Page 40 of Play Fake

It's so different from the last time and so tender I can barely believe it’s Waylon in front of me. I want more of him, especially this version. A version I’m not sure I even thought was possible, let alone existed. But he pulls away, his eyes half-shuttered and an unreadable expression on his face.

He looks me over one last time, studying my reaction before he steps away.

“Sleep well, Mac.” Is the last thing he says before he disappears out the back door and leaves me pondering the best fucking kiss I’ve had in my life.

FOURTEEN

Waylon

Ben,Liam and I are sitting across the table from each other in the athletes’ cafeteria after grabbing a massive dinner to make up for all the calories we just burned on the field. Two girls from the soccer team walk by and flash us flirty smiles, but I turn away and stare back down at my food. I must not be the only one disinterested because I hear an annoyed grunt from across the table.

“You two are killing me.” Ben shakes his head.

“What?” Liam glances up, a surly look on his face.

“You know what.” Ben gives us each a warning look.

“I’m over it,” Liam shrugs his shoulders unconvincingly.

“You are 100 percent not over it,” I laugh half-heartedly at my friend.

“Says the guy who can’t stop moping about a chick who hates his guts. At least for me she was my best fucking friend, and now it’s all fucking complicated, thanks to that asshole.”

“If she hates me, then why was she so eager to fuck me?”

“Hate fucking is a thing. And remind me, was that before or after she tried to fuck Ben?” Liam taunts.

Apparently, Liam wants everyone else to feel the same misery he’s feeling, but I’m not about to let him have it. He can wallow like that all on his own.

“Everyone tries to fuck Ben. They can’t help it. Look at his pretty fucking face!” I grab Ben’s jaw, pressing his lips inward like a little duck, before slapping him on the back.

Ben laughs, but Liam’s undeterred by my attempt to keep things light.

“Well, it was definitely before she had her tongue in my mouth,” he says, his lip curling up in a self-assured snarl.

I slam my fork down and pin him with a fucking glare.

“Whoooaaa,” Ben chides, holding a hand out to signal we both need to chill the fuck out.

“You stuckyourtongue inhermouth,” I gripe.

“She looked sad. Like she needed it. We were there for each other in a moment of need,” Liam shrugs.

I open my mouth to let out a string of expletives, but Ben shakes his head, sliding his hand across his throat.

“Okay. That’s enough. Liam, get your fucking shit together and stop trying to drag everyone else into your bullshit. Put your big fucking boy pants on and tell her you love her and want to be with her—“ Ben starts in on us.

“I do not want—“ Liam starts to protest.

“Shut the fuck up,” I interrupt.

“Yeah. You don’t want the commitment and all it entails, but you definitely want the girl. You stomp around her like a fucking bull enough. Literally everyone but you can see it like it’s tattooed on your damn face.”

“Well, she’s too busy with hockey players now to be my friend.”

“You think your stunt of trying to kiss one of her best friends in a room full of people might have something to do with it?” I level him with a stare.

He grumbles silently and sticks his fork in his steak several times, pushing it around the plate.