The Fake Zone: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Oleander Springs Series Book 3)

“My bra isn’t showing, is it?” Evelyn asks, craning to see her back in the mirror.

I cap my mascara and thoroughly inspect her lavender dress covered in intricate lace patterns that looks like it came from the pages of a fantasy romance novel. It’s stunning, and on her it’s even more gorgeous. “Nope. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Hudson’s going to make an excuse to cut out early tonight.”

She grins. “I already told him we’re not leaving until you and Grey do.”

I look at my reflection again. “Do I look okay?” Cruel words are still at the forefront of my thoughts as I question if my blush is too dark or my mascara too heavy.

“Better than okay. You look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine,” Evelyn assures me, taking in my emerald green gown that has intricately woven beads patterning the bodice and front panel of the skirt and then flows into solid matte for the rest of the skirt.

My lungs feel tight, and though I want to blame it on the weight and constriction of the bodice, I know that has nothing to do with the dress. I’m nervous, and I can’t put my finger on why. Is it because pretending to date Grey feels like a minefield, or am I simply dreading seeing Emma again?

“I’m here!” Hudson yells up the stairs.

My stomach falls to my knees, realizing it’s nearly time to leave.

Evelyn smiles. “You look a little nervous…”

“I don’t know how to act or what to do. The last time I went on a formal date was prom, and this isn’t a real date.”

“It’s Grey. Just be you.”

“Am I supposed to hold his hand? Are we going to have to dance? What about small talk? When you make small talk with a couple, they always share bits of their history. One talks about the beginning, the other mentions a funny detail, and then the initial one corrects them … Grey and I will fail epically at small talk. We have no stories.”

Evelyn raises her eyebrows as a smile forms on her face. “You guys have known each other for two and a half years. You have stories.”

“I’ve never been someone’s fake girlfriend. I don’t have much experience being a real girlfriend.”

She laughs as the doorbell rings again.

I turn off the bathroom lights and follow Evelyn downstairs, veering toward the kitchen with the excuse of needing a glass of water to avoid answering the door. I peek around the wall in time to catch Hudson’s eyes grow wide as he takes in Evelyn with adoration and a heavy dose of lust that leaves me smiling and ready to mock them both. I swallow the quips, though, and resume getting my water.

“Hey, man,” Hudson says as I take a drink.

I turn, my mouth still full, and find Hudson and Evelyn with Grey close behind, dressed in a black suit that enunciates the width of his shoulders and a light blue dress shirt that makes his sapphire eyes stand out like the first stars in the night sky as they stop on me. He looks even better than he did the night he crashed my self-date.

Emma’s going to hate me.

Grey slides his hands into his pant pockets and turns to face me. His gaze locks on mine, and for a second, that pressure in my lung grows in intensity. It feels as though he recognizes every one of my nerves, fears, and insecurities yet isn’t avoiding or placating any of them as he maintains my stare, sharing his own with me.

It reminds me of being five while living with a foster care family that had their mother living with them. She was a mean, no-nonsense kind of woman who made us eat every crumb from our plates and didn’t tolerate any noise after eight. She was Polish and would watch movies in the living room every night in Polish, and we were forced to sit still and listen silently.

I marveled how, despite not knowing what they were saying at different points in the films, I could still understand what was happening. That’s how I feel now like Grey is a foreign film without any closed captions, and still, I’m able to recognize his nerves, hope, and the hint of an apology.

I smile, which breaks the spell and has Grey returning the look before his gaze lowers, taking in the full length of my gown before tracking back to my face.

“Do I look like a Christmas tree?” I ask, my voice teasing and light.

Humor doesn’t hit his features, though, as he slowly takes me in again, like an expensive bourbon meant to be sipped and appreciated. “You look … stunning.”

My stomach does something unrecognizable as my nerves roll to a new side, like sunbathing in the summer, exposing new nerves as I try and remind myself this is fake, a proposition, a deal. He’s Hudson’s friend.

I pull in a shallow breath.

All day, I imagined the jokes the other guys on the team would be ribbing me with and the glares and offensive words Emma would deliver with a smile. I didn’t consider these new nerves born from being attracted to him.

My heart beats unsteadily, and though fear isn’t crawling over my skin, threatening to encapsulate me, I feel the need to ground myself as I take in the sight of Hudson and Evelyn, my favorite red coat, and the chess board in the distance with a game still waiting to be finished. I latch on to the sounds of Evelyn chuckling, a car engine outside, and the clip of Hudson’s shoes against the floors. Then I raise the inside of my wrist to my nose, smelling the floral scent of my perfume, and move back into the kitchen, pouring cranberry juice into a glass so I can lift it to my nose and take in the bittersweet scent.

My heartbeat slows, and my chest feels lighter.

“Looking sharp, Atwool,” Hudson says, winking at me as he turns to open our coat closet.

I remain still, reminding myself to stay present and in the moment for another second as I watch Evelyn dig through the closet for something to wear over her dress. She hasn’t acclimated to our colder winters.

“Evelyn, wear the long black pea coat with the clasps in the front. It’s heavy and will keep you warm.”

“I can’t borrow your coat. You should wear it. It’s cold tonight.”

“I’m wearing a gray coat, with my Grey date.”

Hudson and Evelyn laugh. Grey flashes me an amused expression before Evelyn gives me an appreciative smile and reaches for the heavy wool coat. Hudson helps her thread her arms into it.

“You guys know where you’re going?” Hudson asks.

“I’m pretty sure the directions you sent said Gates to Hell. Is that right?” I set my empty glass beside the sink.

Grey rolls his eyes and talks about the fastest routes while Evelyn giggles.

