Page 15

15

SARAH

I wake up hot. No. Scratch that. I wake up sweating. Riley’s body melts into mine. Our bodies are flush. One of our hands are intertwined and his other hand curves around my midsection as if he’s afraid I’ll fall off the bed despite us both curled in the middle. No inch of space left untouched. His breathing is still deep and steady and I do my best to not alert him that I’m awake.

I need to reinforce, to not only him, but to myself that this thing between us is fake. But last night threw me for a loop. Him telling me his pre-game routine and how he carries his mom with him. To me telling him about how love will never be in the cards for me. It shifted. We shifted and I need us to straighten back up.

“Why are you thinking so loud?” Riley’s rough morning voice startles me.

I start to move, but he tightens his hold on me. I’m about to answer his rhetorical question when I feel his impressive morning wood wedged between my cheeks. My nipples tighten and my breath stutters. I know Riley can sense the change in me if evident by the small shift in his hips .

“Good morning,” I say and try not to move my body when I speak. In order for us to adhere to the fake part of our relationship, sex needs to not be the main focus. We already know we’re good at that part.

“How did you sleep?” Riley asks.

“Surpris–” my voice is cut off when his hand that’s wrapped around my middle slides under my tank. His fingers lightly trail up my torso and to my pointed nipple.

“What was that?” He asks as he circles the pointed tip.

“We should stop,” I say weakly as I push my chest into his hand.

“We won’t go any further than this. But this is for you.” He tells me, voice thick as he diverts his hand to the waistband of my pajama shorts. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“Don’t stop,” I breathe out.

I’m already wet and Riley meets no resistance as he moves a finger over my clit and down to my entrance. I roll my hips and his finger slips easily inside of me giving him my answer. “Fuck, baby you’re soaked. Keep talking or I’ll stop.”

Riley nibbles on my earlobe causing a stuttered breath to spill free. “I slept surprisingly well. But you do snore.” That earns a pinch to my clit. “Oh, fuck.”

“What else? What are you excited to see?” Riley asks as he continues to bring me to the edge. He adds another finger to my entrance and curls them as he circles my clit with his thumb.

“I…hockey, ice.” He expects me to form a complete thought?

“What else and I’ll let you come,” he licks a trail from the crease in my neck and dips into my ear. His fingers massage my inner walls. Never moving any faster than a leisurely pace. He groans when I clench around his fingers .

“You playing,” I say as a sheen of sweat forms on my forehead.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now come for me Sarah.” Riley orders as he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy and rolls my nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. My body tightens and with the curl of his fingers I let go. Moaning his name as my orgasm flows through my body. Riley works me through my climax and slows down the thrusting of his fingers. When the last of my orgasm fades he pulls his hands from the waistband of my shorts and kisses the side of my head before rolling out of the bed and into the bathroom.

Huh. I try not to think too much about what just happened. Or what didn’t happen. Namely Riley not getting his finish. So I fall back on the mattress and stare up at the ceiling and listen to the faint sound of the shower running through the closed bathroom door. Is he taking care of himself? If so, why not let me do it for him? Maybe this is his way of putting that line back in place? But, if so, then he wouldn’t have touched me to begin with. Sasha jumps up on the bed and finds her spot by laying right on top of me. Her presence is a welcome distraction to what may or may not be happening mere feet away from me.

“At least you like me,” I tell her as I give her some head scratches. The vibrations of her purring soothes the dark thoughts that tend to sneak in my mind uninvited. I won’t call him a trigger, but Riley walking away brought those unwanted thoughts in.

It’s a weird thing. Depression. It sneaks in when you least expect it to. But I never considered myself to be depressed. Because what’s so bad in my life that my mind went on shutdown mode? I mean besides the baseball failure, the cheating boyfriend, and nonchalant mom. Really, what is so wrong that the waves of sadness wash over me at unexpected moments? I could be celebrating huge contracts or my clients teams winning the big game. But out of nowhere, that dark, heavy cloud of feelings will come and crush whatever strides I’ve made to not be sucked back in.

I have Kamryn to thank for pushing me to finally talk to someone about my buried feelings. I remember that day last year so clearly. Sitting at a bar with my friends and realizing that we were missing a crucial part of our group. That was a low point for me. It was the point where I was wondering why and what’s the point every single day. Most days I woke up crying and then pasting on the happy-go-lucky face to everyone else. It was the need to no longer being afraid to fail that I finally started making bigger strides at work. But the cycle would continue to repeat itself until Kam told me she didn’t want to lose me. The self-deprecating jokes and focus on the past were what finally clued her into knowing that I wasn’t fine.

