Rocky
"Hi. I'm Zane. Nice to meet you."
The long-haired guy sticks his hand out, and I shake it. Gently. Lesson learned on that front. I forget my own strength sometimes.
When he told me he had someone in mind to fake date, I was hoping the next word out of his mouth would be "Me."
Instead, it's Zane Matthews, his best friend. A nice-looking tall guy with long dark-blond hair and a friendly smile.
But he's not Decker.
It's three days after my initial meeting with him, and I've been holed up in my house with news vans and paparazzi still lining the street, pissing off my neighbors no end.
Having coffee and artisanal salads delivered to their houses daily is starting to wear thin, I suspect, but what else can I do?
This scandal isn't blowing over like all the others did.
I turn and greet Decker. "Good to see you again."
"You, too," he says, wearing a polished smile. "Can we come in?"
Always so professional, and wearing the shit out of a black merino tee with dark jeans and Chelseas.
"Of course." I swing the door open and follow them into my living room. "Can I get you anything? Water? Pop? Chicken and rice?"
Decker tries to hide his smile by turning away. Zane looks plain confused by my joke.
"We're good," Decker replies, sitting down at one end of the sofa.
He looks even hotter and more intriguing today than he did in the meeting room. His pale complexion offset by his dark top and the prettiness of his sun-kissed champagne curls and glacier-blue eyes sit in stark contrast to his pressed-flat lips, set jaw, and composed expression.
Despite the shitshow engulfing me, I haven't been able to get him out of my mind. The way he commands a room, his bold-faced audacity to take on my crew and kick them out, the meticulous level of detail in his report that I've read three times over, cover to cover. Dude is a powerhouse.
Not to mention he's gorgeous.
And the fact that he only comes up to my chest? Icing on the freaking cake.
"Let's get down to business…" Decker rattles off the backstory he's come up with for Zane's and my relationship. We met at the gym. Started off as friends. Bonded over being two small-town boys living in LA. Kept a low profile because we both value privacy.
This whole thing feels ridiculous, but if it gets me back to competing, then I'll do it.
The internal MoM review found nothing, no malicious intent on my part.
It's the damn FCC review that's taking forever.
MoM isn't a huge federation, so if they get slapped with a multimillion-dollar fine, they're good as gone.
Which means I won't just be responsible for ending my own career, I'll be taking down hundreds of competitors and hardworking event staff with me.
Kinda got a lot on the line here, which means I'll do whatever it takes.
Even fake a relationship with a stranger.
"Now, to get started, I need to establish what sort of chemistry you two have," Decker says, his blue eyes darting between Zane and me.
Zane takes that as an invitation to stand up and walk over to me.
"Rocky, if you could get up, too, please."
"What are we doing?" I ask, pushing to my feet.
"Establishing a connection," says the guy who I'd like to be establishing a connection with.
My throat itches, so I let out a gravelly grunt. "And how do we do that?"
"You could try…talking to each other," Decker replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Maybe it is to him, and maybe he thinks it is to me, too, because I'm big on social media, but there's a high probability I'm nowhere near as savvy as he might be assuming I am.
I fell into influencing by accident. It's a backup for when my bodybuilding days are over.
Beckett from BBA is the mastermind behind everything I do, not me.
"I'm a huge fan of yours," Zane tells me with an eager smile.
"Oh. Thanks."
"I follow all the BBA on TikTok."
"That's great."
"You're my favorite. Well, you are now. First Silas was. Then it was Tanner. Then I switched to Kynan, but that's because I'm a sucker for a single dad. But he's off the market. So now you."
Oh dear god.
I force a grin. "Cool."
"This isn't working." Decker intervenes, striding over to us.
"You know what, you don't need to talk. We won't let the cameras get close enough for that.
You just need to look like a couple. So…
" He walks over to the far side of the room, and my eyes follow his butt cheeks as they bounce with every step beneath the denim he's wearing. "Come over here to me. Together."
Zane glances at me, I give a small nod, and we barely take two steps before Decker slaps the side of his pretty face. "No, no, no. Guys, come on. You're meant to be a couple, remember?"
"What are we giving at the moment?" Zane asks.
"Two frat bros on their way to get pizza and wings," Decker replies, his hand glued to the side of his face. "Hold hands, and every once in a while, look at each other with some, you know, affection."
We step back to our starting mark. Zane sticks his hand out. I take it. It's weird to be holding a virtual stranger's hand, but Decker is right, we do have to make it seem real.
"From the top," Decker calls out.
We start walking again. Decker eyes us eagerly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zane peering up at me.
I turn to him.
He smiles.
I smile back.
There. It's not so bad.
"Oh my god. You guys stink," Decker says, letting out a painful groan. "I'd rather be held captive and made to watch a Ben Affleck movie than watch this sad display. I thought you'd been taking acting lessons, Zane."
"I have," he huffs defensively.
"I can see why," Decker mutters to himself. "And you." He points at me.
I swallow. "Yeah?"
"Can you relax a little, please? You're giving being led to the electric chair."
"Oh. Sorry."
I don't know what else to say.
"Here. Let me show you what I'm looking for. Excuse me, Zane."
Zane steps aside, and Decker takes his place beside me. "We've just had a great meal," he begins, looking straight ahead but talking to me. "It was unlimited chicken and rice night at Sandy's Surf Shack. You were in muscle bro heaven."
I crack a grin. A genuine one this time.
"It's a beautiful evening, so I suggested we take a walk by the beach.
You said, sure, on one condition. I said, what's that?
You said, when we get back to my place, we do the thing.
I played dumb, the thing? You smiled and said, you know, my favorite thing in the world apart from bodybuilding. I go, oh, right…crocheting."
My breath catches. "How do you know about that?"
He tips his chin up, his striking blue eyes gleaming. "I'm very thorough with my research."
I have no idea how he uncovered that since it's most definitely not publicly available information, but for some reason, it doesn't creep me out.
If anything, it makes me like him even more.
He's thorough and capable, and maybe with his help, I really will be able to get through my most serious PR disaster.
That's perfect," he says, running those eyes up and down me. "You're relaxed already. Stay in that zone, and take my hand."
I've been waiting to hear him say that.
I engulf his hand in mine. It fits squarely in my palm. Clasping my fingers around his, I start walking like I'm on cloud freaking nine.
We get to the end of the living room.
"Did you feel that?" he asks. "Better, right?"
"Yeah." I make a low rumbling sound to clear my rushing heartbeat from my ears. "Better."