43

Kassie

Oh No

The escape plan had been a hurried, jumbled mess but at least it was better than having to face the quarterback head-on. Ryan crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation. An explanation that I had to give with clammy hands.

"I'm not good at this," I finally said.

Ryan stared down at me. "What are you talking about? Good at what?"

"All of it. Every—every bit of it. I'm sorry. I know you wanted to wait until December, but I think we both got what we wanted out of this." I tried to bypass him but he wasn't having any of that. "We can move the breakup date and that's that. Real simple."

"What did my mom say to you?"

She invited me to Christmas.

"Nothing! Your mom is probably the kindest person I've ever met and she loves you a lot and—and—" I can't lie to her . "I'm not good at this, Ryan. I'm not like you!"

"Good at what? " he asked, dumbfounded.

Oh my god, was he serious? It was the obvious answer in the world.

"Putting on the front! Performing the schitck—doing this whole thing!" That wasn't it though. That was only the first item on the checklist of things I personally sucked at. "I don't know shit about football. I get more now but I'm not a step behind the other girlfriends, I'm like cities away, states away from them. Ryan, I'm not like them. I'm not blonde and perfect and—"

"I told you to stop reading those comments."

A harsh breath tore out of me. "It's not just the comments, Ryan. People come up and say it."

"You're supposed to tell me when that happens."

"So you'll what? Beat them up? How does that help out with the image?" I snapped my fingers, counting another thing. "Oh my god—I curse all the time in the stadium. I don't mean to, it just happens. And I curse at the interviewers. And the reporters. And to all the goddamn people who come up to me and say shit about you, in class, out on campus, at the donor events. It drives me up the fucking wall. They talk about you like you're a piece of meat." I had to look away from him. My stomach clenched too badly. "Like you're not a person."

It was quiet in the meeting room. I refused to look at him.

"And your mom doesn't know," I finished, swallowing hard.

I could see Ryan shift on his back leg in the corner of my vision. "It's not like I didn't want to tell her, Kassie. But we're under a nondisclosure agreement."

"Oh my god, Ryan." I sighed. "You told Adam and King about the fake relationship. I told Zariah. Nobody died. But that's not even what I'm talking about—"

"You what? " Ryan strode up to me, cutting the distance between us. Sometimes, I could forget how tall he was—how big he was—but I couldn't ignore it with him inches away. He dropped his voice. "Adam and King knowing is different than some sophomore. You told Zariah? "

"I had to tell her something ."

"You could've told her you were dating me, goddammit."

"She wouldn't have believed that in a million years!" I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. "That's not even the big one that's tripping me up—your family doesn't know you're leaving . That's what I can't believe."

I wanted him to refute it, to say that was crazy, but Ryan was silent.

"Why?" I whispered.

He shifted on his back leg. "When I was a freshman, I sent her an email about the Romans' mascot change and she accidentally forwarded it to a reporter. We're keeping it quiet right now and I can't be sure—"

"This isn't just a mascot design. You're her kid. And you're leaving ."

"It's not like that, Kassie."

" How? "

"Kassie—"

"How could you do that to her?"

"Kassie," he said, his voice firm. "I'm getting drafted to a professional team, They've always known this could happen. I'm not abandoning them. I'm not your parents."

The silence was so heavy, it weighed down on me. You give someone a private piece of information and they throw it back in your face. I could feel the retorts on my tongue, things to launch at Ryan too, but I could barely breathe.

"You don't get to talk about that," I whispered.

He gazed at me, silent.

"You don't get to break that out." I struggled to swallow. "You're just some guy I make out with in front of cameras."

Slowly, he nodded. "Okay."

It'd been so long since I'd even thought about that. Telling him in the car was a slip-up in a vulnerable moment, Zariah didn't even know about that. I struggled to keep myself together. For the first time in a long time, panic welled up inside of me.

Oh. Shit.

"You—you're right," I realized, my voice small. "This is…your situation. It has nothing to do with me. I'm…I'm sorry. "

"It's alright."

This was too heavy and too much. I had no experience with anything like it and I was so out of my depth. So out of it in general.

"This is exactly my point." I stepped away. "I'm not good at this, Ryan. We should cut ties now. That's that."

"That's not what I said."

"Yeah, but that's what I'm saying."

Ryan easily stepped closer until he leaned over me, so close, my heart leaped to my throat. I didn't know what to tell him anymore. I said my piece. That was supposed to be it.

