“Yes.”
“Because …” I let my words hang.
“Because I wanted to get everyone off my back about having a life outside of books and baseball,” she concluded.
“There is no life outside of baseball,” I retorted.
“Exactly!” She threw her hands up in the air. “But far be it from me to get my friends to believe it. So I createdyou. And I said you lived in North Carolina. And you weren’t supposed to be real, and you weren’t supposed to show up at my school. Ever!”
It was so stupid dumb that I believed her.
“I was going to explain everything to my friends,” Brielle hurried on now that she’d found her courage. “But then Jenessa made that stupid video, and now it’s all over school. I’m dating the new, hot junior from Minnesota who plays baseball.”
“I’m hot?” I winged my eyebrow upward.
She pressed her lips together—they weren’t all puke pink either, they were . . . lips—anyway, she pushed them together and glared at me.
“K, fine.” I shook my head. “So we just tell everyone it’s a hoax.”
“And I’ll spend the rest of my high school career in the liar’s dugout. No, thank you,” Brielle pouted. She could actually pull off pouting and look cute.
“K, so, we fake break up.” I offered.
“After you just called me ‘Shortstop’ and held me all the way down the hall like I was your Cinderella?”
“You don’t strike me as a Cinderella type,” I observed.
“I’m not,” she confirmed. “I’m more like Belle with books, but throw in the Milwaukee Brewers, and you’re spot on.”
“What do you expect me to do?” I asked. No, I demanded. This wasn’t my problem. It was hers. Brielle Walters had created it, and she could clean it up.
Only there she was again, sniffing and looking away, swallowing hard and pretending she was stronger than she probably really was.
“Ok. Fine.” I lifted my hands, palms facing her, and tried to avoid hitting the broom handle with my elbow and sending it crashing to the floor again. “One week.”
“What?” She was a little breathless, and that was weirdly cute.
“We date. One week. Totally fake, but no one has to know. Then you dump me. Better you dump me than me dump you. Your brother would probably kill me.”
“He would.”
“Yeah. And I’d never make it to tryouts, let alone on the team.”
Brielle eyed me for a second, hesitating. She must have decided to say what was on her mind, but she was cautious when she did. “Reece knows you’re fake.”
I stared at her. Great. So he’d know none of this was my fault. “Then he won’t hate me,” I said aloud.
“Actually,” Brielle winced, “now he probably will hate you.”
“Why?” I drew back and scowled at her.
“Because you’re playing along. Reece hates players.”
“It’sfake!” I exclaimed. This whole thing was the dumbest thing ever.
“So, one week?” Brielle seemed to want to bring this to a conclusion.
I was all turned around by now. She could have said the closet door opened to Japan on the other side, and I’d have to seriously question if it was true or not.
