Chapter Five
Katie
If I had known tonight was going to be an ambush, I would’ve just stayed home. Or at the bar. Anything would’ve been better than hearing Ivy go on and on about how Flynn Reed needs my help.
“He’s a nice guy,” Ivy says for the millionth time tonight. I nod in reply because I have run out of things to say.
After Italy, I never told Ivy what happened between Flynn and me. All she knows is that one day, we were flirting with one another, laughing and smiling at our inside jokes and getting closer by the day, and then the next, I hated him.
I never told her that I know just how nice Flynn really is.
That I know how he can make you laugh to the point of running out of breath, or feel at ease with a simple touch.
I never mentioned that I knew how he could make a girl smile with a simple few words whispered quietly into their ear, or turn them on with only a look.
Me and every other girl he’s ever come across.
I would like to think I’m special. I would like to think the moves he used on me were for me alone, but that would be na?ve of me. He’s Flynn Reed. Boston Broncos tight end. Infamous for having woman after woman on his arm at events. A big, fat flirt.
We got swept up in the Italian summer of it all.
I got swept up.
“Please, Katie? Please, please, will you help?” Ivy begs. I look up from my place on her couch. She’s sitting at the coffee table, her school work spread out in front of her as she sorts a pile of finger paintings into different colored folders.
“Sorry, Ives, I was a million miles away for a moment there. What are you asking me?”
“Flynn needs a fake girlfriend for the season.”
The glass in my hand nearly slips through my fingers as my jaw goes slack. “He what?”
“Katie, weren’t you listening to anything I have been saying?” She sighs and turns to face me. “So, ever since the footage of Flynn hitting that guy outside Pat’s got leaked, he’s been in huge trouble with the team. Like, Scott said that they told Hollie to start looking elsewhere for him to sign.”
“Oh my god, what?” Flynn is one of the better tight ends in the league. I can’t believe the Broncos would drop him over a video.
“Apparently, he hasn’t been playing all that well lately, and they think he’s distracted. Unstable. The video just came out at the wrong time. Poor Flynn.” She takes her wine glass from the coffee table and sips it. “Scott says he’s having confidence issues.”
“Flynn Reed? Confidence issues?”
“Yep.” She takes another sip. When she sets the glass down on the table, her mouth opens like she has something else she wants to say, but she shakes her head a little.
“What is it?” I prompt.
“Huh? Nothing,” she replies, her head still shaking from side to side. “It’s nothing.”
“Ivy.” I sigh. “Just say it. You know you want to.”
Ivy glances toward the hallway that leads to the stairs. Scott is redoing their guest bathroom at the moment, and every so often, we hear a thud or groan coming from the floor above.
“Should he be renovating during the season? What if he hurts himself?” I ask, amused a little as a string of curse words filters down to us from upstairs.
“He won’t listen to me. Insists on doing the demo himself.” Ivy shakes her head. She gets off the ground, grabs her glass, and takes a seat on the couch next to me. “So, Scott was telling me that Flynn has been having doubts about whether he wants to even stay in the league.”
“Jesus. And he told Scott this?”
“Well, no. Scott overheard him talking to his mother. Who, apparently, has never been all that supportive of his career choice. She even tried to talk him out of entering the draft.”
“Really?” I lean forward. Flynn never mentioned this to me. All the talks we had, all the late-night chats, and not once did he mention anything about his parents being unsupportive.
“He denies it, I think, and Scott says she’s nice, but she make comments about him not being as good as other players.
Little digs that he shouldn’t be in the NFL.
” Ivy shakes her head. “Which is crazy because Flynn is one of the best damn tight ends I’ve ever seen.
Scott thinks so, too. When his head’s in the game. ”
“And his head hasn’t been in the game lately?”
“I think he’s been distracted. Uncle Jeff is even getting frustrated with him not playing to his full potential.”
“So because he’s been distracted, he needs a fake girlfriend?”
“No. He needs a fake girlfriend to help show the team he can be dependable again. To show he’s in a stable relationship and therefore stable in his home life.
He’s in a contract year. If he doesn’t prove it to them, they’re going to release him.
” Ivy nods like I should have known all this, and it should make sense to me.
“That’s where you come in. You’d be his fake girlfriend, help him show the team he’s fine, and then at the end of the season, after he signs his contract, you guys can break up. ”
“That’s insane.”
