Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (5 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

AVA

“You did
what?
” Darcey asks, staring at me like I’ve just confessed to being the Zodiac Killer. “Do you even know how many girls would
kill
to hang around Riley Knox all day?”

“Do you even know how little I care?” I ask, angrily yanking my hair back into a ponytail. “Those other girls are welcome to him, with my compliments. Here’s a total ass.”

My voice shakes a little as I say it.

I’m not a great liar.

Okay, I’m not lying about Riley being an ass — that part is totally true.

But I
am
lying about not caring, or that being the reason I don’t want to continue with this stupid charade of Murray’s.

The
real
reason is that if I have to spend one more minute than necessary around Riley Knox, I know I won’t be able to keep from tearing his clothes off with my teeth.

And that would throw a
serious
monkey wrench in the works.

It’s supposed to be fake dating,
fake
being the operative word. My dad would hit the roof if I ever
really
brought a guy like Riley home. Not to mention the rest of my family. Like my grandma, who still haughtily refers to families like the Rockefellers and the Kennedys as ‘new money’.

It’s totally out of the question.

I know I was being a total bitch to Riley today at the cafe, but it seemed like the best way to throw him off the scent. I might be a virgin, but I could see the way he was looking at me. Between that and all the not-so-subtle little jabs about wanting to see me with my clothes off, I was lucky to get out of there without dragging him back here like a cavewoman and having hot, sweaty, beast-with-two-backs-type sex with him in the middle of the lounge room floor.

I shiver a little. One of the messages I saw on the various groupies central messageboards dedicated to Riley and his apparently enormous cock jumps into my head.

hoooooolllllyyyy shiiiiiiiit
i won’t be walking for the next few days. Best fuck i’ve ever had.

I’ve honestly never had much of a libido. That’s how I’ve got to twenty-two without losing my virginity. I’m pretty sure I could find some guy in a club and get laid if I really wanted to, but I’ve just never had the urge, literally.

The way I felt when I was around Riley was… totally unprecedented. And I had no idea how to deal with it.

Being a bitch seemed like the simplest way out.

And it’s not like I had to put on much of an act, anyway. I was serious when I told Darcey what an ass he was.

“
Total
ass,” I say again, for emphasis. Though whether it’s to convince Darcey or myself I’m not sure.

“What’s your father going to say?” Darcey asks, leaning forward and resting her chin on her palm.

I lick my lips. That part I hadn’t really thought through yet. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But it was never going to work, anyway. It was a dumb idea. Fake dating is for pop stars who want to get their names in the gossip column. I can’t do it.”

“So what’d you tell him?”

“I texted Murray and explained I didn’t think it was going to work out.” I’d done that almost as soon as I’d hurried off away from the cafe. Before I’d had a chance to re-think my position. “He hasn’t got back to me yet, though.”

Just as I say that, I hear my phone vibrate in my purse, and groan. Pulling it out, it’s just as I suspected: Murray.

“Guess who,” I mutter to Darcey, standing and lifting my phone to my ear. “Hi Murray, what’s u—”

“I received your text,” he informs me, all business. “Can you explain what it means?”

I suppress the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. “What’s to explain?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light and breezy. “It’s like I said, I just don’t think this idea of yours is going to work out. I tried, but —”

“It’s a bit late for second thoughts, Ava. I’ve already given a story to the
Daily
about the date you and Riley went on this afternoon. And you’ll be taking a walk with him in St Christopher’s Park across from campus tomorrow afternoon. It’s already all arranged.”

What?

“What?” I ask, horror slicing through me. “Murray, what are you talking about?”

“I already arranged all this,” he says, as if he’s talking to a slow child. “William Jackson and I have organized everything. So I’m afraid it’s a little too late to back out now.”

“Does Riley know about this? Because I have a feeling he’s going to want to—”

“Coach Jackson is telling him right now, as far as I know,” Murray says. “Is there a problem?”

“I kind of… already told him I wasn’t going to do it anymore,” I say, biting my lip. “And I don’t think he’s going to want to see me again.”

Murray’s silence on the other end of the phone could cut glass.

From the other side of the couch, Darcey raises her eyebrows at me and mouths
what’s going on?
I wave a hand at her, irritated.

“Murray?”

“Can you tell me exactly what you said?” he asks.

“Nothing much. And I really do think it’s not a good idea.”

There’s another long pause.

“I don’t think I need to tell you,” Murray says slowly, “how beneficial this would be for your father.”

Oof,
I think.
Right in the emotional blackmail.

“I know,” I tell him. “But there has to be another way, right?”

“This one is already arranged. And I don’t think I need to explain how awkward it would be for me to have to make a phone call now, telling the papers it’s off. You know what journalists are like, Ava. If they smell blood, they won’t stop sniffing around until they’ve found the source.”

I roll my eyes, but I know it’s true. I went to prep school with more than a few children of celebrities. My own fame might be tiny compared with most people’s, but it still doesn’t change the fact we’re a prominent family, and digging up dirt on the rich and famous is what a lot of these people live for.

I don’t want to admit it, but Murray’s right about this.

“What about Riley, though? Will Coach Jackson be able to talk him into doing it? I wasn’t exactly friendly to him this afternoon.”

“Whatever you said or did, let’s put that to one side,” Murray says. “Riley will be there. I’ll sort it out.”

Then he hangs up. No goodbye, no ‘Thanks for prostituting yourself for your father’s career, Ava,’ no nothing. I have to wonder if he’s anyone to be lecturing my dad about seeming cold and robotic.

