Page 9

CHAPTER 9

ANNA

I lean against the cool wall of the arena hallway, the faint hum of voices and the distant clatter of gear filtering through the space. My phone feels like it’s buzzing in my hand, though I know it’s just my pulse racing as I scroll through the comments under the post.

Ollie’s Instagram photo of us is racking up likes faster than I can keep track of. Thousands already. And the comments? Oh, the comments.

“Finally! The Renegades star has a leading lady!”

“#OllieAnna is the real deal.”

“Cutest couple of the season!”

I snort at that one. Couple of the season. If they only knew.

A hashtag is trending. #OllieAnna . It’s surreal, seeing my name tied to his like that. I swipe up, refreshing the post again, and yep, the likes just keep climbing.

“You okay over there, Anna Banana?”

Ben’s voice snaps me out of my scrolling spiral. I look up to see him strolling toward me, his Renegades polo slightly untucked, his grin easy.

I slip my phone into my pocket, offering a smile I hope hides my nerves. “Hey, Ben. Yeah, I’m good. Just caught up in the madness, I guess.”

He nods, like he’s been there, done that. Which he probably has. “Your dad doing alright?”

The question softens my nerves a bit, grounding me. “Yeah, he’s home now and resting. He’s learned his lesson about managing his stress—or so he says.” I smile faintly, the relief still sinking in. “He’ll be back at work in a week.”

“Is he going to be fit enough to do it?”

“Funny you use the word fit. He told me just this morning he felt ‘fit as a fiddle.’”

“Good to hear.” Ben claps me on the shoulder. “Keep an eye on him, though. Old habits die hard.”

“Don’t I know it,” I say with a small laugh.

He gives me a nod and heads down the hallway. As he disappears around the corner, Ollie walks out of the locker room. He’s still in his Renegades hoodie, damp hair curling at the edges, and there’s a post-game glow about him that makes my stomach do a little flip. I’m also scolding myself for not being here for the team’s arrivals—it’s one of my favorite parts of game day. All of the guys dress up in their finest suits to come to the arena and boy, these guys clean up nicely. Especially Ollie. Is it a bad thing that I have a penchant for a man in a bespoke and perfectly tailored suit that shows off all of his muscles?

“You waited,” he says, stopping in front of me.

“Of course. All part of the plan, you know.” I glance around, lowering my voice even though no one’s nearby. “Thanks for posting the picture. It’s...working.”

“Hashtag OllieAnna, huh?” His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile.

“You saw that?” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help grinning. “You’re trending. How’s it feel to be part of a fake power couple?”

“ We’re trending.” He chuckles, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “Feels pretty real with all those comments.”

“Has anyone on the team said anything yet?”

He shakes his head. “Posting it on a game day was a smart idea. Everyone is too distracted.”

“That was my hope,” I say, holding out my fist so he’ll bump it.

He inclines his head toward the door at the end of the hallway that leads into the players’ parking lot. “You ready to fake-sneak out of here?”

“Sutton texted a few minutes ago and said some press are hanging around the back entrance,” I say, straightening up. “We’ve got a clear run if we time it right.”

He pushes off the wall, offering me his hand. “Shall we?”

For a second, I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because this is real. A quick post on Instagram can be explained, but what we do from this moment on means more. This is where it starts. The hand-holding, the sneaking around for show, the pretending. The world’s about to see us as something we’re not, and while I know it’s the right move, I can’t help but wonder if we’re about to knock over a fragile house of cards.

Still, I take his hand. It’s warm, solid, and for a moment, I know I can forget we’re faking anything. This is Ollie. My Ollie.

We weave through the hallway, a few players exiting the locker room and greeting us, and also doing double takes as their gazes land on our intertwined hands. Part of me feels a thrill from it all. Being on the arm of the popular guy isn’t something I’m used to, so having the extra attention because of what it looks like is kind of...seductive. But I digress. We’re here for other reasons.

We make it past a few other players, an agent I recognize (I think his name is Travis), and a group of the team’s sponsors without a hitch. Soon we slip out a side door and head toward the back of the building. The cold night air greets us, sharp and bracing, and I glance up at Ollie.

“Ready to sell this?” I ask, trying to sound lighter than I feel.

His fingers tighten around mine, and he gives me a lopsided grin. “Born ready.”

And with that, we step out into the night together. A sharp click-click-click cuts through the quiet, and I spot movement near the edge of the parking lot.

“There they are!” a voice shouts, and my heart leaps into my throat.

“Oh, this is happening,” Ollie mutters, his hand tightening around mine as we break into a jog.

“Over here!” another voice yells, closer now, and I glance over my shoulder to see two people sprinting toward us, cameras bouncing in their hands.

“Faster!” I say, laughing despite the chaos. My legs are burning as we race toward Ollie’s car, parked just a few rows away.

He pulls me along, his longer strides making it easier for him to stay ahead of the commotion. “This is not what I signed up for,” he says, though his grin suggests otherwise.

We reach the car, and Ollie unlocks it with a quick click of the key fob. I wrench the door open, diving into the passenger seat as he slides behind the wheel.

