The Basketball Captain's Fake girlfriend

Chapter 1: Forty Pounds and a BouquetThe air outside Crestview Arena smelled of wet pavement and spilled beer. I stood at the edge of the media tunnel with a bouquet of white roses and yellow tulips clamped in both hands, the cellophane cutting little red lines into my palms. I didn't loosen my grip. If I let go, my hands would start shaking, and I wasn't sure they'd stop.Inside the glass dome, six thousand voices were chanting the same name over and over, a sound so loud I could feel it through the soles of my trainers."DAKAS! DAKAS! DAKAS!"My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I didn't need to check it. It would be the same notification I'd had all day. Balance update: £40.12.That was everything my parents left me, gone. The house in Birmingham, my mum's little hair salon on the high street, the small bit of life insurance. Eighteen months of selling it all, piece by piece, to pay for James's training camps, his physio, his boots, his train fares up and down the country. All of it

Chapter 3: The Refuge And The Phone CallThe early morning bus from Manchester to Leeds was cold, damp, and smelled of stale diesel. I sat in the very back corner, pressing my forehead against the fogged glass as the dark motorway blurred past. My body burned with exhaustion, but my mind was a terrifying, endless loop: the cameras flashing, James’s cold eyes, Jemima’s dismissive laugh, and the rhythmic, hollow chime of his luxury apartment door locking me out in the rain.I pulled out my phone. The screen was spider-webbed with fresh cracks from when I’d dropped it on the bus stop pavement, but it still flickered to life.Battery: 3%.One unread message from Tolu sat on the display:Aima, I saw the clip. Where are you? Tell me you’re on a coach to Leeds. I’m waiting at the Northgate gates.Tolu Bello had been my anchor since secondary school. When my parents died, she was the only one who didn't look at me with pity; when I moved to Bristol to live under Aunt Bridget’s thumb, she was

Chapter 5: The Rules of EngagementDominic Isaiah didn’t answer me right away. He stood in the narrow shadow of the equipment door, his dark, piercing eyes searching my face as if looking for the punchline to a cruel joke."You're out of your mind," he repeated, though the edge in his voice had shifted from pure disgust to something far more dangerous: calculating interest."I'm desperate," I corrected, keeping my gaze locked on his. "There's a difference. You need the media to stop asking about that leaked match-fixing video. I need a badge that gets me into every arena in the country without security dragging me out. A fake relationship gives you a clean, tragic narrative to hide behind, and it gives me access."Dom let out a low, breathy laugh, shaking his head as he slung his gym bag over his shoulder. "Access to Dakas. You still want him.""I want him ruined," I said. The word came out cold, sharp, and razor-like.A slow, cynical smirk touched the corner of Dom’s mouth. "A v

Chapter 7: Six O'ClockAima's POVI stared at the back of my phone as if it might bite me.It lay face down on the desk where I had left it. I still hadn't opened his message or replied to it.I lay down on the thin bed in Dom's jacket and listened to the radiator clank. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw a door slamming in my face.At around two in the morning, I fell asleep. At half past five, my alarm went off.The phone was still face down, and I left it there.I was in the arena at ten to six, standing by the bench with a pile of clean towels in my arms.Dom walked in at exactly six. He looked at the clock on the wall. Then he looked at me."You're early," he said."You said six.""I said not five past six. Early is fine." He walked on without another word.It was the nicest thing he had said to me all morning.The rest of the team came in slowly, with sports bags on their shoulders and sleepy faces. Every one of them looked at me. Then they looked away and whispered.I heard the

Chapter 9: The Boy Who Knew My KnockAima's POVDom didn't look at me once on the team bus. I wasn't expecting him to.He sat at the front with his headphones on, and I sat near the back with the box of towels on my knees. Neither of us had said more than ten words since that night in the store cupboard."Good morning," I had said at practice."Morning," he had said, and looked at the clock.That was it. That was all we had left.I stared out of the window at the grey motorway and thought about the shadow in the corridor, wondering who it could be. The person already knew that our whole relationship was a game, and I had no idea who it was.Every time a player glanced at me, I wondered if it was him.---The away game was in a huge sports hall full of noise. I stood by our bench in Dom's navy and gold jacket, with a pile of towels over my arm, and tried to look like a girl who belonged there.The cameras were already on us. When Dom came out for the warm-up, he glanced at me and gave