“What was that about?” Darcey asks as I stare down at my now silent phone.

“Murray says I
have
to see Riley again,” I tell her, feeling irritation well up in my chest. “He’s already arranged like… some photoshoot or something. Ugh.”

I suppress the urge to throw my phone across the room. I have no idea what this photoshoot is going to involve, but I already know I’m not going to like it.

When I look up, Darcey is staring at me with narrowed eyes.

“What?” I ask irritably.

“You
like
him,” she says, her tone smug. As if she’s just figured something out.

Which, I guess, she has. I can feel my face turning red. I try to laugh, but it comes out weak.

“You could not be more wrong,” I say. “He’s gross. And you know I hate sports.”

“Right, that’s why your face looks like a tomato right now,” Darcey replies. “You do! You fucking like him.”

“Darcey, I swear to God you’re annoying,” I moan, burying my face in one of the couch cushions. “I do
not
like him. If I like him, why the hell would I just have tried my best to get out of seeing him?”

Darcey lets out a knowing laugh. “Because I know you, Ava — and I remember this boy back in prep school, what was his name? Oh, yeah, Matthew Rottenbach. Anyway, you had the
hugest
crush on him. But no one could ever get you to admit it. You’d always just turn beet red whenever anyone mentioned his name, and loudly announced how much you despised him. That was like, seven years ago, and you still haven’t changed! It’s fucking hilarious.”

I stare at her in horror.

Because she’s right, fuck damn it.

I held a tiny teenaged candle for Matthew Rottenbach for
years
.
I’d have rather died than admit it at the time, though.

But apparently Darcey is right, and I haven’t changed.

“You are so full of shit, Darcey!” I squeal. “I have no feelings one way or the other toward Riley Knox, except to say that he’s an arrogant, obnoxious douchebag. And if I even did — which I
don’t
— we’re not allowed to date anyway. My dad would hit the roof.”

“I’m not saying you want to date him,” Darcey tells me. “I’m saying you want to
fuck
him.”

I stare at her, opening and closing my mouth for what seems like forever. I’m completely aware I look like a fish, but I can’t seem to find the words I want. Meanwhile, Darcey’s face gets smugger and smugger by the second.

“What the hell would you know about it,” I finally burst out. “You want to fuck Justin Trudeau.”

“Justin Trudeau is perfectly fuckable,” she loftily informs me. “I have fantastic taste in men. That’s why I’m telling you you should go for it.”

“What?” I ask incredulously. “Did you just miss the whole part where I told you my dad would hit the roof? It’d be bad enough if we were dating, I honestly don’t think things would be better if we were just….” I trail off. God, I can’t even bring myself to say the words:
if we were just fucking.
I’m blushing just thinking about it, and remembering the way his eyes ran up and down my body during our meeting this afternoon. Like he was thinking of seven different ways to make me come right there and then.

I mean, I already know he’s good in bed. There’s all those messageboard notes to attest to that. And they were left by what I imagine are women who’ve banged a lot of guys, and know what they’re talking about. Connoisseurs of cock, who know a good one when they see it.   

“If you were just in a hot, sweaty, no-strings-attached fucking arrangement?” Darcey helpfully supplies when I don’t finish my sentence. “Look, you’re what, twenty-two now? Why does your dad even have to know about this?”

“Because he’s the one who set this up, Darcey,” I groan, flopping back on the couch. “Why do I have to explain this, anyway? It’s not going to happen. But if I wanted to get into… that kind of arrangement with someone, it wouldn’t be Riley. I already told you he’s a douche, and he’s not my type.”

“Riley Knox is everybody’s type,” Darcey says, as if she’s stating an obvious fact. “And if that’s the case, why don’t you do it? I’m going out tonight — you can come with, we’ll fix you up. We can find you Riley Knox’s exact opposite — some waify, pale, singer-songwriter with arms like sticks who wants to discourse about his
Weltschmerz
. That should make you happy.”

I sigh. “I’m not going to fuck some guy just for the sake of losing my virginity, Darcey.
And
I’m not going out tonight. I already lost enough study time today. And I’ll lose more tomorrow. I’m staying in.”

Darcey just shrugs. “Your loss,” she says. “I’m just trying to help you. But don’t come crying to me when I come home with some bangin’ hot guy and you get nothing.”

“Fine,” I say, standing and marching down the hall to my room. “Just try to keep your orgasm noises to a minimum, I’ll be trying to study.”

A yawn cracks my face open as I walk across campus after my early class. I ended up staying up late doing my reading for one of my core subjects (vector calculus — never my strongest area), and now I’m feeling like ten tons of microwaved shit.

It’s not just the late night and the early classes — it’s the fact I know I’m going to have to face Riley again today, and that whatever gossip photographers Murray has organized are going to be trailing us around, looking for a scoop.

I shudder.

I know I should’ve found a way to refuse, but Murray knows I have a hard time turning stuff down when it comes to my dad. He’s knows I’ll do anything to help him. Including this, apparently.

I can’t imagine Riley’s too keen to see me again after the bitchy way I spoke to him at our last meeting, either. Half of me hopes he’s a no-show. The other half… well, the other half is practically vibrating out of my skin in anticipation.

And lust
, my brain unhelpfully reminds me.

Well, not exactly my brain. More like my ovaries. They’re
very
keen on me seeing Riley again.