16. Cassandra
The tinny upbeatnotes of a battle blared. I sat cross-legged on Diego’s couch with him beside me.
“What exactly are you doing here?” Diego asked, mouth filled with lo mein.
“I’m catching the dumb bird. What does it look like?” My box of fried rice forgotten, I leaned forward, concentrating on the screen. “I just need to get this guy out of the way.”
“Is that an elephant or some sort of hyena with a giant tongue?” Diego grabbed a slice of a scallion pancake off the spread of food on the coffee table and held it up to my mouth. I ate it out of his hand, eyes plastered on the screen.
“No idea. Rabid dog?” I threw the last of my greens at the bird on screen and crossed my fingers I’d kill the mystery creatures before the bird ran away.
“You’ve got him. Wait, no, no, no.”
Too late. The blade beam I’d meant to go after the rabid dog hit the chocobo. The bird attacked everyone on screen and ran. I threw down the remote, tilting my head back onto the couch. “I am terrible at this game.”
Diego leaned forward and placing his noodles amongst the rest of the food. When he leaned back, he set his elbow on the back of the couch, bridging the center seat. “And even though you’re terrible, I’d still wear your jersey.”
I grinned, fingers brushing against the clean jersey I’d pulled on. It didn’t smell like turf and Diego, but it also wasn’t covered in grass stains. “I don’t think they give out jerseys for playing Final Fantasy. And I’m sorry about the jersey thing. I thought it’d be funnier.”
“It’s fine. You motivated me.”
I almost believed him too, but the increasingly pissed off texts from my sister countered his narrative.
“Hey, I wanted to mention something that happened at the press conference.”
His tone shifted and I turned to face him. “What’s that?”
“One of the local reporters....” He frowned, shaking his head. “They got your name. That you’re Becca’s sister. I don’t know whether he figured that out during the whole half time thing or earlier.”
My cheeks grew hot. The whole half time thing.
The jersey had been a joke, but there was nothing funny about Diego’s reaction. If I’d run the idea by Becca, she would have told me how childish I was acting. How distracting something like that would be to Diego. I wouldn’t have listened to her, of course.
And worse than that, I’d found Diego’s reaction hot. Like scorching, searingly hot. I wouldn’t have said I had a thing for jealous men, but clearly, he’d tapped into some subconscious desire that made me manifest that kiss. Because how else had it happened?
My breath caught in my throat the second I spotted him on the stairs, heading in my direction. The panic that had turned to lust switched to something else completely when his lips brushed mine.
The kiss had been barely a kiss. A faint impression of a kiss, but I hadn’t felt right since. Everything felt fuzzy and new and exciting.
“Oh,” I said, barely able to hear him over the rushing in my ears and my heart beating at the thought of the hardly worth mentioning kiss.
“Obviously, if someone didn’t find out, James would have leaked it.” He paused. “I just don’t like it.”
Maybe I definitely had a thing for jealous guys. But Diego, as charming and vaguely possessive as he was, was not for me. Diego was for statuesque women with millions of dollars in their bank account and city view apartments.
“It’s fine. I’m not famous, like some people in this house, but you bounded up into the stands and stripped for me. So pretty important.” The hint of a blush washed over his face. Enough to make my stomach tumble. “And that means we sold the whole fake dating thing, right? If I’m on a reporter’s radar?”
“Yeah,” he answered slowly. “I guess we sold it.”
He’s certainly sold it to me. Too well. “How tired are you?”
He picked up his head. “Not bad. The first game is always the worst. It’ll get easier as the season goes on.”
“I can get out of here, if you want. Call a ride.”
He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t do that. Keep playing. I might just lay down for a bit.”
I pulled a throw pillow onto my lap, patting it.
Diego shot me a lopsided grin and laid down, his hair brushing my pants and my fingers itching to rub it. “Now, go catch a bird.”
* * *
Curled up under the covers with no reason to jump out of bed. I had it all: warmth, quiet, and nothing scheduled all day. No roommates itching to use the living room. No utility bill looming. No well-meaning family members asking whether I’d decided to go back to school or found a full-time job.
And I had yesterday. After Diego fell asleep on my lap, I played video games for another two hours before calling a car and slipping out while he snoozed on the couch.
Not that I didn’t want to stay. My focus kept slipping from the screen and onto Diego. He had a great grin. A cocky, self-assured grin that made his entire face light up in a way that filled my entire body with warmth. But having him in my lap, completely unguarded and relaxed made my stomach ache and my chest tighten. I replayed the kiss, embellishing details until the innocent kiss slipped into more R-rated territory.
My phone buzzed on the side table, and I fumbled from under the covers to grab it.
BECCA
Seriously, Cassie? This is a little much.
I clicked on the image attached to the accusatory morning text.
No wonder Becca messaged me. A picture of Diego and I wrapped in a kiss filled the screen, a slew of spectators gawking at us. I wore his stained jersey, and Diego had his hands under the fabric, gripping my waist. During the game, the kiss felt intimate and reserved, but judging by the picture, we’d been anything but. The kiss looked hot, steamy, and definitely not G-rated based on Lena covering Mila’s eyes on the right hand side of the photo.
