Lahat ng Kabanata ng PLAYING FOR KEEPS: MY FAKE ALL AMERICAN QB BOYFRIEND : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 6

Siena's povMy legs are moving on autopilot. The hallways blur, while the agency’s chatter morphs into a distant hum like I am hearing it through the water.I push through the exit door and stumble outside to the back of the building, my breath coming short and shallow. My chest feels tight—too tight, too much, My heart is palpitating too fast as if its on a mission to break free from its cage. I sink down onto the cool concrete steps, gripping my knees.“Sienna, Breathe,” I will myself. But I can’t.My lungs refuse to expand, and my vision is tunneling. My hands shake as I press them to my chest, desperate to stop the crushing weight pressing down on me. Everything is slipping away. The house. My mom’s memory. My stability. My entire life!A sharp gasp rips from my throat and I clutch at my ribs, trying to rip away the force burning in my chest, stealing away my goddamn breath. It feels like I am drowning.“Hey, hey—breathe.”A deep, steady voice cuts through the fog, and sudde

Jax's pov This is the most ludicrous thing I've ever done in my entire 27 years of life. I am standing in the middle of Émile Laurent’s private showroom, staring at the array of limited-edition gowns like they are a defensive line ready to crush me. The designer himself—a flamboyant man with a sharp eye for style and an even sharper tongue—is slumped lazily over a velvet couch, sipping what looks like a green smoothie but, knowing Laurent, is probably some overpriced detox elixir designed to make mere mortals feel inadequate. “I always thought choosing women’s clothes was easy,” I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair. “I’d rather ditch this for a suited-up practice during summer in the open field.” Across from me, Émile Laurent—fashion’s golden boy and the designer responsible for tonight’s exclusive collection—grins like a devil in silk. He’s already draped in one of his own creations, a sleek black tux with gold embroidery that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous

Sienna's pov The sharp, relentless ringing of my phone rips me out of sleep like a sledgehammer to the skull. I groan, burying my face deeper into my pillow, willing whoever it is to just go away.The ringing stops.Bless.I sigh, shifting under the covers, trying to slip back into unconsciousness—The phone starts blaring again.I swear under my breath, fumbling blindly for it on my nightstand. The screen is too bright, the letters swimming in my still-sleepy vision. I don’t even check the caller ID before answering, voice groggy and irritated.“What?”A gruff chuckle filters through the line, and my stomach sinks.“Well, good morning to you too, princess.”Shit.I sit up instantly, pressing my fingers against my temple as my father’s slurred voice fills my ear. “So,” he drawls, dragging the word out, “I have to find out from my friends—from the newspapers, the internet—that my only daughter is out here bagging a quarterback?”I close my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Here we