Chapter 31 Colton
THIRTY-ONE
COLTON
OCTOBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
“Why in the flying fuck were you at a college party? At the hockey house of all places? Making out with your girlfriend while underage drinking took place all around you?”
With each sentence, I sank deeper into the chair across from Coach’s desk. “Do you want the real answer?”
He made a scrunched up face of utmost pain and shook his head. “Do I?”
I pressed my lips into a line, trying to figure out how to say it without exposing the bookish part and Vi’s healing journey. “She’s my college girlfriend—”
“You’re dating a girl in college?” The team’s PR rep, Miranda, sat up straight in the chair next to me, jotting notes on a legal pad and wearing a sweatsuit since it was a Saturday.
I’d have to send her something nice. I felt like a real shithead for having people come in on their day off because I wanted to act out some book scene with Violet.
And anyway, why did everyone think I was dating a college student?
“No, she’s the girl I dated while I was in college, okay?
And we were feeling nostalgic and I honestly didn’t know we were at the hockey house.
” The memory of Vi pointing out the jersey on the wall nagged at me.
Better to not mention that part. The fewer details, the better.
“You couldn’t have gone to a college bar?” Coach asked.
Well, sure, we could have, but the college romance took place at a house party, and for authenticity’s sake—
“Pay attention, Jones!” Coach barked.
“Sorry, sorry.” Guess I’d zoned out. “I know it was a little reckless, but I still don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought we’d get in trouble.”
Miranda coughed a humorless laugh. “Well, for starters, there’s a high probability that some or all of those kids were underage, and as the responsible adults on the premises, you could be liable if something bad happened that night.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“And from a morality standpoint, you’re a leader at the highest level of your sport. You’re not supposed to be getting caught in places you have no business being.”
I winced and bobbed my head. “Understood.”
“They could also say you’re distracted, and not playing well because of that,” she stated plainly.
I objected. “I am playing well!”
Coach put a hand out to calm me. “He is. About the only one playing well, actually.”
“Okay, well, people could say you’re not acting like a leader.” She didn’t look up from where she scribbled notes. “Who is your girlfriend’s employer?”
“She’s actually . . . just a friend.”
Coach flopped back in his rolling chair and Miranda closed her eyes to prepare for his lecture.
“What is this, high school? Do you need to issue her a promposal? You were all over her! I know the kids these days never want to put ‘labels’ on anything, but I’ve got a team to run, and your bullshit is going to be fixed exactly how she—” he pointed to Miranda— “decides it should be fixed. If she says she’s your girlfriend, then she’s your girlfriend. Got it?”
Yes, I was massively in the doghouse. Yes, my team was my top priority, and fixing this had to occur at any cost.
But I had to advocate for Vi’s needs. She’d been clear that we just needed to be friends while she’s working through the tough stuff.
“I feel like I should at least talk to her,” I said. “She has a job to think about too.”
“Yeah, back to that,” Miranda said. “Where does she work?”
“She works in one of the university buildings, but I’m not sure who signs her paycheck. She’s a researcher. Scientist.”
Miranda grimaced. “People have been let go for less.”
“Fuck.” I put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I didn’t want Violet to get in trouble. What if she lost her job over this? She might never forgive me.
Miranda sat up and held up one finger while she scribbled some notes at the bottom of the page, circling them in a way that could only be described as violent. “Coach, do you know the university’s coach?”
Coach spread his thumb and forefinger across his brow. “I do.”
“Okay. Give him a call and offer an intensive clinic hosted by loverboy here. Smooth things over a little bit. Build some good will so the kids don’t act out.
Then here’s the story. You, Jonesy, are mentoring their captain.
You were in their house because you met with them after your game.
Your girlfriend came to meet you there because you were late for dinner plans. End of story.”
“At 11 p.m.? After my game?” I asked.
Miranda threw her hands up. “Fine! You were taking her out for a nightcap. Who cares? Stay vague. It’s nobody’s business.
I’ll send a cease and desist to Slapped Shot and pay off whoever sent the video.
With that and the clinic you’re going to hold, everything should be handled.
If it continues to circulate past a day or two, the official line is that you and your girlfriend thought you were having a private moment before you left for your date. Sound good?”
I hesitated. “Does she have to be my girlfriend?”
Miranda rolled her lips between her teeth. “It’s nobody’s business what you do in your private life, Colt. We all know that. But that doesn’t mean people won’t be on you about being a player. You need to come out of this as squeaky clean as possible. If you say she’s a one night stand—”
“She is not a one night stand,” I cut in.