“Are they always this aggressive?” I ask, slamming my door shut.

“No,” he replies.

“It feels like more than just the local River City paper out there.”

“Because it is.” Ollie taps his window, pointing to a photographer on the other side of the lot, taking aim at us. “I know that one. That guy is from that magazine, Athletic Edge .”

“This feels more than what I was told it would be,” I mutter as Ollie starts the car, shifts into gear, and peels out of the lot just as the photographers reach the edge of the row.

I glance out the back window, watching the figures grow smaller as we pull away. “Did we actually just do that?”

“Looks like we did.” Ollie laughs, his hands steady on the wheel as he merges onto the road.

The adrenaline coursing through me turns into giddy laughter, and I can’t help but join in. “We’re ridiculous.”

“We’re effective,” he counters, casting a sideways glance at me. “You think they got enough pictures?”

“Oh, definitely. If hashtag OllieAnna wasn’t already trending, it will be now.” I sink into my seat, catching my breath. “So…do you think any of your teammates will suspect us?”

He exhales, his laughter fading. “Dixon might. He’s been side-eyeing me ever since that post went up.”

“Dixon,” I repeat, considering. “Do you think we should tell him? It might help to have someone else in the loop.”

Ollie drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe. Dixon’s around a lot. If anyone’s going to figure it out, it’s him.”

“Well, better Dixon than Ben,” I say quickly.

“Or your dad,” Ollie adds.

I groan, covering my face with my hands. “What have I gotten us into?”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Ollie says, his hand finding my knee in the darkness and giving it a comforting squeeze. “The one person in this who is completely innocent is you. You’re literally helping me and your father.”

“Me and karma vibe like that,” I say, trying to make another joke of it all, but also wanting to find a way to reconcile my actions. Mental note: make appointment with therapist. Stat.

The ride settles into a comfortable quiet after that, the rush of the night finally ebbing away. Before I know it, we’re pulling up to my place, the porch light glowing softly against the night.

Ollie shifts the car into park and leans back, one hand still on the wheel. “Well, we survived night one of the great fake relationship experiment.”

“Barely,” I tease, unbuckling my seatbelt. “But yeah, we did it.”

For a moment, we just sit there, the easy silence stretching between us. It’s the kind of quiet that feels like a truce, like we’re in this together, even if it’s just for show.

“Thanks for tonight,” I say, turning to him.

He shrugs, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Anytime, Banana.”

I roll my eyes hearing him use his old nickname for me, but can’t help grinning as I open the door and step out. “Night, Ollie.”

I close the door behind me and head up the steps, but I pause before going inside, glancing back at his car. He’s still there, as usual, watching to make sure I get in okay.

I lift a hand in a small wave, and he returns it before pulling away. The taillights of his car disappear down the street, and I linger on the porch for a moment, the night air cool against my skin, my heart still beating a little too fast.

This is supposed to be simple—a business arrangement wrapped in a layer of convenience. But as I step into my house, shutting the door behind me, I can’t help but smile.

Ollie is more than I was counting on. More steady, more thoughtful. More dangerous in a way I didn’t see coming. Dangerous to the carefully constructed walls I’ve built, the ones I promised I wouldn’t let anyone chip away at—at least not right now. He could be someone I fall for if I let myself. That thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels like a spark, flaring somewhere deep in my chest.

“Anna, you home?”

My dad’s voice pulls me back to reality, grounding me in the moment. I shrug off my jacket and drape it over the chair before stepping into the living room where he’s sprawled on the couch with a blanket over his legs and a book propped on his lap.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I say, perching on the arm of the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He closes the book and sets it aside, giving me a pointed look. “You didn’t have to cut your night short to check on me, you know.”

“I didn’t.” It’s not a total lie. Technically, my end-of-evening antics with Ollie were part of this whole elaborate scheme. But I don’t correct myself, and Dad doesn’t press.

“Good. Because you deserve to have fun once in a while.” His voice softens, and I catch the unspoken concern in his tone. “You’ve been carrying a lot lately, and I know it’s all because of me. I can see it.”

“I’m fine, Dad.” I force a reassuring smile, but the weight of his words settles on me anyway.

He studies me for a long moment, then nods. “If you say so. But don’t let this old man’s mistakes make you forget to live your own life. Okay?”

“Okay.” My voice is quiet, but something in his words lingers as I lean over to kiss his cheek and tell him goodnight.

As I head upstairs, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s right. I’ve been so focused on fixing things for him that I haven’t thought about what I want. Quite frankly, I don’t have time to right now, and on top of that, I don’t want to.

Because now, there’s Ollie. Same Ollie as before, but for some reason now he’s different to me. Back to the only word I can think of today to describe him: more.

I pause at the window in my room, looking out into the darkened street where his car had been just minutes ago. My phone buzzes in my hand, a notification lighting up the screen—another like on his Instagram post.

Ollie and me, smiling and close, our secret starting to look a little too real.

I told myself I wouldn’t blur the lines. I told myself this is for show.

But the way my heart skips at the thought of him? That was most certainly never, ever supposed to be part of the plan.