Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I opened my mouth in shock and cast a harried glance as the walls started closing in. Literally. Gus and Anna were three feet away on my left. Gus was high-fiving a rabid AVP fan and on my right…Braden was making his way over with Tucker, Colby, and Sky. I couldn’t gauge his expression in the melee. He didn’t look upset, though. Just curious.
A bead of sweat formed on my upper lip. I licked at it before rounding on Sophie. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I can’t—”
“Hey, Team Love and Pride! Woohoo!” Gus raised his hand and gave high-fives to everyone standing in our growing circle. “The photographer and videographer are on their way over. We don’t have to overdo the PDA, but definitely feel free to kiss and you know, make it clear that you’re together.”
“We’re not together,” I hissed.
“You are now.” Gus narrowed his eyes sharply. “Don’t fuck this up, Newcombe. You’ve known the plan for a fucking month. I okayed all this with you. You don’t have to fuck the guy, but you have to pretend you like him. We have a major tournament this weekend, and I want all eyes on us. I want the press to be so fucking in love with us that for two weeks after, we’re still headline news. This is the kind of thing that brings awareness. It’s a good message, a fun message.…All you have to do is play volleyball. Let everyone start talking among themselves. They’ll do all the PR work for us while we kick ass on the sand. Get it?”
“But it’s not true. He’s still my ex,” I whispered angrily.
“Pretend he’s not. Sophie said you were sucking face six weeks ago. It can’t be that tough for you. It’s not like you have someone else. Or do you?”
“What’s wrong?” Braden asked, coming to my side.
“Nothing at all,” Gus said brightly. “Elliot and I were just talking logistics for this weekend. Oh, hey. The photographer is here. Pics now. Let’s go.”
I ducked behind Colby, hoping to give myself a small window to talk to Braden. I had a minute or less to explain the runaway train I’d somehow signed off on.
“It’s a publicity stunt,” I whispered in Braden’s ear. “Sophie asked Drew to make a surprise appearance and—fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Shh. What does that mean?”
He sounded relatively calm, which I took as a good sign. “He’s supposed to be around all weekend at the tournament, posing as my boyfriend.”
“Oh.”
“I know. Gus wants this to blow up into some big PR thing, so we get press and maybe more sponsorship after the Manhattan Beach Open. He said he told me, but he didn’t tell me. I only knew about Anna.”
Braden bit his bottom lip. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t mean to mess this up for you.”
“I’m the one who messed up, but I can fix it. I just…” I licked my lips nervously. Fuck, I didn’t know where to start. I couldn’t ask him to have a coming-out moment in front of a camera in a roomful of strangers, could I?
He squeezed my elbow gently and stepped aside. “I understand. Just…do your job.”
I shook my head and swallowed hard. Gus was waving at me and motioning toward Sophie who looked like she was about to explode. They wanted me to fall in line and go along with the program. Everything in me screamed that this was all wrong. The only way out was to tell the truth.
“Bray, what if we told them about us?” I whispered.
Silence. I looked to where he’d been standing a moment ago…but he was gone.
In a strange twist, it turned out that I was a decent actor. My heart had vacated the premises, but my body remembered how to go through the motions. I made small talk with volleyball enthusiasts, suffered through countless photos and tried to stick to conversations about my sport. I figured avoidance was my best option. And I was damn good at it. Everything in me wanted to run after Braden and say…what? Let me be your person? Yeah, that was what I wanted, but I was a chickenshit.
And if I required any extra proof, the butterflies in my stomach went into overdrive when I turned the key to our apartment later that night. I didn’t know what I’d find. I didn’t know if he’d be mad or hurt or if he’d be home at all. Please be home, please be home.
“Hey,” he greeted me softly.
Braden stood in the kitchen with his arms wrapped around himself, as if to ward off a chill. For some reason, I had a flashback to the afternoon he came by to see the apartment. I was the one in the kitchen, hoping he’d like the place and would want to stay for a few months. And now…I wanted so much more.