“You’re insane.”
“Insanely genius,” Clay argued, resting his elbows on the table between us as he leaned toward me. It was almost comical, how massive his arms were compared to the tiny table, which wobbled precariously on its thin legs as it took his weight.
“I… it’s just… absurd.”
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, cold fingertips brushing my hot cheeks as I uncrossed my legs just to cross them the other way. I then crossed my arms over my chest, all body language pointing to how uncomfortable I was with this conversation and the proposal in it.
I was here to coach Clay Johnson how to be better with the media after his breakup — which had thus far been agonizing not only for him, but for the entire team.
I was not here for him to tease me about my crush on Shawn Stetson, or to con me into some ridiculous fake relationship to get his attention.
“Look, G,” Clay said.
“Giana,” I corrected.
“I’m a guy, and as a guy, I know what guys want. At least — most, straight, sane guys. And I’m telling you. That guy?” He pointed a finger at where Shawn was playing his set on stage at the little coffee shop we were at. “He wants a woman of mystery, one who can be his muse, who will be a little hard to get, a little out of his league.”
My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull before I covered Clay’s gargantuan finger with both my hands and shoved it down, quickly glancing at Shawn to make sure he hadn’t seen.
“I can have him eating out of the palm of your hand by Thanksgiving.”
“He barely knows I exist,” I said, voice barely a whisper.
“Another thing I can help with,” he said, sweeping a large hand over himself. “Do you think anyone on this campus could ignore the girl who has Clay Johnson’s attention?”
I rolled my eyes at the cocky insinuation, but couldn’t argue against his point.
It was true.
That massive hunk of muscle and those piercing green eyes had been off the market since Clay walked onto North Boston University’s campus — much to every girl’s dismay. And while he’d been a miserable prick since he and Maliyah broke up, the groupies that followed the team around like flies were begging for even a taste of his affection.
Still…
“He’s a musician,” I pointed out. “He probably couldn’t care less about football.”
Just then, Shawn finished the song he’d been playing, and after strumming his guitar a few times, he spoke right into the mic and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity here with us tonight. Clay Johnson, NBU’s best safety and a shoe in for the NFL. Make sure to get your autographs while you can.”
Clay held up a hand in a humble wave, and then pointed a seductive smirk and wink at the girls who freaked out and turned his way, all quietly whispering to their friends and nudging one another like they were picking straws over who would try to talk to him first.
“Any requests, man?” Shawn asked next.
Clay eyed me with that damn smirk still securely in place. “How about Just Say Yes by Snow Patrol?”
I rolled my eyes again, and as Shawn began to play, Clay leaned in even closer.
“Are you out of arguments yet?”
I sighed. “So, let me get this straight. We would be in a fake relationship, in which you, hypothetically, would help me get Shawn, and I…” I blinked, coming up blank. “Would do what, exactly? I mean… what’s in this for you?”
A shadow of something washed over his face then, and he sat back, shrugging a bit before he drank half his beer in one gulp. “Maliyah.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I know my girl,” he said, his eyes more determined than I’d ever seen — and that was saying something, because I’d seen him power down the field for an impossible interception more than a few times. “I know that she still loves me, still wants me, but thinks there’s something better out there. She’s always wanted the best. It’s just part of who she is.”
I had to fight to keep my lip from curling at how he made all of that sound like a good quality.
“But when she sees me with someone else, when she thinks I’ve moved on?” He shook his head with a devilish smile. “That green monster will get her. She’ll be begging to get me back.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know, Clay… I don’t know if I want to play these games.”
“Trust me — everyone plays them. So, if you’re not playing — no, if you’re not winning?” He shrugged. “You’re losing.”
I chewed my lip, eyes skirting to where Shawn strummed his guitar on stage. My heart did a backflip just like it always did when his gaze washed over me, even though it was so quick I barely registered the color of his golden eyes before they were gone again.
All my life, I’d been too scared to go for what I wanted — I was the exact opposite of Maliyah, of Clay, of everyone I worked with on the team.
I was content to be in the background.
But now, for the first time, I found myself yearning for the spotlight.
And for a freaking boyfriend.
Uncrossing my legs, I leaned forward, folding my hands together on the table. “We need terms. Conditions. Rules.”
When a smooth tilt of Clay’s lips was his only response, I wondered just how much trouble I was getting myself into.