Yet there was never a day when I told myself I was done with life. I was just so tired. I was tired of feeling like I wasn’t succeeding as fast as my friends. I was tired of feeling left behind. I was tired of feeling stuck in the past with no way forward. But I would never and could never tell my friends that. They have been through too much for me to just dump on them. And being a burden to someone is the last thing I want.

The door to the bathroom opens and I quickly wipe the tears off my face and go back to petting Sasha.

“What time do you have to be at the arena?” I ask and hope that my voice doesn’t hold any of the leftover emotion.

I hear a drawer open and look over to see Riley with his back to me, riffling through it and pulling out some briefs. He drops his towel and I get a good look at his glutes as he pulls the briefs on. Picking up the towel off the floor, he turns and runs it over his hair.

I give him a pointed look and watch as his face transforms. That damn mask I saw the first time we officially met. What happened to the man who gave me an orgasm less than twenty minutes ago to the man standing in front of me in just his briefs?

“I don’t have to be there for another few hours.” He finally responds and tosses his towel into the hamper that’s in the corner of his room. “I’m gonna make some breakfast. Do you want any?”

“Just coffee,” I tell him.

Riley just nods before snagging his phone off the charger and heading out of the room with Pixie following close at his heels. I shouldn’t worry too much about his sullen mood, right? It is a little odd he’s not as chatty since that’s been his M.O. since we met. Maybe this is also part of his pre-game routine that he left out.

I listen to him clanking around in the kitchen as the murmuring from the TV floats this way. Should I get up and shower? Join him in the kitchen? That’s what a girlfriend would do. But we’re not real. This could just be another way that I’m reinforcing it into my brain.

Snagging my phone off the nightstand next to me, I open it to multiple texts from my girls.

Kamryn: Mason has extra tickets to today’s home opener. Anyone wanna go with us?

Emmy-Lou: Sure. I still know absolutely nothing about football. But Adam is working and Dylan is with his grandparents.

Jax: If I can finish this brand project, count me in.

Kamryn: Sarah?

Emmy-Lou: Hello….!

Jax: Maybe she’s still sleeping?

Kamryn: She’s a machine. She never sleeps.

Kamryn: If you don’t respond in the next ten minutes I’m driving over to your house.

I look at when she sent the message and realize it’s been ten minutes. I scramble to reply.

Me: I’m not home.

Emmy-Lou: This is why we should share our locations.

Kamryn: Where are you?

Me: Columbus. Riley has his first preseason game.

Jax: And where exactly are you staying?

Me: In Columbus.

Emmy-Lou: Don’t make us repeat Jax’s question.

Me: At his condo. Bye!

I turn my phone on silent, kiss Sasha on the head, and head into his spa-like bathroom. I’m not sure why I’m antsy for this day. It’s not like I haven’t been to the games of my clients. Yeah, but you’ve never fake dated any of them. Conscience is a bitch. I hop in the shower. Taking care to make sure my hair doesn’t get wet. But what surprises me is seeing some of the products I use at home lining a shelf. Riley was in my shower for barely five minutes. No way he cataloged everything that quickly. Don’t read into it. I go about washing my face and body, then plucking a towel off the rack and wrapping it around my body.

My toiletries are on a corner of the bathroom vanity so I go about getting somewhat ready: brushing my teeth, doing my skincare, brushing out my hair, and rubbing lotion all over my body. I come out of the bathroom to a Columbus Blue Jays tunic type of jersey shirt/dress laying on the bed. Looking towards the door, I expect Riley to be leaning against it, but I still hear him puttering around in the kitchen. Since the game isn’t for another few hours I throw on another lounge set I have in my bag and head out into the kitchen.

Riley is at the stove manning breakfast with Pixie watching him from the kitchen island. My steps are quiet, but that could be because he has the TV on. So when I slide up behind him he jolts a little before relaxing and I’ll blame it on my hands being cold despite roasting my body in the shower.

“Thank you.” I tell him before placing a kiss on his back and walking over to sit on a barstool.

I watch his back flex as he plates the food and slides one in front of me. I quirk an eyebrow at him as this is the opposite of what I’d eat on the weekends.

“Humor me. Because coffee is not a meal and it’s going to be a long day.”

I take the offered fork and we eat in comfortable silence. When all of our food is gone, I lean back on the chair and have a stare-off with Pixie. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Riley snorts into his water glass. “She’s just protective and wary of other people.”

“Not like Sasha,” I point out .

“I call her my Little Walmart Greeter. She knows no fear.”

“So I guess we should talk about the game?”

“Yeah. I put your name down under me. So you’ll be escorted to the friends & family box after you head to will-call.”

