27

Kassie

We Can't Adopt

I discovered a new kink at possibly the worst time to figure one out.

Kink? Maybe that wasn't the right word. Either way, while Ryan measured cabinets, dismantled our sinks, and took away the tools from me when I tried to offer help—which was me just being nice, I didn't know what the hell he was doing—I tiptoed around him, and pretended like I wasn't trying to get an eyeful of the handyman himself.

It wasn't just that it was hot watching him work with his hands. I mean, that too, but it wasn't all that. Ryan picked up the project and it was that simple.

New kink discovered. Men following through on promises.

Setting up my art station for my early morning class, it was hard as hell to ignore my roommate, determined to break me about it.

"I'm coming up with a system of measurement right now." Zariah tapped her pencil against her chin. "From dry as a bone to how much you were salivating last night."

Was it that obvious?

"I'll schedule that eye exam if you want me to," I retorted. Even that sounded weak.

"You ordered him two extra large pizzas, Kass"

"Yeah, Z. He ripped nails out of our walls." I wrinkled my nose. "And I ordered him those super protein pizzas he likes with no cheese."

"Uh-huh."

"If anything, that's a punishment."

Zariah leaned forward, smug. "He looked very unhappy."

My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I had a pretty good idea who was hitting me up before I even checked.

Mr. Intense: PICKING UP SANDWICHES

Mr. Intense: WHAT DO YOU AND ZARIAH WANT

But did my roommate deserve a sandwich? I gave her a long look before I sighed and passed Zariah my phone.

"Huh." She made a noise at the back of her throat. "Very unhappy indeed."

"Do you want a sandwich or not?" I muttered.

Zariah typed her order as quick as she could, and while I texted mine, she sat back on her chair. "Kass, can we please keep him?"

"He's a foster dog," I reminded her. "Remember that."

"We can adopt him."

"No. We can't."

"But he's hot ."

I sighed. Couldn't argue with that.

"He's sweet, " Zariah added, like she was trying to sell me my own fake boyfriend.

"When he wants to be." A grin crossed my face, thinking about practice just a couple of hours ago. "You didn't see how many times he made Adam run around the track when he accidentally set off firecrackers for a prank."

"Kass." Zariah stretched back in her seat. "Do you know how much football baby mamas make?"

My mouth fell open and I shut it just as fast.

"It's a lucrative job!"

"Oh my god." I ignored that little voice at the back of my head, purring at the thought. "Z, you're forgetting a couple of things here." When she tried to talk over me, I shook my head. "One, I signed a contract not to fuck him. And that's a pretty important step to having his kids. Don't look at me like that. Two, I'm leaving at the end of the semester. And three…three…"

Shit. What is three?

"He's got a huge tongue," Zariah answered for me.

I gave her a hard look. " Three, we're just not…compatible. I want someone I can draw with. Someone who creates things. All of this is so important to me and I need someone who sees it like that too. Ryan's idea of art is the Xs and Os on a football playbook. I'm not having his kids."

"There's… other ways you can be compatible…legs apart kind of compatibility…"

"Uh-huh." I rolled my eyes. "You want to be a screenwriter. Would you get serious with a guy who didn't give a shit about movies?"

Zariah was quiet for a long moment, and when I got her attention again, she had to admit defeat. That lasted only a minute before her curls bounced as she perked up again.

"I didn't say marry him, I said have his baby—"

"That's definitely her," a voice carried over the classroom. Five guys stood by the door frame, clearly not art students. The stiff suits were a dead giveaway. The combed-back, slick hair was another.

Four of them made quick time over to us except a single guy who kept his distance. "I'm not getting close, bro." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I like Marrs Manwhore parties."

I shifted back to Zariah. "Please tell me they're here for you."

"Five attractive men? Wow, I wish."

The first guy dragged a chair to me and flipped it around, sitting on it backward. "You're Ryan Cross's girlfriend. You're Kassie." He drew back for a second. "And I'm not touching you. That's against the rules, I get it."

"I hope you're not going around, touching random people," I shot back.

"I'm full KYU support," he said, linking together words that meant absolutely nothing to me. "Oklahoma blood. But there's a wager if Ryan's going for the draft and we're talking about a lot of money on the line. I'm willing to make you a lucrative offer. I just want to know if Ryan's going for the draft and you'll get half ."

His other finance dorks crept close, trying to smile encouragingly at me. A pack of wolves.

I couldn't keep the look of disgust off my face if I wanted to. Since I'd become Ryan's fake girlfriend, it was insane to think about the amount of people who came up to demand information about him or make weirdo comments or just trash-talk the team.

"Half," one of the guys repeated.

"I'm so lucky. Half? " The edge was back in my voice. "What a great proposal. I'm overwhelmed."

Every cell in my body wanted to tell them a flat no—of course Ryan isn't going for the draft—so they could lose all of daddy's money. They didn't even give a shit about him or the Romans. They just wanted to make a buck. The look on their faces would be priceless alone when they saw their bank accounts, after Ryan's declaration for the draft.

Telling them to put their money up would be hilarious.

Except, I could clearly hear Ryan's words, low and throaty, telling me that people could be recording and all that.

He could get in trouble .

I took a deep breath. "It sounds an awful lot like…you're bartering my boyfriend up for a meat market."

"What?" The closest guy wavered. "It's football."

"I forgot - are we racing towards the end zone here?"

One of the other guys tried to push through. "You haven't even seen the amount we're discussing."

"And I haven't seen you with a suit that doesn't hang off your wrists," I snapped. "Find a pair of scissors, tailor that shit so you don't look like a three-year-old at a funeral. Eat. Shit."

The smiles melted off their faces. With short looks between them, they finally left the class.

Ugh. I could've handled that better.

"I thought you were going to unleash the beast, Kass," Zariah whispered.

I sighed. "Maybe I do have a temper. Maybe the design department isn't that far off."

"That was tame for you though."

"But it's not good enough." I put my head in my hands. "I don't like how they talk about Ryan. It's ridiculous. They don't see how hard he works."