“All right. I’ll check it out. Thanks.” I nodded at him and went farther into the dive bar. I recognized her low, raspy voice the second I walked in. I headed straight toward it. She sat on the stool, holding an old guitar and singing with her eyes closed. She looked so goddamn peaceful and beautiful. I clenched my teeth thinking about last weekend and the shit she’d pulled. I still wasn’t over it and the thought of what could’ve happened had me clenching my fists.
We had hung out since then, but she was my soft spot. Everyone knew she was my weakness. For the polyamorous athlete, no one compared to Greta. No one fucked with her, either. It wasn’t because she was timid or weak. No. It was the opposite. She understood me. And very few did.I can’t ask her to ruin her life. I can’t. Not for me.
I found an empty chair at the bar and watched her. Sure, she’d had a rough couple of weeks, but her life was still on track. She needed to give up the fucking ridiculous notion of finding love.Love.Ugh. It came too close to jealousy and hate—two emotions I refused to feel.
She finished playing, the small crowd all clapping for her. “Thanks, guys. I’m going to take a break.”
I whistled at her, her soft brown eyes finding mine. I waved, pathetically, at her and she bee-lined for me. “G-spot.”
“A-a-ron.” Her toothy grin eased some of the tension currently growing in my stomach. “You’re rocking the troubled skater-boy look today.”
I looked down, noticing I’d never changed. I wore dark fitted jeans and a thrasher shirt. I shrugged. “Your voice sounded amazing.”
She avoided my eyes, a blush tinging her cheeks. “Thanks, man. It was weird. Clyde insisted on me playing once the band stunk it up. I mean, shit. It’s a Saturday night. No one was here.” She sucked her bottom lip, twirling the end of her long ponytail in her fingers. Two gestures I knew well. She felt uncomfortable. “I don’t even know how long I played. It felt good. It felt really good being up there.”
“Will you play again?”
“You know, I don’t know.” She glanced over at Clyde and frowned. “He said he wanted to discuss something with me before I leave for the night. Maybe I will. I’m not too worried. Want a pitcher of beer? It is our buy one, get one for a penny night. My brilliant idea, I might add.”
I shook my head. “I came to talk to you.”
“Ronnie, I’ve been on my best behavior since last weekend. I wasn’t lying to you when I said I deleted everything.” She rubbed her chest, her neck tensing. “Why do you look irritated?”
I sighed, double-checking no one stood too close to us. “Shit hit the fan today.” I paused, the tightening in my chest returning. I bounced on my feet, unable to sit still. She glared at me, eyes wide.
“Well?”
“Uh, someone, some girl, wrote some shit about me on Instagram. She put up pictures of me. Drinking, nudes, sex. You name it.” My throat clogged, my fingers clenching around the edge of the bar. “My coach called me in and…I could be fucked. He’s meeting with people to find out what it means for me and my future.”
Her head jerked back. Her mouth fell open, no sound coming out. “Aaron.”
We shared a look. She blinked. Her bottom lip trembled and I saw how my pain hurt her.How the fuck could I bring her into my mess?
“I’m at a loss right now. Are the pictures real?”
“Some, yeah. Snapchat screen-shots. I’m positive it’s not me in the sex ones. My face isn’t in the pictures, but with all the other shit I did, it’s not far off.”
“Holy shit.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and lifted her chin higher. “What can we do? Your coach is a genius. He had to think of something.”
“We came up with a plan today. It sucks. But it’s a start.” I lowered my voice, hating myself for doing this. “I’m not sure it’ll work. Maybe.”
“What’s the plan? Stop stalling.” Red broke out on her neck. It was time. I could either ruin the best relationship I had in my life or risk losing my future. She’d end up hating me—there was no way around that—but she was my only option. Who else could I trust to do this? Who else cared enough about me to do this?
No one. It was her. Just her.
Family. Money. Baseball.
I said the words, loathing everything I had become. They came out choppy, unemotional and broken. “Will you be my girlfriend for six months?”
Chapter Three
Greta
What? What did he just say?
“Come again?” I blew out a long, shuddering breath.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. With a strained voice, he repeated the words I thought I’d heard incorrectly. “Will you be my fake girlfriend?”
