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My dad hummed, as if only just now considering the implications. “You’re probably right. But the rest of it is still a good idea.”
“Dad. This isn’t—”
He forged on, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Charles also has a list of up-and-coming actresses and models willing to be seen with you.”
“Willing to— What does—”
“You know what I mean, Hunter,” he sighed, pushing his plate away. “I really don’t.” Under the table, I clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palm, the sting grounding me.
There was no way he could know.
The guys I’d been with either knew the deal or were completely anonymous hookups. Devin was the only exception, though I didn’t think he was ever going to admit to what had happened between us.
My dad stared at me for a few long beats, running his finger in a circle over the tablecloth. “You’re twenty-three years old. Good looking. And I have never once heard about you with a woman.” He took a sip of his whiskey, eyeing me over the rim of the glass. “You keep that up, son, and people are going to wonder. Maybe start asking questions.”
A high-pitched ringing sounded in my ears, like the seconds after a hit you hadn’t seen coming, and in my lap, my hands began to tingle, a cold sheen of sweat breaking out along my hairline.
I made myself breathe how I’d taught Mikey to—in for four, hold, out for four, hold—trying to push the panic down.
There was no way he could know.
“That’s not true,” I said after I’d managed to get control of myself. “You remember … uh …” I paused, trying to remember the fake girlfriend I’d pulled out of my ass junior year when my mom kept asking if I was seeing anyone. Was it Rachel? Rosie? Fuck. What was her goddamn name?
“Uh, Riley,” I recalled finally.
He leaned back in his seat, his mouth turned down in a frown. “Right. The Riley we never met, despite you claiming she was ‘the one.’” He used his fingers to make air quotes. “The same Riley who was conveniently away during Parents’ Weekend.”
Fuck. That was right. Mom kept insisting on meeting her, asking about getting lunch with her parents. I remembered now that I’d concocted some bullshit story about her needing to go home for a family emergency. What else had I said? Shit. I really couldn’t remember.
Think of something, asshole!
“Look, I didn’t want to say anything, but it turns out she was banging some finance major at BU that whole weekend, so.” I shrugged, turning my face away, my dinner dangerously close to making a reappearance.
“Hmm,” he hummed, his shoulders relaxing fractionally. “Okay.”
I didn’t know if he believed me, or if he’d simply chosen to let it go, but I didn’t really care as long as we could stop talking about it.
He picked up his glass again, circling it under his nose and inhaling. “Find a girl, Hunter” he began again. “Any girl. It doesn’t matter. There’s gotta be some clout chaser or bunny in this city you think is hot?”
I shrugged, slumping down in my seat. It wasn’t the complete pivot I was hoping for, but it was enough that I could play my part.
“I dunno. I’m not really on social media. I could ask one of the guys.”
“Don’t bother. Charles will sort it all out.” He downed the rest of his drink in one final gulp, swallowing with a wince. “You need to be smart, Hunter.”
The problem was I wasn’t smart. I was a goddamn idiot who’d fallen for my teammate.
Again.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
He grunted, thankfully moving on after that, talking about some F1 team he was thinking about investing in. I made all the sounds I was supposed to make, said all the things he expected me to say.
When he eventually excused himself to go to the restroom, I sagged in my seat. I’d dodged a bullet, but it was only a matter of time until the comments about my love life started up again.
Briefly, I wondered if I could create another fake girlfriend in a city on the other side of the country.
It might work …
