Page 27 of A Follow-Through in Faking

Santiago

“Santiago, you can’t be serious right now,” Mamá says with irritation, but it’s Papá’s smile that makes me grin.

“I am,” I reply, feeling oddly confident and comfortable with my decision.

No part of me is scared I will regret this.

“You are a lovestruck fool,” Papá chimes in, but he finds this all so amusing, he’s having a hard time hiding that fact. “You gave me so much shit three and a half months ago about pairing you up with her, and now you’d risk your ranking for her.”

They make it sound so dramatic when I have a good buffer between myself and Renjun.

Missing two small tournaments, not a Grand Slam, isn’t as big a deal as everyone thinks it is.

Or perhaps for me, it doesn’t feel that way because I’ll be playing mixed doubles with Catalina.

She can slow down. There are so many upsides to this decision that the downsides have faded into nothingness for me.

“What can I say? I’m a changed man.”

Changed or perhaps I’ve simply stopped lying to myself about how much she means to me.

Matteo and Thomas would kick my ass and tell me they were saying I had feelings for her for over a decade, which is most likely why I haven’t discussed Cata with the crown prince of Monaco for months.

Not that he has any time for me with his royal duties at the moment anyway.

I cross my arms in front of my chest, incapable of keeping the smile off my face.

It’s hard not to smile every time I think of Cata now.

She kissed me back yesterday on the court.

She’s giving me a chance, and I’ll be damned if I don’t prove to her that I’ll do whatever it takes to earn her forgiveness.

“Go fuck someone else. I’m giving you permission.

It’ll screw your head back on properly so you stop making decisions with your sex-deprived dick.

Catalina is nothing more to you than a means to have sex, the only means at the moment if you think about it,” Papá says, and I’m on my feet and in his face a second later.

“I fucking dare you to call Catalina that again. You might be my father and coach, but I’ll knock you on your ass without a second thought.”

The child in me screams because I’m threatening Papá, but my heart is in charge, and it’s not having any disrespect directed toward Catalina.

My father studies me for a long time, but I don’t back down from his stare. His amber eyes, the ones he gave me, show no remorse for what he said.

Then, he places a hand on my shoulder and smiles.

“Good, I just wanted to make sure you were serious about Catalina if you’re already making decisions based on your feelings for her.”

He lets go of me and drops down on the seat beside Mamá, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. Her shoulders untense immediately.

“Winning is important. Your ranking is important.

But there is more to life than work, even if you're living your dream.

Love is a wonderful thing which I was lucky enough to find.

If you've found it for the first time in Catalina, I suggest you hold onto it. It may never come again for someone as anti-love as you,” Papá adds, causing the smile to drop off my face.

“I'm not anti-love. I—” I don't know what I am, if I'm being honest.

“You what, Santiago?” Mamá asks softly, genuine concern in her eyes for me.

“I have never wanted anything with anyone except for Cata.

I think I've always wanted more than friendship with her, ever since we were playing doubles.” I sink into the chair opposite Mamá and Papá.

“Fuck, what does that even mean? More than ten years of pining after the same person, never wanting another like I want her?”

My parents both smile, and I'm glad they do because that means they have an answer. I'm their kid. I don't know everything they do about love and life. I don't know so many things they haven't taught me yet, and I'm so grateful they're both here to teach me.

I'm very lucky.

“I think it means you're in love with her, that she is your person,” Mamá says, but it's Papá’s words that make my heart stop.

“Catalina Sanchez is your soulmate, mijo , so you better make damn well sure you don't fuck up and lose her.”

Catalina and I have officially signed up to play doubles in the Indian Wells Open and because they love how much publicity we are going to give them—playing doubles as a couple for the first time in a tournament—they didn't have any problems with our withdrawals from the singles tournament.

All they have asked us to do is a photoshoot that has Catalina nervous. She assured me her back feels much better today, but I see how stiff it must be from the way she walks. Or perhaps it's her nerves.

“Talk to me, mariquita . Does your back hurt or are you nervous?” I ask because she has been staring at the same spot on the wall in front of her for a few minutes with her shoulders slightly raised and a frown on her face.

