Page 69 of Play Fake

“And he has a thing for you.”

“He has a thing for fucking anything that walks.”

“He’s a football player,” Olivia interjects. “Cut him a little slack. They’re athletes in their prime. They get a lot of pussy on a plate served up whenever they want. It’s hard for them to resist.”

“Pussy on a plate, really Liv?” Wren chides.

“Fine. A lot of eager, beautiful young women. Better?” Olivia counters.

“Marginally,” Wren grumps.

Olivia’s being awfully democratic about the idea of athletes sleeping with an array of women. When I’m certain there’s one in particular, she wishes wouldn’t. I want to commiserate with her, but I also don’t want to press her on it before she’s ready to talk. But the curiosity is starting to kill me.

“Is enjoying it while it lasts not an option?” Wren returns to the subject of Waylon, sounding a little bored.

“Yes? No? I don’t know. I mean, I want to… again. But they’re all so, so hedonistic about it all. Like a bunch of hippies who fuck whoever whenever and no one cares.”

“At least they’re honest about it, rather than you know, creeps who do that anyway but keep it from you?” Wren says it so matter-of-factly.

Ezra and his little red-head pop into my mind and my gut still churns a little at the imagined memory of them together.

“Fair enough.” I grump.

“What’s going on with him, anyway?” Olivia glances up from her phone.

“Ezra?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s still been bugging me about listening to that song. Ally reached out because they’ve got another gig.”

“One we might be able to make this time? I can bring a crowbar to take out his knees,” Olivia offers nonchalantly.

“Maybe. I miss her, and the rest of them. The band. Maybe even Ezra a little. I just used to spend so much time with them and I kind of want to go back to normal, but it feels like it can’t ever be normal again.”

It’s strange when I think about it. I always attended the parties at our house, even if it meant dragging Ezra kicking and screaming to them. I set time aside for Olivia and Wren each week. Girls’ night was sacred. But Ally and the band had been my people. My go-tos. And being so irrevocably separated from them after I found out Ezra had cheated had pretty much divided my life into two entirely different worlds. The time before and the time after.

And this post-Ezra era, where I spent all my free time out of school and work with athletes? It feels like an out-of-body experience. Hitting frat parties and fucking around with Waylon Prescott seemed like a fever dream compared to the safety of my nerdy little group of artists and musicians. It wasn’t bad, just different. So very different.

“Has he tried to win you back?” Olivia questions, and I wonder at her sudden interest in Ezra.

“He wrote a song. He wanted to play it for me in person, but I avoided it, and he finally sent it to me to listen to yesterday.”

“And?” Wren and Olivia both have their eyes locked on me.

“It’s good. Great, if I try to be objective. But he was always good with words like that. With songs. That’s what got me into trouble in the first place.”

“But you like it…?” Olivia narrows her eyes at me.

I like Waylon.

The thought hits me hard. I have a crush on Waylon. I miss Waylon. I like Waylon. Sure, he fucks like a god and looks like one too, but he’s funny and sweet. Our banter is like… nothing I’ve ever known before. Definitely nothing like what I had with Ezra.

But Waylon might as well have “not available” tattooed on his chest. He’s very available for sex. He’s made that clear. But for anything else? It’s uncharted territory for him and something it’s obvious he’s had no interest in exploring.

And I—the opposite of everything about his world—will not change that. The sooner I accept that, the better. Then I can choose whether to cautiously enjoy the fun of being single and sleeping with him or guarding my heart and steering well clear.

“Mac? Are you going to give him a chance?” Olivia asks in a tone that tells me it’s not the first time.