Page 133 of The Love Playbook

I reach out and take his hand in mine, giving it a little squeeze as my heart warms. “I think I’d like that.”

He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath, and the tension in his shoulders melts. “You know, Chris has told me more than once since I met him that our relationship was something I needed to deal with, but I think I was in denial. I knew we weren’t in a good place, obviously, but it was easier to ignore it and just hope things would magically get better. Guilt is a hard thing to live with.”

I blink, shocked. “Chris said something to you?”

“He did.” Dad smiles. “I actually think he’s part of the reason I got so upset when I saw the way you and him were looking at each other that night at dinner. Here he was, this kid you seemed to hate a little over a month ago, and all of a sudden, you were able to push that aside and be with him. That’s all I wanted for us.” I shift in my seat, wondering what Dad would think if he knew I blew it. Maybe he already knows. “He’s one of the good ones,” he continues. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you so comfortable with a guy before.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing,” I say with a weak smile.

“Hey,” my father dips his head, catching my gaze. “He might be an amazing man, but he’s damn lucky to have you. Any man would be.”

Chapter 36

CHRIS

Sinking down onto the closed toilet seat, I hold a mirror out in front of me while I glob the wand of the skin-colored goop onto my face. I grimace at the stark contrast of it on my skin. It’s about two shades too light, but then, I guess that’s the point. I need to look deathly pale if I’m to convince Coach I’m sick.

Dabbing at it with my fingers, I spread it around my face, adding more as needed until it’s covering every square inch of skin. Satisfied, I set it down and open the stuff I’m pretty certain is meant for your eyelids and brush some of the black powdery shit beneath my eyes.

Bang, bang, bang!

I jump at the pounding on the bathroom stall, smearing a streak of black on my cheek. “Shit,” I hiss under my breath, then call out, “It’s occupied!”

Bang, bang, bang!

“Are you taking a pregame shit or what?” Jace shouts. “You’ve been in there forever.”

I roll my eyes at the dramatics. “I’ve been in here for ten minutes.”

“Well, let me in. I wanna talk.”

“You wanna talk while I take a shit?” I ask, staring up at the stall door.

“So, you really are shitting?”

I sigh and shake my head. “You want to talk at the oddest times, but okay.” I unlatch the lock and push the door open, lowering my face to the makeup in my lap.

“Knew you weren’t taking a crap,” he says as he crowds into the stall. “So, did you figure out how to get out of the game?” he whispers.

Jace and the guys know all about my afternoon plans. “Maybe.” I glance up at him with a smile, and he yelps, hugging his arms to his chest.

“What the . . . Is your plan to turn yourself into Casper the Friendly Ghost, because I have to say, bro, I don’t think it’s working for you.”

I scoff just as Brandon appears behind him. “Hey, guys . . . Whoa!” His mouth gapes as he stares down at me. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Jace reaches down and picks up the tube of makeup. “Are we having an identity crisis?”

“No.” I rip it out of his hand. “Relax. This is all part of the plan.”

“And the plan is . . .”

“I’m going to fake getting sick,” I say like it should be obvious.

“And you think that shit you’ve globbed on your face is gonna work?” he asks, motioning toward my face.

“I’m pale with dark circles around my eyes, so yeah.”

“You’re pale alright,” Brandon mutters, looking slightly alarmed.