—”

“I heard you,” Jake says. “I just… Are you sure you didn’t hit your head or something?”

“Fuck off. I’m serious.”

“What’s brought this on?” Quincy asks.

I could tell them about my plan on how to get my contract extended, but it’s depressing to admit that I’ve never cared about getting close with the team. Instead, I say, “I thought it might help us win this year.”

Jake gives me a long look, as if he doesn’t believe me, but Quincy’s quick to jump into ideas. His advice is everything I’ve been told not to do my entire life. My dad never let a conversation between us stray from film review or upcoming plays. The personal lives of my teammates? It didn't matter, and he’d scold me for becoming distracted by locker room gossip. Over the years, my focus on winning built a wall between my teammates and me.

And now Quincy is suggesting doing the opposite. His first step? To actually eat with the team during training camp, instead of eating alone like I usually do. He even proposes that I ask someone a personal question. It should be an easy first step, but my skin crawls at the thought of doing that.

I chug my beer, already dreading the uphill battle I have on my hands.