Page 13

CALEB

“You didn’t tell me you were hooking up with Amelia.” Carter pants, sprinting on the treadmill, cranking up the speed.

I needed to blow off some steam after what happened today so the guys and I hit up our private gym. Working out is the second best thing to pottery to handle stress. I throw my body into something that’ll hurt. The gym, the burn, the weights, it’s the only thing that’ll quiet my mind.

“Ya’ll looked pretty cozy to me.” Nico doesn’t speak much, but when he does, infuriating sarcasm is always wrapped up in a damn bow. He smirks as he pulls his chin over the bar and starts a set. “Thought you grew some balls for a second, Hayes.”

Ha ha ha.

“Caleb wishes.” Marcus snickers from the bench press, adjusting the pin for his weight before lying back. “I don’t know why you don’t just tell her already.”

“Tell her what?” I ask, gripping the cold metal harder, pushing the weight over my head and my muscles tighten with every pump.

“That you want her,” Marcus says. “The comments clearly love you two.”

Up. Down.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m just her friend.” My voice tightens with each rep. “Always have been.”

Up. Down. “And besides, I’m sure she’s not looking for another relationship. It’s called being respectful.”

“It’s not about being respectful, you’re just being a little bitch.” Marcus grins, pushing his weight up.

Okay, it’s time for me to find a new best friend.

“How do you know what she wants, if you never even asked?” Nico drops from the pull-up bar and walks to spot Marcus. “You can’t assume.”

“It’s not that easy.” I rebut. “Besides, I need to apologize to her for all the fucking tabloids about us. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Nico scoffs, bending his knee more and sticking out his hands underneath Marcus’s barbell. “Excuses. This is actually the perfect time.”

I switch arms. My shoulders burn but I don’t stop. These guys always have shit to say but if they were in my shoes they’d be feeling the exact same way.

“You gotta make something happen, golden boy.” Carter hops off the treadmill, sweat dripping down his temples. “Amelia’s hot.”

“Watch it,” I scoff, gripping the weights even tighter.

Carter raises an eyebrow. “I’m just telling the truth, don’t get all pissy at us because you’ve never made a move. Do it before I do.”

My nostrils flare, knuckles turning white as I grip the metal bar. Like hell I’d let that happen.

“It’s called a joke.” He flashes that stupid grin. “Lighten up…don’t ruin your throwing hand.”

“Whatever. I appreciate the advice, fairy godmothers, but I don’t need it.”

The three of them stare at me. I clench my jaw, forcing myself to walk to the weight shelves, trying to shake off the heat crawling up my neck.

I drop the dumbbell with a hard clank. “So let’s drop it.”

They’re quiet for a beat, and just when I think they’ve finally shut up?—

“You should take my advice. I give great ones.” Marcus smirks, sliding off the bench press and walking over to the punching bag, slipping on his gloves.

I walk to the mini fridge, snatch a water bottle, and twist the cap off roughly.

Marcus throws a few jabs at the bag. “Hey, since we’re your fairy godmothers, mind buying us a little wand too?”

I scoff. “Next time, I’m working out alone.”

It’s already 9 p.m. by the time I drag myself to my gym bag in the locker room. My arms and legs feel like jello. I dig out a towel and dab the sweat from my neck, trying to cool down.

My body’s spent, but my mind just switched back on…and it’s spiraling. I need to apologize to her in the morning since we haven’t had the chance to talk today.

My phone rings and I toss the towel on the bench, digging it out of my bag. The screen lights up with a name that makes my heart skip like I’m fifteen again.

I click accept.

“Hey, um…I hope I’m not interrupting,” Amelia says quietly.

She could never. “Not at all, do you?—”

“Can you come over?” she cuts in. “I really need to talk to you.”

She’s definitely seen the photos. I was hoping I’d have the chance to tell her myself first.

I’m already packing my bag in record time as she speaks, the guys looking at me confused. “Give me thirty minutes. That okay?”

“Perfect.”

Marcus jogs over, trying to listen in. “Who’s that?”

I mouth Amelia’s name, covering the phone.

“You need me to come over too?” he says, way too flirtatious for my liking.

She chuckles softly and my jaw locks. I’ve seen them joke around like this for years. I know they get along but he does this shit on purpose, always pushing and knowing exactly how to get under my skin. Normally I don’t care as much but now it’s irritating the hell out of me.

“Tell him I said hi.” She laughs again, but her voice fades back into seriousness. “I’ll see you soon.” Then she hangs up.

I don’t tell him she said hi.

