10. Colton

Colton knew he was wearing on Lucia’s nerves, but watching her temper rise distracted him from that familiar tightness in his chest. It’d been less than two days since the loss, and his father’s words still echoed around in his head.

“Your season is up. It might be time for you to hang up your helmet and look for some coaching jobs. You’ll be lucky if you can get a spot as a quarterback coach with a D3 team.” And more like that. His dad was such an ass, but once again, he couldn’t disagree. He hadn’t played well, and he could very well be on his way out of the league.

“Colton, are you even listening? God, it’s literally like working with a ten-year-old,” Lucia sighed exasperatedly.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I am, in fact, smarter than a fifth grader. I got a very prestigious degree from Crestview.”

“I wasn’t insulting your intelligence that time, just your attention span.”

“What’s that? You want to know my wingspan? My, my, Moretti. I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

She smacked his arm, pushing away from her desk and walking to the tall windows. “I can’t stand you. It’s a wonder anybody believes we’re together.”

“About that. I need a picture of you for my locker. You know, for believability’s sake. The sexier, the better. Anything involving lingerie is a plus, but I won’t dock points if you go full nude.” He winked as she whirled around to face him.

She threw the only thing she could find at him: her pen. It bounced off the desk, half a foot away from him.

“I’m going to have to tell the coaches that the analyst who’s supposed to be helping the quarterback can’t even hit a large, stationary target. They generally frown upon things like that.”

“You should be glad I don’t know where you live, ‘cause the moment I find out, you’ll have to sleep with your eyes open.” She pointed at him, eyes narrowing. “Wide open.”

She continued to glare at him until he put his hands up in defeat. “Come back, Moretti. I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor. Tell me what your fancy quarterback software says I need to fix.”

She let out a deep sigh but complied, walking back to her desk. “It doesn’t take my fancy quarterback software to see what’s wrong, Colton.”

He didn’t like that tone. She sounded like she was pitying him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted more of their bickering. He needed it.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe it isn’t all a numbers game. Maybe it’s not just the pressure from the opposing team coming down on you. Maybe there’s more to it.”

He was very uncomfortable with where this discussion was heading, but he tried to play it off. “Don’t tell me you think I need a sports psychologist. I’ll really lose favor with the coaches and management if they need to hire another consultant just for me.”

She was quiet, and he hated that most of all. She couldn’t be serious. Yes, he was struggling, and yes, even his wins weren’t his best work, but they were still up three and one for the season. He’d fucked up on Sunday, but he would make it up to the team.

“Colton,” she said gently. “Do you even enjoy the game anymore? When you go out there, do you focus on having fun, or is winning truly all you care about?”

He didn’t even have to think about his answer. Like a robot, he responded, “Winning is all I care about.” Because that’s how it’d always been, and how it needed to be. If he wanted the adoration of the fans and the love of his coaches, teammates, and family, he had to keep putting in the effort and getting the wins.

“I see you, you know. I can see how you’re feeling at any given point. I saw your frustration manifest in those plays on Sunday. You’re not having fun, and that might be a part of the problem. Maybe you need a break?”

He ignored her question, going over each of her previous words carefully, savoring them slowly. She’d been paying attention to him during the game? She knew him well enough that she could tell just by looking at him how he was feeling? What did that mean, exactly? What exactly had she meant when she’d said, “I see you”?

“I don’t think I need a break.” His words were sharper than he’d intended, but they left no room for discussion, just as he wanted. A break was not an option. If he took a break, then somebody else would come to take his place, and then he’d never be able to prove himself. What he needed was to get his shit together so he could keep winning.

“I understand that, but I want you to know that I can’t guarantee everything is going to fix itself just because I’m here, or just because you’re getting more reps in. I won’t overstate my abilities, especially if I don’t believe the problem is entirely outside your head.”

“Go back to telling me you see me. Say more things like that.”

“Colton…”

She paused as he leaned closer to her, like he’d wanted to do from the moment he’d walked into her office and seen her in that stupidly tight blouse that made it hard for him to think. Or, if he was being honest, from the moment she’d walked into the boardroom at the end of August.

“Colton, what are you doing?” She was whispering.

He followed suit. “Exercising my duty as your boyfriend.”

“But there’s nobody around.”

He paused for a moment, watching her for any sign of discomfort. Her eyes were hazy, like that night on the third floor. Her lips were parted slightly, beckoning him.

“Tell me you want me to stop.”

He waited five seconds, then ten. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned a little closer. He brushed his lips against hers gently, reveling in the softness of them. God, what a bad idea. This moment was going to drive him out of his mind, especially since he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t, let this move any further. They were both there to do a job.

