Chapter 3 Hollis #2
I wrap my arms around her and let my hands come together at the small of her back. She’s pushed against me, the curve of her breasts pressed snugly against the firm wall of my chest.
As I listen to her melodic giggle, I forget all about Sebastian and the show we’re supposed to be putting on. Instead, I’m searching her eyes for a sign of what she really wants to do from this point forward.
Because I know what I want to do. And I have a room across the street in which to do it.
“Did you know,” she says, sticking her fingers in my belt loop, “that just before I met you, I’d sworn off men? Like literally the moment before I met you.”
“Well, I do always love a challenge.”
She laughs. “You sort of fell into my life right when I needed you.”
“Are you saying I’m an angel? Because I’ve been called that before.”
Songs are written about smiles like the one on her face. It’s a picture of a split second in time without worry—clear of any reservations or stress. And after all the hell I’ve been through in the past few months with letting my team down during every game, it’s nice to be helpful for once.
And it’s really nice having her in my arms.
“I need to get back to Catherine,” Sebastian says from beside us. “It was nice seeing you.”
“Goodbye, Sebastian,” Larissa says without looking at him.
Instead, she looks at me.
We stand next to the bar with our arms around one another as though we’ve known each other for longer than five minutes. With each passing second, the look on our faces grows lighter and lighter until we eventually burst out into laughter.
“What the heck do we have here?” A woman slides up beside us as she tosses a strand of hair over her shoulder. Her face is painted into pure amusement.
Larissa’s arms drop from my waist, and she takes a step back. She turns toward her friend. “I thought you were busy with Suit?”
The other girl shakes her head side to side. “I was, but then I look over, and here you are, taking my advice.” Her bottom lip sticks out. “I’m so proud.”
Both women look at me, but neither says a word. Feeling put on the spot, I shrug.
“I’m Hollis,” I tell her. “Larissa’s fake boyfriend.”
“Well, I’m Bellamy, her best friend, and I feel like I just missed something huge.”
Larissa looks at me, and her eyes shine. I’m drawn to her energy. It’s clean. Happy. It’s strangely comforting and exciting at the same time.
“Sebastian was walking up,” Larissa says, turning to Bellamy. “And I just … Hollis was standing here, and I thought …” She makes a face. “I don’t even know what I thought, to be honest.”
“You thought I was hot,” I say with a grin.
Bellamy bursts out laughing as Larissa hides her face.
A stunning, red-lipped siren by all accounts, Larissa’s friend looks similar to many of the women I’ve hooked up with in the past. Yet tonight, the curvy little pistol has captured my attention.
“It’s okay,” I tease Larissa. “I’m used to it. It’s hard to be me.”
“I bet it is,” Bellamy says with a grin.
I shrug like I might be kidding, but I’m not.
From the outside, it looks like my life must be sunshine and roses. Guys on campus want to be me. Girls want to be with me—mostly. This season kind of put a damper on all that. Social media pundits profess my prowess, and half of my professors call me out in class just to say my damn name.
No one thinks about the impossibility of figuring out who, if anyone, is real in my life. Who likes me for me and who likes me because of what they see on television? It’s a difficult question to answer and one that’ll get you all screwed up if you get it wrong.
Which I’ve done.
And hope to never do again.
Bellamy smacks her lips together and looks at her friend. “I’m going to go swap numbers with Suit. You going home with Hollis or me?”
“You,” Larissa answers immediately.
It’s such a quick response that I almost object. Almost. While it burns my ego a smidgen, I have to respect her decision. It’s the logical one. Not the fun one but the one that makes sense.
“Cool. Find me when you’re done.” Bellamy turns and looks at me. “Nice job, Hollis. Thanks for bailing out my girl.”
I glance at my watch. “She’s still my girl, thank you very much.”
I wink at Larissa. She pulls her eyes away from me and tries to hide her smile.
Bellamy shakes her head. “Stay out of trouble,” she tells Larissa before tossing me a little wave and heading back to their table.
Larissa watches her friend disappear into the restaurant. I shove a hand in my pocket and try to decide where to go from here.
Before I have it figured out, she flips her gaze to mine.
The air between us thickens. Larissa pulls the collar of her dress away from her body. My attention snaps to the movement, and she raises a brow when she catches me eyeing her. I grin.
“Thank you,” she says, letting the fabric rest against her skin.
“For what?”
“For helping me with Sebastian. I’m standing here trying to decide if I should’ve done that. It feels kind of awkward now.”
“Why? Wasn’t I a good fake boyfriend?”
She laughs. “You were the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” I blow out a breath, hoping that the extra oxygen cools my blood a bit. “Who was Sebastian, anyway? An old boyfriend?”
She nods. “He doesn’t even like me, really. He’s just a dick.”
“I have to agree with that opinion. At least the part about him being a dick.”
Our gazes linger together, searching each other for the next step.
Do we just part ways?
Do I buy her a drink?
Do I even get her last name?
“Thanks again, Hollis. I appreciate it.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“So, what? That’s it?”
The questions come too quickly to be able to play it off smoothly. Even if she’s not going home with me, that doesn’t mean we have to end things now.
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“You don’t want a drink or something?”
“It’s been five minutes. Your job here is done.”
I balk. “But isn’t that what women don’t want from men? Every time it’s only five minutes, all you hear are complaints.”
She swats at me again, her laughter washing over me. The slight contact is enough to make my blood run hot again.
“You are a handful,” she tells me.
“You could find out …”
She bites her lip and laughs. She’s even prettier now than she was just a few minutes ago.
I clear my throat. “All joking aside, I’ll be in town for a week or so. If you want my number, I could give it to you in case you run into any more scenarios where you need a fake boyfriend. Or … whatever …”
She wrinkles her nose. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”
“I don’t see how.”
She tilts her head to the side as she mulls something over. Finally, she shrugs. “Pass me your phone.”
I unlock it and hand it to her.
She looks at me suspiciously but takes it anyway.
Her fingers fly over the screen in a flurry. Soon, she’s handing it back to me with a relieved smile.
“I put my name in and texted myself, so I have your number too,” she says. “Just in case.”
“Of course.”
“Of course.” She laughs softly. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you around. Maybe.”
“Sounds good.”
And with that, I watch her walk across the room and disappear through a set of French doors.
Before I can think twice, I pivot on my heel and exit onto the street. My phone still in my hand, I open my texting app.
Me: Blonde. Crew wins.