Chapter 14 Ellie
FOURTEEN
Ellie
Rachel told me to tell you good job today at the interview. Apparently, the chemistry, in her words, ‘felt very real’
I knew I liked her. Plus, I’m a natural.
A natural at fake dating??
Well, we can make the fake part optional if you want.
My schedule was packed straight through Christmas. I had a show tomorrow night, and my voice was already on partial vocal rest on my off days—no more interviews, no singing in the shower, just ginger tea and silence.
When Rachel saw Sawyer's team was playing a few hours from Vegas, it suddenly became a strategic PR opportunity. Her words. Not mine.
Still…I didn't say no.
Maybe it was dumb not to tell him. The whole thing made me feel like a teenager sneaking into her crush's Friday night football game instead of a grown woman with platinum records and a private jet waiting on standby.
But it felt…fun. A little reckless. For some reason, I wanted to be a little reckless with him.
It was easier to let go when he was around.
Would he be weirded out if I showed up without telling him? Was that crossing some invisible line? I wasn't his girlfriend—not technically, not actually.
Fake dating was more complicated than I thought.
And Rachel, being the miracle worker she was, managed to pull last-minute suite tickets for us. I sipped a cocktail that cost more than I cared to think about and sank into the leather seat while the stadium hummed with energy.
What is my life?
I used to sit on the couch next to my parents, watching the news on a secondhand TV that flickered every time the fridge kicked on.
I lived in a two-bedroom house with a roof that leaked when it rained and had a dad who worked nights just to keep the lights on.
And now, I was here, in a luxury suite at an NFL game, wearing Sawyer’s jersey, pretending to date a man who made my heart beat faster than it had any business doing.
“So,” Rachel said, dropping into the seat beside me, “how are we feeling about tonight?”
“Good. We haven’t really been seen together since the article dropped, so this will help keep the narrative going.”
She gave me a flat look. “Nope. That’s the press release answer. I already know that one.”
I groaned and slouched back into the seat. “Fine. I’m excited, okay? Which is stupid, because this is all a ruse, but…I like being around him.”
She smiled like she’d been waiting for me to admit that. “That’s not stupid, El.”
“It’s dangerous,” I murmured, tipping the glass in my hand so the ice clinked against the sides. “Getting too close. Forgetting where the lines are.”
“Does it feel fake?”
On paper, yes. We weren’t dating. This wasn’t forever. It was a strategy, a patch-up job for both our public images. He wasn’t mine. I wasn’t his.
But then, I’d think about how Sawyer didn’t make me feel like I had to shrink to fit the way Harold always did.
“I’ll let you know when I figure that out,” I muttered.
We both turned as the lights shifted, and the crowd cheered.
The players ran out onto the field, and there he was: Sawyer leading the charge, helmet in one hand, that trademark grin stretched across his face. My breath caught before I could stop it. That stupid twist in my chest came again, equally hopeful and terrifying.
“Well,” Rachel said, nudging me with her elbow, “I’ll let you finish eye-fucking your boyfriend. I have to pee. Need anything?”
I smirked. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
She laughed as she stood.
“What?” I asked.
“You didn’t deny he’s your boyfriend.”
“Ugh, shush.”
“Love you,” she sing-songed, strutting away.
I was grateful for the time alone—to watch him without trying to act casual or unaffected, even though Rachel knew the truth more than anyone.
He didn’t see me. Of course, he didn’t. He was one of fifty-something players under the lights, with thousands of fans in every direction.
Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was warming up with the rest of the team, tossing the ball back and forth, running drills, stretching—completely locked in and focused.
I’d seen him flirt, joke, and charm everyone in a ten-foot radius, but this was Sawyer in his element. He had all the confidence he typically carried, but he moved like someone who belonged exactly where he was. Tall, powerful, all sharp lines and fluid motion.
He was bigger than most of the guys around him. Broader. Stronger. There was a kind of grace to the way he moved, as if the game wasn’t something he played—it was something he understood at a cellular level.
And watching him like this?
Yeah. It did something to me.
Ugh, why couldn’t I have decided to have a pretend relationship with someone I would never be interested in?
Rachel came back eventually but sank into her seat, eyes glued to her phone. “Need to catch up on emails real quick.”
Fine by me. I was too far gone in my own world anyway.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, signaling the end of warmups.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, echoing across the stadium as the players gathered on their respective sidelines.
I leaned forward without thinking, my drink completely forgotten.
Rachel glanced over and smiled—just a little smug.
The lights dimmed. The music hit with heavy beats, pulsing bass loud enough that the floor shook under my feet. Spotlights danced across the field as the starting lineup was announced. The whole stadium became one giant, electric performance.
I was used to stages and hearing my name screamed by crowds, but nothing compared to this. This was his stage, and I was in the audience.
And God help me, I didn’t want to look away.
Halfway through the game, the Rebels were on fire. They were up by fourteen, and the momentum was all theirs. I was on my feet cheering, the stadium doing the same alongside me.
Then, suddenly, the big screen lit up right on me. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I was shocked it didn’t happen earlier. My face filled the screen, my name echoing across the stadium speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, platinum-selling, award-winning artist, Ellie Miles!”
The crowd roared like I was center stage at one of my own shows. As if that wasn’t surreal enough, they started playing one of my songs.
My face flushed as Sawyer’s head snapped to the screen. He squinted into the lights, scanning the suite level until he found me. And the smile that spread across his face? Yeah, that would’ve made my knees weak if I weren’t already sitting down.
Rachel giggled and leaned in, cupping a hand over her mouth. “I think he might be a little smitten with you.”
I groaned under my breath, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Must you say that when my face is up there for thousands of people to see?”
“Of course.”
The music faded, and the players moved into position. I didn’t know much about football other than the basics. All I could see was that Sawyer was back on the field, all huge and focused.
He was like a damn boulder that had somehow sprouted legs and said, You know what? Maybe I’ll try the NFL.
They froze for a beat, and the stadium was weirdly quiet. Then, the ball snapped. Everything exploded into motion.
I had no clue what was happening.
There was yelling. Crashing. Bodies slamming into each other like a choreographed demolition derby. Then, someone dropped the ball. I was pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to happen.
One of the announcers bellowed over the loudspeakers. “Ball’s live! Ball’s on the ground!”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Players scrambled. People shouted. My heart launched into my throat.
And then, Sawyer grabbed the ball. Just…picked up the ball and ran.
Wait. He was running.
With the ball?
The announcer’s voice cracked with disbelief. “And it’s—number seventy-one, Sawyer James? The left tackle has the ball! It’s a live ball, and he’s running with it!”
I was on my feet before I realized it.
“Go, go, go!” I yelled, as if he could actually hear me over thousands of people screaming.
He bulldozed through one guy and twisted past another. It wasn’t graceful. It was wild, messy, and borderline impossible, but he kept going.
Twenty yards. Ten.
And—he was in the end zone.
Touchdown.
The entire stadium erupted. Fans were jumping, spilling drinks, and losing their collective minds. Teammates tackled him in celebration.
And me?
I was frozen.
Sawyer pulled off his helmet, chest heaving, sweat-slicked and grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. He did a silly little dance, and then he looked up right at me.
He blew me a kiss once again, as if we were the only two people in the entire stadium. Heat erupted over my entire face, down my neck, and Rachel clutched my arm.
“I swear, if you don’t marry that man...”
I couldn’t respond. Because even if part of me wanted to believe we could be real, I wasn’t sure it ever would ever be possible.