He pulled away, just far enough that their lips no longer touched, but close enough that they brushed together when he said certain words. “Look at us. We haven’t even tried to rip each other apart today.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked at him. “I guess you’re growing on me.”

Her stomach grumbled, and he chuckled, pulling back. “Let’s go get dinner.”

“What, together?”

“Yes, together. That’s what couples do. Plus, think of the nice message we’ll get from Tessa for being seen together publicly.”

“I have to write a report for this session.”

“So write it in the morning. Nobody’s going to look at it before then anyway. And that’s assuming they look at it at all.”

She clicked her tongue at him. “But you’ve been entirely uncooperative. We’ve barely done anything worth discussing in the report.”

He shrugged. “So write that. It’s not like Colton Beaumont being uncooperative is news to anybody. They’d believe that shit in a heartbeat. Might be the most believable thing you write.”

She rolled her eyes, placing the errant pen she’d thrown at him into her neat little pen holder and closing her laptop. “I swear to god, you’re going to cost me this job someday.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But today’s not that day. Come on, you’re clearly starving.”

Lucia’s phone kept lighting up with messages, the vibration shaking their table. Finally, she tucked it under her leg, shaking her head at Colton apologetically.

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, no. I don’t ask you about all those women on your phone. That’s not a part of the agreement.”

He clenched his jaw. Sure, their agreement was purely for show, but it wouldn’t exactly be a good look if either of them were linked to someone else. As they both were aware, the media would find a way to expose that.

Plus, he wanted to be the only person she was talking to.

“I only downloaded my social media apps to see the fallout after the situation with Clark. All those notifications were from DMs, which I never respond to, and I’ve deleted all the apps since.”

She sipped from her water. “Why were you looking at the fallout of our engagement on social media?”

Colton shrugged, embarrassed. He hadn’t planned on ever telling her that. “Wanted to see if he’d post about it, I guess. I don’t know what I was looking for.”

She grimaced. “Max rarely posted about me when we were together. He wasn’t going to say anything after we broke up.”

“Would you like for me to post about you?”

He knew Tessa had told them they needed to post about each other, but he wanted to know what Lucia wanted.

She waved her hand as she shook her head. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. He just posted about so many other things, it would’ve been nice to be on his profile somewhere. I wouldn’t expect someone who doesn’t use those apps to post.” She reached for her water again. “Plus, we’re getting a little old for social media.”

He heard her phone vibrate, eyes flicking down her body at the noise. He reminded himself, not for the first time, that this was all a ruse. She didn’t owe him anything, not even fake loyalty.

“It’s Max, by the way. I’m not, like, talking to other people while we’re publicly together. He just hasn’t left me alone since the news came out.”

He mentally counted the number of downsides of their deal, at least for her. She had to report to a supervising analyst. In addition to all of her regular work and the work she did with him, she now had to create a report after every session. And, apparently, Max was so pissed off, he was blowing up her phone. The piece of shit had probably treated her like garbage during their whole relationship and had just expected her to be there for him after he cheated.

“What’s he saying?”

She swirled her water with her straw, ice clinking against the glass. “Keeps saying it’s pathetic that I left him for you. That you would be the type of person to take his sloppy seconds.”

Colton’s right hand clenched his glass tightly. The next time he saw Max Clark, he was going to deck him. Pummel him. Eviscerate him.

Lucia must’ve noticed him tense, because she continued, “Sorry, don’t take that personally. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Colton cleared his throat, his voice low but dangerous. “I’m not mad he said that about me. I’m pissed he said that about you.”

Her eyes met his, and the corner of her mouth quirked up. “I haven’t taken him seriously in a while. He went from a shitty boyfriend, to a shittier fiancé, to the shittiest ex.”

“Why don’t you block him?”

She swirled her straw again, and Colton had to stop himself from reaching out to halt her fidgeting. “I know it might seem stupid, but a part of me thinks he might, maybe, apologize? Finally see that he was wrong for cheating on me, and say sorry?”

“Would you take him back?”

She scoffed, “God, no. But I spent seven years of my life loving him. Or at least thinking I did. I’d like to see some kind of redemption arc for him.” Colton watched her fiddle with the ring on her middle finger.

He really didn’t want to say the next words. He’d been enjoying their fake relationship and truce, and he wanted it to continue, but he couldn’t ignore all of the hardships she was having to endure because of it. So, quietly, he asked, “Do you think it’d be easier if we broke up?”

Her hand stilled. “Oh, uh, why?”

“Well, just, if it’s making your life more difficult, both by adding extra work and an even shittier Clark, maybe you want an out?”