“What? Riley you don’t need to do that,” I protest. I assumed I’d be sitting on the floor. But that’s what happens when we make assumptions.

“My Momma and Pops would whoop me if I didn’t have you sit with them.”

“Excuse me?”

His wide ocean blue eyes meet mine before instantly shooting up to the ceiling. “Huh…did I not mention my parents coming to the game?”

“No. That was conveniently left out.”

It’s not that I’m against meeting a boyfriend’s parents. But, again, to not only remind myself, we’re not dating. And me meeting his parents is serious business.

“Look, I know this thing between us has an expiration date. But you can’t expect to never meet my parents. Whether you stayed as my publicist or as my fake girlfriend, it was going to happen,” he tells me and that explanation slowly brings me back down to earth as if he was thinking of us as more than what we’re contractually stated. Which he’s right. I would have to meet his parents. I’ve met my other clients' parents. But under this circumstance is not how I wanted that to happen.

“I don’t want people in your life to get hurt,” I confess. “That includes you.”

“Hey,” he starts and turns me on the barstool, putting my legs between his spread ones. “I am going to be fine. I know what this is and I know what this isn’t. You don’t have to worry. We just need to keep up for public appearance sake.”

“Okay. So touchy-feely in public and distant behind closed doors. Got it.”

Riley nods and stands up from his stool, placing a kiss on the top of my head and taking our plates to the sink. When he does things like that, it makes me wonder if he knows the rules that are in place. Because while his words say one thing his actions say something completely different.

I bring my laptop to the bar and get to work on emailing brands for Eli. While he may not love being in front of a camera, the camera loves him. I also send him some of the pictures the photographer sent over from his shoot. With his off season looming closer and closer, I do want him to take a break from the spotlight. But that doesn’t mean I stop working for him.

Me: Tell your mom and sister I miss them.

Nate: Mom wants to have dinner when she’s in town.

Me: Just let me know when.

Most publicists and agents are against mixing business with pleasure. But I find in doing that my working relationship with my clients gets stronger.

“Hey, Riley, did you get a new agent?” I ask him without looking up from my screen.

“That’s what I’ve been forgetting. No. Also none have been the right fit for me.”

I look up at him and see his furrowed brow. What I’m beginning to slowly learn about Riley is that he wants specific people on his team .

“Let me see if Mason’s agent is looking for another athlete. Is that okay?”

“Really? I mean, his agent is legendary.” He looks like a kid in a candy shop at the suggestion of Mason’s agent possibly representing him.

“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “I can reach out to him next week. But for now you’re stuck with me.”

He shuts the water off and dries his hands on the towel that’s hanging on the stove. “It’s better than being agent-less and not knowing if the front office is making moves without me knowing would be terrifying. I could be jobless right now and not know it.”

I pick up my phone and look back at Riley. “Well I haven’t gotten any ESPN notifications, so you’re good for now,” I joke.

“Funny,” he volleys back and looks at the time on his watch. “I have to get ready to head out. Do you need the address?”

I shake my head slowly. “I can just look it up.”

He nods and heads to his room to get ready. I turn my attention back to my laptop. With Mason coming to the end of his career, Nate in the playoffs, and Marcus in preseason training, my calendar is so far organized. Despite them all playing around the same months, I still have a moment to breathe. So maybe I should pick up a short-term hobby? It couldn’t hurt. I get to looking up workout classes in Cincinnati when Riley walks out of his room with a duffel in his hand. He strolls over to where I’m still camped out on my barstool and looks over my shoulder.

“Nosey much?” I ask and close my laptop a little.

Riley whistles nonchalantly on the way to the refrigerator, the sound of it opening breaks up the sound of my heart beating louder than I thought possible. I must be out of shape. You’re sitting down. I shut my inner voice down and watch as Riley grabs an electrolyte drink from the fridge and turns to meet my expectant stare.

“So, I’ll see you after the game?”

“Yep,” I say, popping the p in a way to hopefully cover up the breathiness in my voice.

What’s the protocol? We just stated that in private we keep our distance. But why does it feel like second nature to give him a hug and kiss goodbye? It seems Riley is having the same mental war but decides nothing is better.

“Okay. Well I’ll see you later.” Riley says and walks back over to his discarded duffle bag.

“Score a touchdown.” I joke and turn back to my laptop with a smile on my face.

Riley leaves with a chuckle and the door closing, leaving me with his cats, sends my heart into my throat. I can do this. I can get through six months of being his fake girlfriend and come out completely unscathed. I can play the doting girlfriend and not get attached. I. Can. Do. This.