"You can't leave," he told me, his voice firm.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to go."

My eyes dropped to my sneakers. "I can't lie to your mom. She asked me what day we're driving up for Christmas."

"I know."

"She—she told you and you didn't tell me? You didn't prepare me?"

"Kassie, she's always been on my case about bringing someone home—"

"And what?" I pushed. "I'm your get-out-of-jail-free card for mom questions? Why are you putting that on me?" I shook my head. "No—I'm sorry. We can say the break-up was my fault. I couldn't hack it."

His reply was automatic. "I'll double your salary."

"I don't want your money."

"I'll get you out of Roman Forest."

"Ryan, I don't need that. It's my last time living with Zariah."

He placed a hand on the desk next to me. "You can sit in your own private area in the stadium," he insisted. "I'll hire security for campus."

"Ryan—"

"What do you want? " His dark honey eyes were locked on me and he never looked away. "What can I give you?"

"Nothing," I whispered.

In meetings, Ryan was always so professional, always the first one with an answer and the first one with a solution. Without that, he clearly didn't know what to do. And I couldn't help him. The fake relationship thing was too much and I didn't know how much more of it that I could handle.

Ryan needs an actual football girlfriend .

"Do you want me to beg?" he asked softly. "Do you want me on my knees?"

I had nothing to say to that because my brain had effectively stopped working. Maybe he was being facetious, or maybe he was digging around for anything to keep up the charade, I had no idea. My breathing slowed, watching him.

Oh no.

I like Ryan .

I liked how grumpy he was and how he stilled for me any time he caught me sketching him so he wouldn't ruin the drawings and I liked the cologne he wore and how he'd bark at his teammates and how he could jerk back and talk in the gentlest voice to me, five seconds later, and how he kissed me and—goddammit—all of that scared me.

" Shit, " I whispered under my breath and sank into the nearest chair.

If anything, that was even more reason to end it.

Before anyone got hurt.

Ryan stuck to his word and got on his knees, still trying to talk while I was halfway through a spiral.

"Kassie? Look at me."

"I'm sorry, I—"

He captured my chin between his fingers, tilting me to meet his eyes. "Do you know what the difference is? Between us and King and June?"

That could've been anything but the softness in Ryan's voice made me hesitate. He was genuinely asking me. What was I supposed to say?

"Um…June's a homecoming queen?" I suggested.

"The difference is King isn't content with the arrangement. He wants more."

"With…June?"

"No. Not like that. But King didn't expect it to last this long and he wants something else now." Ryan took a deep breath. "Art girl, that's the difference between us and them. He's not content. I am."

My heart thumped so loud in my chest, I was sure he could hear it.

"You don't think you're good at this, you are," he insisted. "My jersey's sales are up two hundred and twelve percent across the board, every time they use your name as a merchandise code, it breaks numbers, and—you know? Fuck it. I'm happy."

I needed to hold on to my resolve but I could already feel it slipping away. "Oh."

"There's no one else I'd rather do this with," he admitted.

Am I going to agree to this?

Because if I was, I wasn't agreeing to it because of the jersey sales. The only reason I'd continue with this was for Ryan's sake. The only thing keeping me signed on was the grumpy football player who everybody wanted to parade around in a glass box.

The man with the dark honey eyes, who only talked tenderly to me.

I'm a goner for a guy I can't even get into bed .

"Um…" I needed to come up with some kind of timeline. Because I knew I couldn't make it until the end of the semester. "What about until the weekend?"

"The weekend?"

"It…gives us time to get all the last-minute jersey sales done."

He paused. "Until Louisiana."

He was talking about the five-day trip where the football team would leave campus and head off to a whole other state. Great. Part of me wanted to push for the weekend, it was so much sooner, but I couldn't. Not with him so close.

"Fine."

He nodded. "Good."

As simple as that, it was done. I had a couple more weeks of being a football player's girlfriend, and then the crowds would leave, and the weird questions from passerbyers about the size of Ryan's dick could vanish into thin air. We'd both be better off. And I wouldn't have to sit with this uncomfortable crush, like a sleeping paralysis demon at the edge of my bed.

Ryan pushed himself up to a standing position and held out his hand.

I took it and ignored the twinge in my chest. "You're real good at that, by the way."

"Good at what?"

"Getting people rallied for the game." I drew my hand away from him and walked to the door, adding another couple of feet between us. "You're a good team captain."