She sighed. “Okay. She’s your friend. But it’ll look better if she’s your girlfriend.”
I nodded as my stomach roiled. “I need to talk to Violet.”
Miranda gave me a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you go call her? You’re starting to turn green.”
I stood and headed for the door.
“Jones!” he barked just before the doorknob hit my back.
I popped my head in. “Yes, Coach?”
“You’re scratched the next game. Know that.”
“Yes, sir.” Now I had two reasons to have a mouth full of sand.
This could go wrong in so many different ways.
Violet could laugh in my face. She could say this was just casual.
She could say she didn’t have time for a relationship like she did every other time.
She could tell me I’m not like that to her.
These weren’t the conditions under which I wanted to ask her to be with me. This could be the thing that ended things for good. But before she heard it from someone else, I needed to ask her.
I pulled up Violet’s contact and pressed to call her.
“Hey, how’d it go?”
The way she answered already made me want to cry, if I was a crying kind of person. She was so gentle. She was worried about me. Meanwhile, I was way more worried about how this affected her.
“Hey, um, okay. Still in the middle of it. So, listen . . .” I clawed my hair between my fingertips.
“What?” She sounded terrified, and I realized I’d been silent a little too long.
“Sorry.” My heart pounded and I let out a shaky breath. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this—”
“Everyone knows I sucked you off in a college house bathroom?”
“What? No. At least I hope not. But you might want to call your boss. They think your job might be at risk since you were fraternizing with students and underage drinking was happening around us.”
Violet was quiet for a long time. “Okay. I’ll talk to Margot.”
“Okay?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Colt. I have to deal with the consequences. I’m technically paid by the National Science Foundation, not the school. But I’m not sure what stuff might be in my contract.”
“Oh. I guess that helps.”
“Yeah,” she said. “And Margot and I have known each other a few years. She’s pretty easygoing. I mean, it’s not great, and kinda awkward, but I’m not too worried. What about your job? What did the team say?”
I looked up at the ceiling. “They, uh . . . god, this is going to sound bad.”
Violet’s voice was tiny. “What?”
“I need you to be my girlfriend. Officially. To show that you weren’t some random girl, or not a college girl or whatever. And it’ll help your reputation too, so people don’t think you were also randomly at the college house, where you shouldn’t have been. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, it makes sense,” she said.
“I know that’s not what you want or what you’re ready for.” God, how was I going to say this?
“You need me to be your fake girlfriend.” Her voice was flat. “Right? That’s what you’re asking?”
“Fake?” The word rippled over me. Of course. In the books, fake dating happened all the time. It was in the college book. You pretended to date someone to cover up some lie.
“I can do fake,” she rushed out. “You’re doing so much to help me. I want to do whatever you need. I owe you so much.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “You can say no to this.”
Fuck, I didn’t want it to be fake. But she needed it to be fake.
Fake gave her space to work through her shit.
And it made me feel sick to think about it, but fake ensured she wasn’t just agreeing to be my girlfriend to appease me.
Fake left the door open for her to really choose me down the road.
I’d never trust it if we got together under these circumstances, where our mistake forced her to choose me.
Ultimately, fake protected both of us: my heart, her healing.
Fake kept that tiny, fraying string between us intact for a little while longer.
But god, I longed for that string to snap. I stared at the string with laser-like focus, watching thread after thread peel away with each cuddle, each word uttered when we touched each other, each honest confession.
Fake was for the best, but the disappointment reigned supreme.
“No, Colt. Seriously. It’s nothing. We can still have our arrangement, unless you don’t want that anymore.”
Fake did not mean canceling our arrangement—at least not to me. “No! Nothing has to change. Just, publicly, you’re my girlfriend. It’ll say you’re my girlfriend if we end up having to issue a statement.”
“Will it mention my name?” she asked, her voice timid.
“Not if you don’t want it to. I’m sure some internet sleuth or middle schooler who’s obsessed with the team already knows your name, but I’m not volunteering it.”
A quiet breath whooshed from her end. “Okay. It’s crazy but it weirdly makes sense. Let’s do this. Boyfriend.”
“Girlfriend,” I said back, a pang shooting through me.
“Romantic fuck buddy,” she joked.
It wasn’t a joke to me. I wanted everything. Every part of her. But all I could hope for was anything she was willing to give me.
That had to be good enough. Because having her in my life this way beat not having her in my life at all.