After freshening up, I head over to Amelia’s place. I knock once, and the door practically swings open. She’s in an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants with her curls pulled back in a low bun. She’s the most distracting thing.

Jesus.

“Hey,” she says, stepping aside.

I slip off my shoes, leaving them by the entry before locking the door. “Hey.”

Her living room is dim, lit only by the glow of her stovetop light. She’s pacing with her arms folded, the only sound is the soft scrape of her slippers against the hardwood floor.

I sink onto the couch while she remains standing, her thoughts clearly racing. I decide it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

“I’m gonna assume you saw the photos.”

She nods, chewing the inside of her cheek. “They’re everywhere. Every single gossip account is talking about us. Even a freaking sewing company’s!”

I fight a smile, because this is serious. “I’ve noticed. Driftwear’s already ticked off about it.”

After the talk with Coach, my notifications have been blowing up nonstop, apps crashing from the number of tags I got.

I had to put my phone on Do Not Disturb just to breathe.

But before I did, I noticed a lot of comments supporting Amelia and me.

Usually, I can’t scroll through five comments without seeing Vanessa’s name.

“Hmmm.” She hums, pacing even faster around her living room and I watch her every move. I wonder what’s going on in that pretty head of hers.

“Why don’t you sit down for a second?” I say, patting beside me.

“Can’t. I’m thinking.” She waves a hand, still pacing.

“I’m sorry your name got dragged into this.” I heave a sigh. “I’ll think of something to get you out of it and keep Driftwear happy. I just haven’t…gotten that far yet.”

She halts, turns toward the couch, arms folded. “Your online image hasn’t been great. At all.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“When was the last time anyone mentioned you and Vanessa?”

“Haven’t gotten a single comment last time I checked.”

It’s eerily quiet.

“See?” Her eyes go round. “They’re all talking about us .”

I blink. “Okay? Yeah?”

Not sure where she is going with this but I listen.

“Listen, this is going to sound…insane.” She takes a breath, voice picking up speed as she drops down beside me. “But what if we used this to our advantage?”

Used it?

“We should pretend to go out,” she blurts out. “It’ll solve your problem.”

My brows lift, she’s not suggesting what I think she is, right? My brain short circuits. I must’ve misheard her… I’m tired from the gym and I barely slept last night.

“Are you suggesting we?—”

She sighs, covering her face. “I knew it sounded ridiculous, just hear me out!”

I shake my head. “No, no, I’m just trying to process what you’re saying. You want us to pretend to date?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretend date…each other?” I blink. “How would that solve anything?”

“Yes, Caleb. Keep up,” she groans, fidgeting with her fingers as her words rush out.

“This could work. The damage is already done. The more people talk about us , the less your name is tied to the Vanessa drama. AKA Driftwear won’t have any complaints.

Plus I’ve got something you could help me with too… ”

Okay, wait. I’ve seen this look before, back in college when she’d practice marketing pitches and campaign strategies with me.

She’s fucking brilliant.

But wait, what does she need my help for?

As I’m about to say ask, she immediately continues. “My mom called earlier.”

Ah. Her mom. Sweetest woman alive. Tia and I went over to her parents’ house all the time for movie nights. She made us the meanest bowl of Pancit.

It was this stir-fried dish that had different vegetables and meat. I’m drooling just thinking about it. She also made us Halo-Halo with shaved ice, milk, leche flan, and ube. That has been my favorite dessert since. Filipino food is top tier. Yeah, I said it.

“She asked if I had a date for the wedding.”

I tilt my head, teasing. “Any luck?”

“Nope. Men suck,” she says wryly. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

I don’t blame her for feeling that way.

“She keeps telling me to move on, and I’m so tired of being asked about it every five business days,” she sighs. “Plus, running into Jared with his new girlfriend, sucked so…maybe we can help each other? I’ll be your girlfriend to get the Vanessa gossip off your back, and you’ll be my date.”

I stare at her. My heart shouldn’t be pounding this hard. But it is. This would solve everything but it can’t be that simple, right?

“What do you think?” she asks, nibbling her bottom lip as she waits for me to say something, anything. Her eyes locked on mine as her knee bounces a few times.

“You sure about this?” I ask, squeezing my thumb anxiously. “What if it goes south?”

“It won’t,” she says confidently. “I know the algorithm like the back of my hand.” She lifts her hand, flipping it back and forth to emphasize her point and I can’t help but laugh a little.

I can see the shift in real time, her marketing brain kicking into overdrive. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Focus.