“I don't like photoshoots. I loathe taking pictures and seeing them afterward,” she replies and I love the way she turns to me and puts her forehead against my shoulder as she groans.

“Really? Someone as beautiful as you should love seeing themself in photos. I certainly love seeing myself,” I tease to take her mind off it, and the way she snorts has me grinning from ear to ear.

“You're an arrogant asshole,” she mumbles, her words muffled because she’s still resting her forehead on my shoulder.

“I hope you know I’m seeking comfort from you because of how uncomfortable I am with this situation.

For no other reason, cabrón ,” she says, and I take that as an invitation to give her even more comfort.

My arms wrap around her, pressing her more firmly against me. She twists her head so her face is nuzzled in the area between my neck and collarbone, her arms flying around me too. She lets out a sigh I feel deep in my bones as a smile covers my entire face.

I love hugging Catalina. It feels like my body was molded to wrap around hers, and every time she hugs me, we connect like two pieces of broken glass that were separated by hate for far too long.

“For no other reason?” I ask, rubbing her back until she relaxes even more against me.

“For no other reason,” she repeats, but I don’t miss the way she takes a deep breath, inhaling my scent.

“You’re so full of shit,” I say, calling her out on her lie.

“Let me lie, Santi. It makes me feel better.” I chuckle again, kissing the top of her head.

“For today. Tomorrow, I won’t let you lie anymore,” I reply, still rubbing her back, too.

“Well, tomorrow I won’t let you touch me, so I won't have to lie.”

“That’s too bad. I do love touching you.”

I can’t see her face, but I know my Catalina. She’s blushing right now, which is why she buries her face in my neck even more, hiding from the rest of the world.

“Alright, Santiago, you can go get dressed and get your makeup done. Catalina, you as well.”

Cata steps away, and I’m fully prepared for us to go our separate ways for the next half hour while we get dressed and beautified, but she grabs my wrist as soon as I attempt to step toward the person who was speaking to us.

Uncertainty has replaced all other emotions on her face, and I resist the urge to cup her cheeks as I ask her what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” she replies, but she’s digging around in her pocket until she pulls out two identical pins.

They’re pride flags. “A little something for during the photoshoot,” she explains, offering me one.

“If you’d like to, you don’t have to. I know you haven’t done anything like this before, but I’m so used to it, I’d feel strange not wearing anything, any message,” she rambles, clearly nervous because this is uncharted water for us.

I study her with fascination because she wants to share this with me, something so very special to her. I can’t quite get my mind to wrap around that fact as I take one of the pins and hold it tightly in my hand.

“Thank you. I can’t wait to put it on,” I say, making Catalina smile.

“Okay, cool,” she replies, nodding several times. “Cool,” she repeats.

I find it so adorable to see this confident woman so flustered around me at the moment because of all of the decisions I’ve made that have led us here.

I have a feeling she isn’t quite certain what to make of all of her feelings for me anymore.

It was easy before. Hate me. No questions needed to be asked.

She had a good enough reason. But now? Now we’re growing closer, and I hope she doesn’t want to cling to her hate.

I hope she wants to explore this thing, whatever it is, between us as much as I do.

“I’ll see you soon,” Cata says as I continue to smile at her, watching her blush all over again.

“See you soon, carino ,” I reply, walking with a little skip in my step because of her.

The entire time I sit in the makeup artist’s chair, I think about making a page for Cata in my scrapbook when I get back home. Something to add her to it because I’ve never made a page dedicated to her. I was too busy pretending to hate her.

“Look up,” the makeup artist says, their voice firm and irritated as if this isn’t the first or third time they said that.

“Sorry,” I mumble, looking at the ceiling, as instructed.

I’m itching to get back to Cata, and when I’m told I’m done, I all but jump out of my seat.

The dress pants and polo they put on me are ridiculously fancy for someone like me, an athlete who only wears suits and tuxes when absolutely necessary, but I become a huge fan of the outfit when I see the fancy clothing they put on Catalina.