There’s a reason we’re best friends.

“Remember cake,” she assures me. “They’ve had excellent catered food at the events I’ve been to.”

“Want gloves?” I ask her, reaching for my dark gray tweed coat.

She shakes her head. “No. I’ll be okay.”

I hand Hudson a pair of gloves to put in his pocket, anyway. Evelyn shakes her head.

“Ready?” Hudson looks across at us as a collective group, and we all nod and follow him to the entryway, where I set the alarm and lock the front door.

“We’ll see you guys there,” Evelyn calls before following Hudson to his Jeep.

I slip my keys into my purse and pull my jacket tighter, casting a glance at the night sky. It’s clear, stars studding the black expanse. We still haven’t received any of the snow the news has teased.

The cold mutes the smell of the trees and grass in the distance as Grey moves beside me and offers his arm. The scents of sandalwood and cedar greet me, making me draw in a long breath through my nose as a citrus undertone tickles my senses.

God, he smells even better than he looks.

Grey always smells good; I just forget because we’ve made it a habit of keeping an invisible yardstick between us. “It’s icy out.”

I swallow, and my heart forgets to remain calm, colliding with my ribs as I slip my hand into the crook of his arm. The warmth of his body tricks me into feeling frigid and wanting to slide closer to him. I lightly grip his biceps, and through the layers of his pristine suit, I feel his muscles contract, another tease to my senses.

I clear my throat as we walk to the parking lot, reminding myself this isn’t weird. I’ve hung out with Grey and the other guys hundreds of times. We’ve gone on trips and vacations together. I slept in his hotel room. He’s seen me in a bathing suit and first thing in the morning when I’m bleary-eyed and on the hunt for coffee. This only feels weird because we’re trying to imitate something we’re not—a couple.

“I’ve never been to one of these booster events,” I say as we stop at his truck. It’s red and probably older than me. I’ve never been inside of it. My aversion to Grey—his aversion to me—has existed since we first met.

“A lot of people will be in attendance. The entire team, full coaching staff, along with many alums, the boosters, and their families.” He opens the passenger door for me.

I gather the skirts of my dress in my right hand and climb into the cab. The swaths of fabric threaten to tangle as I smooth them into place. The truck’s interior smells like Grey, and as he closes me inside, I take a single deep breath before he opens the driver’s side door.

“Most of the boosters will drink too much, and then they’ll ask for photos and autographs to give to people they know.”

“Is that weird?” I ask.

A faint smile forms as he nods and starts the engine. “Much weirder this year when they actually know who I am. Previous years, I could bleed into the background.” He looks at me.

“Eat the cake?” I ask.

He bestows me with a grin. “Exactly.”

We’re silent as Grey navigates us to the highway. We’re heading for Eastmont, a county Northwest of Oleander Springs. There isn’t a giant screen in the middle of the dash dictating directions or flashy lights. It’s dark in the cab, offering a sense of anonymity and comfort that has me settling into my seat.

“Did you go to California for Christmas?” Grey asks.

I clear my throat. “No. My dad’s work schedule changed, and I couldn’t find a flight that would get me there before Christmas. With Evelyn staying, it just made sense to stay,” I explain, feeling like I should attach a dozen excuses for why it was okay to miss going before recalling this is Grey, and he doesn’t care. “Did you spend Christmas here?”

A nod of confirmation is his only response.

I clear my throat again, the silence growing uncomfortable. “Is there anything I should know? I mean, any details or questions I should have a good answer for, so I don’t come across as the world’s worst fake date?” Nerves have me overexplaining and rambling. “Any special awards I need to say you worked hard for? Or accomplishments you want me to mention when I’m scavenging the dessert table?”

“I’ve never brought a date, so I don’t know what to expect.”

I should feel relieved that he doesn’t have any expectations. Instead, panic feels like a mountain. I’m his first date.

First fake date, I remind myself.

I asked Evelyn a hundred questions to prepare because I hate the unknown. She assured me it’s mostly a lot of shaking hands, small talk, and eating. I was feeling confident until yesterday when she mentioned with their head coach not running the event, there would be some changes but wasn’t sure what they were.

“Any specific objectives for tonight?”

He glances at me, his eyes glittering under the glow of a streetlamp. “Just the sponsorship with Linus Kemp I told you about.”

I want to tell him to befriend Emma and play the same games so many others do—will be playing tonight—in the attempt to network and seek the right contacts to reach their goals. Alex has assured me these political games make up all facets of life, but they also make my skin feel stretched and pulled inside out, so I don’t try and advise Grey except to point out the obvious.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this? You’d probably have a better chance of landing this sponsorship if you go alone.”

“It’s a little late for that,” he says. “Besides, Linus loves Hudson, and you’re Hudson’s best friend.”

I blink through my surprise, realizing Grey doesn’t need my advice. He’s already playing the game.

We ride the rest of the way in silence, arriving at the address located on the outskirts of downtown. I’m glad Evelyn accepted the heavier coat because there’s no valet.

Once Grey parks, I open my door and hop out. The cold night air races up my legs and across my exposed skin. The terrain is flat here, paved for what will likely be commercial space as Oleander Springs continues to price people out, forcing them into other nearby towns. I glance skyward again at the vast openness, the cold stinging my eyes for a second as I take in the stars shimmering in thick clusters, so much denser and brighter here than at my apartment. The sight steals my breath and reminds me just how tiny my existence is in this vast space.

Grey appears next to me, close enough to block the breeze but far enough that he doesn’t radiate warmth.

“Ready?” I ask.

His only response is to offer his arm once more, and I take it, walking with him to the gates of hell.