Wyatt looks down at me and smiles fully. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“Hey, personally I like it, but you almost took out that girl back there. Has the staring always been this bad for you?”
He shrugs. “You get used to it.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say under my breath.
“Hey, if it becomes too much, tell me. I’ll tell them to leave you alone. The last thing I want is people bothering you while trying to get to me. You’re my girl now. I protect what’s mine.”
Those words send a shiver down my spine. I know it’s all for show, but fuck if I don’t want that. It’s crazy how I went from accepting the scraps Kyle was leaving for me to being fully immersed in a fake relationship that feeds my soul somehow.
Too bad it’s too late about people bothering me. While I don’t think strangers will bother me too much, I know my old crew will, and that’s not something he needs to deal with. No, my old friends are my responsibility, and I’ll handle them when I have to.
“Do you have class this afternoon?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I do. I have a sports nutrition class.”
“Then you have practice?” I probe.
Wyatt nods. “Yeah, we work out in the morning as a team, or those of us who don’t have a class at the time, and then we have practice in the afternoon.”
So it’s the opposite of the football guys, but I don’t tell him that.
Wyatt pulls me to the side and we stop in front of the building my next class is in.
“How did you know where I needed to go?” I look over to him.
“Like I said, I have my ways.”
“I have a feeling you know a lot more than you let on,” I mutter, making him smile.
Wyatt leans down and kisses my cheek, next to the corner of my mouth. “Have a good day. I’ll talk to you later, sweetheart.”
As he walks away, I can’t help but shake my head as my thoughts echo from earlier.
If this is how Wyatt Scott is when he’s fake dating, I’d hate to know how good he is when it’s real.
Coach blows the whistle, and the guys come to a stop. Groaning, I stand up straight, stretching my back out. Even though I’m still in my early twenties, there are days that I feel like I’m in my sixties after spending hours in the net.
“That’s what I like to see, boys. Keep it up, and we just might bring the trophy home at the end of the season. Make sure you ice and talk to the trainers if you need help before heading out,” Coach says.
Kellan glides up next to me as we leave the ice. “You were looking good out there.”
He nudges my shoulder, making me wince.
“Thanks. You too,” I tell him.
“I’m fucking starving,” Pender groans as we step into the locker room.
“I told you that you should have eaten before practice,” Calvin tells him.
I sit down on the bench and start working on my laces as I listen to everyone chatter around me. The team is used to me not contributing to the conversation.
“Hey, the guys texted. They want us to call when we get home,” Kellan tells me.
I grunt, letting him know I heard him.
The last thing I want to do is a video call with the guys, but I know it needs to be done. Shit, I’m lucky that they’ve held off as long as they have. Hell, now that I think about it, I’m surprised that Grace and Peyton haven’t dropped by to ask what the fuck is happening.
