Faking It With The Quarterback

Scarlett"You can't drive in this storm, Scar. You're going to get yourself killed." My best friend hissed at me through the phone. "Trust me, I know that." I replied, pulling over in front of the motel. It was the first one I had come across in miles, and I was relieved that I didn't have to keep driving. I'd almost fallen into a ditch earlier, "I just found a motel. I'll call you when I get settled." "Okay, keep me updated." She said before hanging up. Jen and I had met last year at my ex fiance's office party and since then we had been inseparable. I don't know what I'd have done if she hadn't been there after I'd found out Paul was a lying, cheating snake two weeks ago. I'd moved in with her and she had kept me distracted. Which was how I found myself stuck in the storm on my way to her parents' house for their anniversary. Sighing, I climbed out the car, my duffel in hand and hunched into my jacket, hurrying into the building before I could get completely soaked. Inside the

Scarlett "Hello?" I asked softly as I stepped out of the bathroom half an hour later, "Are you awake?" "Yeah," the man said from the bed. A second later, the bedside light came on, washing the room in a soft glow, "Apparently nothing can be done about the tiny bed tonight. I had had a feeling that that would be the case. The man rolled over a little bit, offering me some space, "Go to sleep. It's just for a few hours." Staring at the tiny space warily, I crossed over to the bed and joined him. One side of my body was completely pressed against his, and I could feel the warmth of his body seeping into me. "You're freezing." He pointed out. I let out a huff, "I wasted too much time trying to resurrect my broken phone and forgot that the shower was running. By the time I got in, the hot water had run out." "Ouch." He winced."Yeah. Today sucks." I sighed, "no, in fact, this whole month has sucked so bad." "Wanna tell me about it?" He asked softly. When I turned my head to the si

Scarlett"Who the fuck are you?" Paul sneered, staggering to his feet. Jett took a step toward him and my coward ex scrambled backward, all his earlier bravado suddenly gone. Honestly, he'd have been stupid to try to go up against a man like Jett, who was way bigger and looked every inch a viking. "You have three seconds to get out of here," Jett said in a cold voice. Paul glanced over his shoulder at me, "Seriously? These are the kind of assholes you surround yourself with now?" A moment later, recognition filled his face, "Wait a minute, aren't you Jett Heathrow? The football_"The taller man had had enough. He reached forward, grasped my ex by the collar and tossed him out the door before banging it shut on his stunned face. I was at a loss of words. How had he found me here? "What the hell are you doing here? I'm sorry, but you have to leave. I have an appointment and I can't deal with whatever this is right now," I snapped, "I had no idea who you were, okay? And you don't nee

Normally a haven of controlled chaos, my office became a war room. The following few days were a haze of careful planning, strategy meetings, and phone conversations with Jett's agent, who appeared to be far too amused by the circumstances.Unexpectedly, Eve was a tornado of productivity; her initial giddiness gave way to a keen focus I was unaware she possessed. She assisted me in writing press releases, making mood boards, and even beginning a thorough calendar of possible "sightings."To his credit, Jett was surprisingly obedient.He was punctual for our meetings, listened carefully to my explanations of public opinion, and even kept a straight face when I described the type of personal information we would have to fabricate about our "relationship"for the media. Sometimes he would interrupt with a sardonic, dry remark, but most of the time he would just watch me, those intense blue eyes tracking everything I did. To put it mildly, it was unsettling. "All right,"I said late Friday a

With a bewildering array of meticulously planned appearances and "candid"moments, the days that followed flew by. Once a peaceful haven, my flat is now a never-ending buzz of strategy. Eve was a flurry of activity, setting up interviews, verifying the specifics of the charity event, and taking calls from Jett's increasingly impressed agent. Surprisingly, Jett was naturally skilled at public relations. With ease, he assumed the part of the endearing but somewhat bashful boyfriend, always knowing when to give me that heartbreaking smile or a gentle, comforting look. During a visit to a children's hospital, he even managed to appear genuinely interested by holding a baby's hand and patiently allowing a young girl to braid his hair. It was widely covered by the media. One headline said, "Jett Heathrow: Softer Than You Think!"and included a photo of him seemingly tenderly looking down at a child. But in private, the distinctions remained hazy. Our phone conversations, which at first onl