She’s wearing a berry magenta silk dress that hugs her curves in a sinful way.

Her long, brown hair cascades down her back in perfect waves, and they chose to do a simple makeup look that highlights all of her stunning features, which is her whole face.

She has the pride flag pin at the left breast area of her dress. Mine is in the same spot, just a bit lower than hers. Her eyes trail down my body appreciatively, but her gaze softens when it attaches itself to the pin.

“You look dashing,” she says with a grin, and I stroke a hand down my chest as a blush covers my cheeks.

“And you look exquisite, Catalina. Like you’re about to storm into a castle during a dance and take the throne,” I say, watching her grin stretch into a full smile because she loves her fantasy books where the female main characters actually do that.

“I think that is my new favorite compliment,” she says and spins once to show off her outfit.

I almost drop to my knees.

The fabric twirls with her, hugging her body even more in some places before shifting to show off others. Her hair flies with the motion, her smile so very contagious.

I catch her once she stops turning, my hands moving to her hips.

“Now, let’s get this over with,” she says, nodding once in the direction she wants me to go. I follow behind her without hesitation.

The photoshoot is awkward at first, to say the least. They keep putting us in strange positions, as if Catalina and I were nothing more than acquaintances, and I’m getting more irritated with every picture they take where I’m not looking at her, touching her, or being close to her.

I’m about to open my mouth when Catalina beats me to it.

“What is the point of this photoshoot?” she asks, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. The photographer looks as confused as I feel.

“Well, you know, you’re the first couple to play doubles in a tournament like this in a long time. It’s for publicity,” he explains, holding his camera to the side.

“Exactly. We’re a couple. This isn’t how couples look.

I’m not saying to make Santiago touch my ass or anything inappropriate like that, but there should be some touching, no?

Shouldn’t we at least look at each other?

” she says, waving a hand in my direction.

I can’t suppress my smile at her irritation that we’re not touching each other.

“Umm, yes, okay. Maybe you can do what feels natural for you, and I’ll make suggestions and adjustments,” he says, and Cata spins around, her dress flying with the motion.

They put us on this uncomfortable, tiny bench, and she moves to straddle it, making me turn to face her instinctively.

Her hand flies up to my hair, fixing a single strand of it.

The photographer starts photographing, and I’m about to frown at him and ask to leave us alone during this sweet moment when Catalina places her hand on my neck.

My attention glues itself to her lips before trailing up to her eyes.

She isn’t smiling at me, but fuck, I’m grinning at her, enjoying the way she’s touching me so casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

The rest of the photoshoot is pure heaven.

Catalina and I don’t stop touching. Her mouth hovers over mine for many of the photos, always shy of a kiss.

And when she moves her head to the side, I follow her.

When she moves it back, I lean forward, always keeping my lips near hers like metal to a magnet.

It’s a delicate dance, and she eventually smiles when I let out a quiet, complaining grunt after she teased me with another almost-kiss.

By the time the photographer is done with us, my entire body has stiffened.

My cock is aching, pressing against the uncomfortable fabric, and Catalina hasn’t stopped touching me.

Her hand lingers on my left thigh as she talks to a member of the team that put this whole set together, and I barely contain myself from storming out of here to prevent anyone from seeing my awkward situation.

But I enjoy her touch far too much to leave.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cata eventually asks when the person leaves. I pick up the hand that’s resting on my thigh, placing it back on my neck. Her gaze catches fire as I run her hand down my chest and rest it on my abs.

“I crave you, Catalina.”

She runs her nails over my abs before bringing her hand back up to my throat, her thumb caressing the side of it right above my pulse point there, the way I always do with her. My breath hitches from both the admission and the way she’s touching me.

She studies me, unsure about my words for several seconds before she says something that has me fighting a whimper.

“And you’ve almost earned me, Santiago. Keep being a good boy, and I’ll let you have me.”

I nearly come in my fucking pants without her even touching me.

She cups my chin for a brief moment as she stands, but she releases me far too soon before walking away, leaving me to stare after her.