She watched him, her mouth opening and then closing.

“Lucia, I’m not saying I don’t want to continue, just so we’re clear. But the point of the arrangement was for us to both benefit, and if you aren’t benefiting, then I don’t want you to feel like we have to continue.” He smiled at her warmly. “I’d like to think we’re the kind of people who can play nice and maybe one day be friends if we were to break up.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think it makes sense. You were right about this allowing us to control the narrative the press spins, and that’s what I need right now. The added report and a few more texts from Max a day aren’t a big deal. I think it’d be worse if we broke up now.” She placed a hand on his, startling him. “But I appreciate the offer. And what you’re giving up by fake dating me.”

Giving up? What was he giving up by dating her? Having fewer laughs a day and very empty—albeit rare—free time?

Before he had an opportunity to voice that, she asked, “So, if we’re going to keep doing this, I need to know more about you.”

“Anything specific? Or should I just dump anything meaningful from my life onto you?”

“Why don’t you tell me about your family?”

His family. That was a bigger question than she knew. “Well, I have a younger brother and sister. Landon plays tight end for the Sentinels, but I’m sure you knew that. My sister plays pro tennis, and she’s on the women’s tour right now.”

“Jesus. Athletic family. I know Landon went to Crestview, too. Did Maya?”

“Yeah. We grew up near LA, so it just made sense to stay nearby. Especially after our mom passed.”

Lucia’s eyes widened, and the waiter chose that moment to bring their food.

The young man, little older than a boy, placed Lucia’s pasta and Colton’s personal pizza in front of each of them. He stopped when Colton looked up at him.

Excitedly, he said, “Oh my gosh, Donovan said it was you, but I didn’t believe him. I—I’m so sorry to do this, but would you sign my shirt for me? My family will lose their mind.”

Colton always felt awkward when people asked him for pictures or autographs, but he smiled. “Of course. Do you have a pen, or…?”

“Yes!” He rummaged around in his apron pockets, pulling out a black pen and lowering his shoulder so Colton could sign where he pointed.

When Colton capped the pen, he motioned toward Lucia and asked, “Don’t you want her signature? That’s Lucia fricking Moretti, the greatest NFL analyst and football software creator the league has ever seen.”

Lucia’s eyes widened again, for a different reason this time. The poor waiter began stuttering. “Oh, oh, oh, I’m so sorry. I—I’m so sorry. Would you…?” He sank down, pointing out a place on the opposite side of his shirt.

“I don’t think—”

“Moretti, do the man this one small favor.”

She sighed, smiling politely at the waiter before signing on his shoulder. When he walked away excitedly, she glared at Colton. “Why would you do that? He seemed so stressed out, like he thought he should’ve known who I was.”

“I always feel uncomfortable when that happens on a date. At least this time, I’m dating someone important enough to warrant an autograph.”

Lucia twisted her fork in her pasta, pulling out a steaming bite. “Right. Like I’m going to believe you’ve never dated a celebrity.” Colton couldn’t stop watching her lips as she placed the bite delicately in her mouth. When her eyes met his again, she covered her mouth with a hand. “Stop watching me eat!”

He averted his gaze, grabbing a slice of pizza. “No, I’ve never dated a celebrity. I spend so much time prepping for the season that I don’t have much time for dating at all.”

“But so many of your teammates have partners. Why do they have time but you don’t?”

“Because they rely on me to win, so I spend most of my time outside of practice in the weight room or on the field.” He was the leader, which meant there were higher expectations resting on his shoulders.

Lucia set her fork down. “This is what I mean. We have got to work through this. Football is a team sport. You are a part of the team, you are not the team.”

Colton pondered that as they ate in silence. Remembering their earlier conversation, he asked, “What about your family?”

“It’s just me and my dad, actually.” He didn’t want to pry, so he finished off his pizza and waited to see if she’d add anything else. “My mom didn’t want kids in the first place, so there was no chance of siblings. Then, you know, I guess she couldn’t handle it all, and she left us.”

Fuck. He didn’t know what to say. How do you help someone feel better when they’ve been through something as traumatic as that?

Lucia laughed. “Yeah, that’s about how most people respond to that.”

“Fuck, Lucia, I’m so sorry. I know it’s not the same, but I lost my mom eleven years ago.” He’d hoped it would assuage some of that sadness and anger he’d seen in her eyes, but he was worried it sounded like he was trying to take hold of the conversation and focus on himself. He cursed his brief dating history, wishing he’d spent more time learning about the women he’d taken to bed so he could be better at dinner conversation.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

“I’m sorry about yours.”

They smiled at each other as they enjoyed their dinner, a comfortable silence settling over them.