Chapter 8
Theo
M arcela is my girlfriend.
The girl I’ve been losing my mind over for the last three years is mine. Well, in a fake capacity, but I’ll take what I can get.
I feel bad that I told her I don’t lie and then lied to her face. The truth is that I like her.
A lot.
Of course I do, how could I not? She’s perfect.
But I didn’t want her to worry that I couldn’t handle this, or that our arrangement would hurt me in the end. Without a doubt, it’ll crush me, especially after getting used to having her as mine. If this is what will help her move on from the pain those assholes caused her, then I’d do it over again.
No matter how much it hurts me in the end.
And it’s not like there’s anyone else she’d rather do this with, it’s just me she trusts. Which is a privilege I don’t take lightly. So, as excited as I am, I need to keep my emotions at bay and focus on making sure this works for her.
I’m about to call it a night and toss my phone on my bedside table when it vibrates with my dad’s name flashing across the screen.
Great.
“Hey, Dad,” I answer, sitting up in bed with my back against the headboard.
“You’ve got a big game tomorrow. I’m surprised you’re still up,” he points out.
It’s only ten o’clock, but I don’t bother bringing that up.
“I’m excited. Can’t sleep just yet,” I lie, because my excitement is not related to tomorrow’s game. Not even close.
“I remember those days,” he hums. “I’ll be there tomorrow, and I can’t wait to cheer you on in the stands.”
My stomach knots wildly, knowing if I make a single mistake he’ll lecture me about it for days.
“What about Ally, David, and Mason?” I ask, referring to my sister, her husband, and my nephew.
“We’ll all be there, cheering you on as you do great things tomorrow,” he confirms, sending anxiety coursing through my veins.
I grab my fidget cube I keep close by to give my hands something to do and distract myself.
“Can’t wait,” I say, mustering what I hope sounds like joy into my voice.
“How’re classes going? You staying focused?”
Here we go.
“It’s only the first week, but they’re good. And of course, I always am.” I roll my eyes, not that he can see.
“That’s what I like to hear. At this point in your career, women are only after one thing and it’s your future dollar signs. Keep to yourself, get me?” His commanding voice hits me right in the stomach, where my anxiety permanently lives, igniting it further.
I can’t hide Marcela and I being together from him, even if it’s fake, like I’m able to do with my hatred for football. I told her I’m in on this, and if my dad sees, then I’ll deal with the repercussions of it when the time comes.
He’s dictated my career, but I’ll be damned if I let him dictate anything that relates to her.
“Yeah, Dad. Listen, I’m going to get some sleep. See you tomorrow.” I hang up on him before he can respond, needing to center myself before I drift off. Otherwise, I’ll toss and turn all night, which isn’t ideal before a game.
Plugging my phone to its charger, I roll over in bed and start doing breathing exercises. After a couple of minutes, my stomachache goes away and my spinning thoughts begin to settle.
Thankfully, I dream of honey-brown eyes and freckles that night.