“There.” I stepped back and looked at my work. His hair was now tousled to after-sex perfection.
He glanced in the standing mirror I had next to the wall. “Looks perfect.” Striding toward the door again, he turned the lock and opened the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
I rested my hip against my desk. “Sounds good.”
He walked out, closing my door behind him. I heard him say goodbye to Harper before the front door clicked shut.
I kept standing next to my desk for several seconds, replaying our entire interaction. Him bringing me his jersey, him telling me about his mom, and then of course the not-sex. The number of emotions I had gone through in such a short amount of time was akin to a roller coaster.
Walking over to my bed, I fell back looking up at the ceiling. The main emotion I was feeling now was confusion. I had been so sure I could do the fake dating thing. But now here I was, having the hots for my friend. That couldn’t be a good sign. We hadn’t even officially started our fake relationship. That was tomorrow. And then how would I handle the physical stuff without getting way too excited about it?
The only thing I had going for me right now was that I was pretty sure I didn’t like him as more than a friend, that what I was feeling for him was mainly all physical. That had to count for something, right? And when I said I’m pretty sure, I meant I thought that was true. I actually had no idea. I cared about Slate a lot, but that didn’t automatically mean I was crushing on him. He’d been a great friend, someone I could count on, and had been there for me when I had been lost and alone. I really didn’t want to mess anything up between us. We were good together, things were easy, we could both just be ourselves and laugh and have fun. I was determined to not let this dumb fake-dating ruin our friendship. I’d just have to try harder to keep a tight rein on my hormones.
If he wasn’t so sexy, all of this would be so much easier. Dang him and his sexy chin dimple and his sculpted muscles and his hypnotizing blue eyes and his—okay, I needed to stop.
I also needed to remember that although yes, I was sure Slate could give me an unbelievable one-night stand, that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted a relationship with somebody that was more than only physical. I wanted a deep connection with someone, a guy that I could connect with emotionally, intellectually, and then yes, physically. There was a lot more to a relationship than sex, and I didn’t want to settle. I’d realized in the past month how much I’d settled with Josh, and I didn’t want to do that again. Slate and I had different priorities, and that’s okay when you’re friends, but it makes things way too complicated and messy in a relationship.
Not that I needed to worry about ever being in a relationship with Slate, but it was a good thing to remember. Slate and I worked as friends and nothing more. And I was okay with that, truly. I needed a friend right now way more than I needed a boyfriend.
Soon this fake dating would be behind us, and we’d both look back and laugh at how ridiculous it all was.
My phone pinged, and the first thought I had was that I hoped it was Slate. Grabbing my phone, the text message on the screen read that it was indeed from Slate.
I couldn’t help the smile that stretched wide across my face or deny the fluttering feeling in my stomach.
Crap.
I was screwed. And not in the good way.
9
Slate
Rummaging through the rack of jerseys with my name and number on it, I finally found a size small. Holding it out, the navy jersey with the gold number thirteen looked like it would fit Isla perfectly. Maybe even a little too perfectly. Did I want it clinging to her curves? Yes. That was an easy answer. But did I want everyone else seeing those curves? No.
Shaking my head, I made my way to the checkout counter. Why should I care who noticed her sexy bod? I would just be one of many guys who would be checking her out, and that was totally fine. Completely and totally fine.
Placing the jersey on the counter, I pulled out my wallet. The tall blonde behind the counter rang up the jersey and then batted her eyelashes at me. “Hi, Slate.”
“Hello,” I said politely, not tacking on my usual word ‘beautiful’ onto the end of my greeting.
“I’m looking forward to watching you play this weekend.” She folded the jersey and placed it into a plastic bag.
I tapped my credit card on the card reader and smiled. “The team always plays better with lots of fans.”
She handed me the bag. “I’m definitely a fan.”
As I grabbed the bag, she made sure our hands touched and said in a flirty tone, “My shift ends at two, if you want to get together sometime later today.”
Taking the bag from her, I said, “I’m flattered by the offer, but I don’t think my girlfriend would be too happy about that.”
The lie rolled easily off my tongue, and I was surprised I hadn’t choked on the word girlfriend. Although technically Isla was a girl and a friend, so was I really lying?
A look of disbelief crossed the girl’s face. “So it’s true? You really do have a girlfriend?”
“Yep.” I held up the bag I was holding. “This jersey is for her. And,” I glanced at my watch. “I’m on my way to go see her now, so I’d better get going. Thanks.” I gave her a nod and walked out of the university store, leaving the girl staring after me in shock.
News may have traveled fast about Isla and me dating, but obviously people were questioning it, which meant Isla and I were going to have to give one hell of a show to get everyone to believe us.
