I had to fight to keep my lip from curling at how he made all of that sound like a good quality.
“But when she sees me with someone else, when she thinks I’ve moved on?” He shook his head with a devilish smile. “That green monster will get her. She’ll be begging to get me back.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know, Clay… I don’t want to play those kinds of games.”
“Trust me — everyone plays them. So, if you’re not playing — no, if you’re not winning?” He shrugged. “You’re losing.”
His words made something in my gut tighten, my eyes skirting to where Shawn strummed his guitar on stage. My heart did a backflip just like it always did when his gaze washed over me, even though it was so quick I barely registered the color of his golden eyes before they were gone again.
I was invisible to him. I always had been.
I would never admit out loud how many times I’d fantasized about him, particularly when I’d re-read Thoughtless. Every time he played at this bar and glanced my way, I wondered if it would be the night he’d end his set and walk right over to my table, demanding to know me, demanding to take me home. When would he suddenly realize the wallflower girl who watched every set, who knew every word to his original songs, who sat quietly in the corner while every other girl threw themselves at him?
The fantasies always got a little spicy after that.
Still, even when he did look at me, my instant reaction was to look away, to hide, to sink into the crowd and become invisible once more. Attention like that made me uncomfortable, made me self-conscious, made me wonder if I had something in my teeth rather than if I was desirable. I wasn’t the kind of girl who could hold his stare once I had it, who could smirk and lift a brow or lick my lips or draw a seductive circle on the rim of my coffee.
I didn’t have main character energy.
I was more of the quirky, cute best friend with all the sage advice.
I sighed, heart longing for something that seemed so out of reach. When Shawn glanced at me again, I hid my face just like always, cheeks burning, and then I peeked up at Clay, who just cocked a brow like he’d caught me red-handed.
Or in this case, red-faced.
All my life, I’d been too scared to go for what I wanted — I was the exact opposite of Maliyah, of Clay, of everyone I worked with on the team. I wasn’t like my siblings, destined for greatness and like a magnet to anyone in my vicinity. I wasn’t like my boss, who commanded attention in every room she graced.
I was the side kick, and I had always been content to be in the background.
But now, for the first time, I found myself yearning for the spotlight.
And for a freaking boyfriend, for science’s sake.
Uncrossing my legs, I leaned forward, folding my hands together on the table. “We need terms. Conditions. Rules.”
When a smooth tilt of Clay’s lips was his only response, I wondered just how much trouble I was getting myself into.
I held up a finger. “The first one being that regardless of what you help me with Shawn-wise, you do whatever I need you to do for the media. I’ll leave you alone for the next couple weeks like I promised, but come Chart Day, you play the perfect college athlete and make me look good.”
“Sounds like a lopsided deal now.”
“Is it really, if you can get Maliyah back?”
He tilted his head at my challenge, sitting back in his chair and crossing his ankle over the opposite knee. He had to back all the way up from under the table to do so. “Touché. What else?”
I sat back, tapping a finger against my chin as I tried to recall all the fake-dating tropes I’d read. The truth was I read about a book a day, so they all blurred together after a while. But one thing I knew about pretending to date someone was that you absolutely needed rules, or things got messy.
“No PDA,” I finally said.
Clay made a buzzer sound, the noise so loud a few students at the tables around us looked over their shoulders. “Impossible. No one who’s actually dating avoids PDA.”
“Fine.” I made a face. “Then we need a safe word.”
“A safe word?” Clay chuckled. “Do you think I’m going to be tying you up, Kitten?”
Something wicked gleamed in his eyes, like he’d just thought about what that would entail, and once again, he leaned his large frame over the tiny table.
“I mean, that can be arranged,” he added with a smirk. “If you’d like.”
The way my lips parted at the invitation, how my heart skipped a beat before galloping a little quicker than before, was not okay. Fortunately, I covered it pretty well as I rolled my eyes.