Page 154 of Bluffed By the Offense

“Marcus had a PR nightmare on his hands after the last season when he didn’t shake hands after the playoff loss. For the first time since then, people were focused on something other than his seemingly unsportsmanlike conduct. They were far more interested in us—as a couple.”

“But you weren’t a couple?” Syd asks. Her face contorts in confusion.

“Right. We just didn’t fight the rumors when they spread.”

My friends listen. I tell them how the snowball rolled downhill. I explain why I couldn’t tell them—then how Marcus asked for an extension so we didn’t steal the limelight from Winona and Declan during their wedding.

“So, you never actually dated?” Hallie asks.

They seem more curious than upset.

“Officially, no,” I admit.

“But you do like him?” Syd asks. She’s smiling.

“I really like him,” I say. “A lot. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“We understand,” Syd says.

“We’re going on our first real date tonight,” I tell them.

“So, he feels something for you too?” Hallie asks.

“He said he wants to see where things can go. He likes us.”

“Ooooh,” Emberleigh says. “That’s hopeful.”

“We’ll see,” I say.

Wanting to date someone and see how things go doesn’t mean he feels the kind of feelings I have for him. We’re just going on a date. He might have gotten used to me. He could like the way I love football. I’m a convenient girlfriend now that I’m not so antagonistic.

“The good news is I don't hate him anymore,” I say with a laugh. “So, yay.”

“I never thought you’d keep hating him,” Syd says. “I mean, we’ve read our share of enemies-to-lovers stories in book club.”

“I’m such a cliché!” I shout.

My friends crack up.

I consider telling them everything. I told Winona when she called me on her second day in St. Thomas. She knows I’m in love. She’s prematurely excited for me.

I can’t bring myself to admit my feelings for Marcus to anyone else. Not yet. Maybe I’ll tell my friends later, or maybe it’s just enough for Winona to know.

My friends help clean up from the shower, each one of them assuring me that they’re not mad about me hiding the truth from them. I’m so grateful to have the air cleared.

I spend the afternoon getting ready for my date.

Marcus arrives at six, wearing a coat over a button-up shirt, jeans and boots.

“You ready?” he asks.

I grab my coat and slip into it. “I am.”

My nerves could be measured on a Richter scale. I don’t know why I’m nervous. We’ve already been on dozens of dates. We’ve danced, kissed, and even spent quiet evenings together. I’ve fallen asleep on his couch and woken up to breakfast with him and Trey. But all that doesn’t help—not when his grey-blue eyes meet mine and that devastating smile spreads across his face.

This is real.

We’re not pretending anymore.