Ivy giggles. “That’s what Flynn said.”
“Seriously, though, a fake girlfriend? That kind of stuff is romance novel worthy. It doesn’t happen in real life,” I say.
“Apparently, it does. Justin and Hailey. Tom and Zendaya. Kylie and Tim—”
“No way. Absolutely not. There is no way that Kylie and Timothée are faking it.” I cuddle my wine close to my chest and shake my head furiously. “Their chemistry is unmatched.”
“Well, apparently it’s how they started, but now they’re the real thing.” Ivy nods. “I agree. I love them together.”
“He’s so cute. And she deserves a guy like him. The love loudly kind.” I sigh, ignoring the dull stabbing pain in my chest.
“Agreed.” She holds up her glass, and I clink mine against it. She takes a sip and eyes me over the rim. “Please. Will you please agree to help Flynn?”
I close my eyes and lean back into the couch cushions. Agree to help him? What does that even mean? I don’t want a front row seat to his flirting with other women. I’ve had one and I hated it. And, I don’t want to get sucked back into his web of charm, that sexual pull.
“I can’t, Ives. It’s too … it’s just not a good idea.”
“Okay,” Ivy says, taking a deep breath. She leans over to set her wine glass on the coffee table before taking mine from my hands and placing it down next to hers. She sits up on her knees and takes my hands in hers. “I know whatever happened between the two of you in Italy rattled you—”
Railed me, more like.
“—but I am begging you to consider it. You can get out of your parents’ house while also still saving money.
You will be around the corner from me, and we can hang out, like, all the time, and you can come to all the games with me.
Even the ones I was going to travel to this year.
Plus, Flynn is like a brother to Scott. I know he doesn’t show his emotions all the time, but he would be devastated if Flynn got released. ”
“Your boyfriend is a giant, soft teddy bear. I hope you know that.” I sigh and look at Ivy. She’s using her best puppy dog eyes and practically begging me with her expression.
“Urgh, fine,” I groan. “I will talk to him. Only talk. I am not agreeing to anything—”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Ivy squeals, falling forward and onto me for a hug. I laugh and wrap my arms around her.
“You have to promise me that next time we go away, I can sit next to you on the flight.”
She grins. “Deal.”
“Really? That’s going to fly with the big guy?”
“I’ll bribe him with airplane sex. Easy.”
I scrunch up my nose, laughing. “Gross.”
***
The front of Flynn’s brownstone is so clean. Where Ivy’s house is covered in vines and weathered bricks, Flynn’s is so … new. There’s no greenery climbing the walls or big trees casting shadows across the brick. The garden is bare, and the stony path beneath my feet is too white.
I clutch the strap of my bag as I make my way to the front door and once again, try to convince myself this is the right thing to do.
Ivy made some good points. I do need to get out of my parents’ house if I am going to have a chance at figuring out what the hell I want to do with my life.
And, yes, it would be nice to be closer to her rather than across town.
And, obviously, the box seats to every home game would also be a bonus.
For the briefest of moments, I imagine the look on Grant’s face if he found out I was sitting in a box for the season. If he saw me at the games, on the field before and after, mingling with the players. Would he be jealous? Would he be mad?
I suck in a sharp breath and stop myself from taking another step. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, saying the same mantra over and over in my head that I have been for months.
He didn’t care then, and he won’t care now. I want nothing to do with him, even if he’s changed his mind.
I say it once, twice, and a third time for good measure before allowing myself to continue on.
My point was, I could see this as a chance to get myself back on my feet.
If I’m not at home with the constant questions on what I’m doing or if I’ve decided, then maybe I just might have enough room to figure out whatever it is I do want.
And, I could save some proper money. I don’t regret walking away from my relationship with Grant. It was for the best. But in doing so, I walked away with nothing, and there was no way I was planning to grovel back, asking for my share of anything in that house.
I never wanted to set foot inside the place ever again. In fact, never might be too soon.
I shake my head again. I need to focus on the task at hand.
The terms. The rules.
I lift my fist to knock, but the door opens before I get a chance, and I’m left standing there, my arm suspended in mid air.
“Why does it take you a lifetime to walk up a path?”
I narrow my gaze. “Were you watching me?”
“Yes.”
“So honest.”
“Always am.”
I scoff. “Liar.”
Something in Flynn’s gaze softens, and it makes my stomach twist. “Katie—”