But it was a perfect morning, and I didn’t need my big sister’s negativity. Diego and I had a contract, a plan. Of course, there’d be kissing. And with Diego’s cadre of acting exes, he learned from the best. Had it taken me off guard? Yes, but I wouldn’t let it happen again.
Instead of replying to my grouchy sister, I sent the picture to Diego.
Well, we caused a ruckus.
The text stayed on “Delivered” and I swiped away.
Notifications peppered my screen. A text from Kendall asking if I could cover a couple shifts followed by wide eyes emojis and the picture. An email from a Norwalk club, asking if I wanted a VIP booth and maybe I could bring Diego. A publicist who wanted to know who handled my socials.
Diego’s face covered the screen, and I answered the call. A frisson of excitement raced through me, and I stamped it back down, waiting for two rings before answering.
“Good morning,” I purred into the phone.
“It’s nearly eleven.”
“Still morning. How’s it going?”
“Not great. I had a girl at my place last night and she took off in the middle of the night.” A hint of disappointment threaded his voice.
“She left a note.”
“She scribbled ‘Night’ onto a box of lo mein.”
“Which she put in the fridge before she took off. You’re welcome.”
“You could have stayed. Or woken me up.”
I wrapped my arms around my knees, drawing them in. “You looked very peaceful, and I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You’re never a bother.”
“You haven’t talked to my family,” I said with an uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, you saw the picture? I’m afraid we torpedoed James’ plan of you having a nice, normal, low-key relationship this season.”
My grip tightened on the phone as a beat of silence passed. I waited for Diego to tell me the kiss was a mistake. Or a joke gone too far. Or great acting. Something to dissipate how very real the kiss felt.
“We look pretty good together.”
I sighed. “We do.”
“And I wouldn’t worry about James. He’s thrilled with the press and thrilled you can’t break up with me before the holidays.”
“I’m flattered he thinks I’d break up with you. I’m pretty sure it’d be the other way around.”
“And cut you off from my video games before you breed a golden bird? No chance. And, considering the win, the coaches aren’t mad either.”
“What about Trent?”
“Screw Trent.”
“Hey, fuck you too.” Trent’s voice was tinny and faraway but pointed.
I laughed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt practice.”
“It’s fine. I need a distraction. We’re watching game film and tomorrow is my day off. You want to hang out?”
The invitation took me off guard and I held back an immediate yes, absolutely.
“I might have some free time tomorrow.”
“Some free time?”
“Alright, I don’t have jack tomorrow. Shockingly, Tuesday isn’t a big day for bars or tours.”
“What about home repairs?”
“Not tomorrow. I’m helping tile a shower on Thursday, though.”
“Good. Disc golf?”
“Yeah, that sounds fun.” I paused. “Side note, I woke up to a bunch of invitations to clubs and bars. Is it okay if I accept some of these? I only ask because I’m fairly sure they’re inviting me because of our picture and not because I’m new in town or the best ghost tour operator in Norwalk.”
“You don’t know that. You are the best ghost tour operator on the eastern seaboard. I’ve heard multiple people say so.”
I smiled. “Very true. The invitations probably have nothing to do with you then.”
“Probably not. Any of them for tomorrow? We could go out dancing after disc golf.”
“You dance?”
“I kill on the dance floor.”
“Wait, you’re going out? Can I come?” the faraway voice asked again.
“I’m going with Cassandra, not you,” Diego’s muffled voice replied.
“Cassie would want me to come, right, Cas?” Trent’s voice grew louder as he wrestled the phone from Diego.
“I’d love to see you, Trent.”
“Awesome,” Trent answered cheerfully. “Hey, Frankie! Want to go out dancing with Cassie tomorrow night?”
Diego came back over the line. “Seriously?”
“I didn’t invite them to disc golf.” I shouldn’t have invited them to the club, but something about getting under Diego’s skin was just too enticing. “And it’ll be fun.”
“You clearly haven’t gone out drinking with Trent before.” Diego sighed.
“Do you think I need a publicist?”
“What? Why would you need a publicist?”
“Well, you just said I’m the preeminent ghost tour operator in the United States and people have noticed. I got a message from someone who wants to represent me.”
Diego grumbled. “Those vultures.”
“No, she seems real legit,” I said, scanning over the email. “She says she can get me involved in a skincare brand.”
“A skincare brand?”
“Yeah, doesn’t really seem like me, does it?” I asked, teasing out a chuckle from the other end of the line. “I’m going to suggest a clothing line.”
“Really?”
“Maybe a pyramid scheme opportunity where you strip dirty jerseys off players.”
“You’re not stripping jerseys off any other players.” Diego’s stern reply made my heart rate skyrocket.
“Not me. But I could teach other people to do it. Oh, like a master class!”
“A master class on how to annoy pro athletes into giving you free stuff?”
I grinned. “See, it’s something I’m good at.”
Diego sighed. “Alright, I should get back, but I’ll see you tomorrow? Ten?”
“That’s awful early. I’ll see you then.”