And there he was, Shawn Stetson, broody and mysterious and dark and handsome.
“Look, G,” Clay said.
“Giana,” I corrected.
“Would you rather I call you Kitten again?”
My eyes were mere slits as he smirked at his own cute joke.
“I’m a guy, and as a guy, I know what guys want. At least — most, straight, sane guys. And I’m telling you. That guy?” He pointed a finger at where Shawn was playing his set on stage, the bar dim in comparison to where a soft spotlight illuminated him. “He wants a woman of mystery, one who can be his muse, who will be a little hard to get, a little out of his league.”
My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull before I covered Clay’s gargantuan finger with both my hands and shoved it down, quickly glancing at Shawn to make sure he hadn’t seen.
“I can have him eating out of the palm of your hand by Thanksgiving.”
My cheeks were so hot, I was worried they’d singe my hair as it fell over my face. “What makes you think I’d want that?”
Clay just cocked a brow.
Okay, so I’m about as easy to read as a billboard right now.
I chewed the inside of my lip, glancing at Shawn and then back at Clay before I lowered my voice to a whisper. “He barely knows I exist.”
“Another thing I can help with,” he said, sweeping a large hand over himself. “Do you think anyone on this campus could ignore the girl who has Clay Johnson’s attention?”
I rolled my eyes at the cocky insinuation, but couldn’t argue against his point.
It was true.
That massive hunk of muscle and those piercing green eyes had been off the market since Clay walked onto North Boston University’s campus — much to every girl’s dismay. And while he’d been a miserable prick since he and Maliyah broke up, the groupies that followed the team around like flies were begging for even a taste of his affection.
Still…
“He’s a musician,” I pointed out, folding my arms. “He probably couldn’t care less about football.”
And the universe loved to play jokes on me, because at that exact moment, Shawn finished the song he’d been playing, and after strumming his guitar a few times, he spoke right into the mic and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity here with us tonight. Clay Johnson, NBU’s best safety and a shoe-in for the NFL. Make sure to get your autographs while you can.”
Clay held up a hand in a humble wave as every pair of eyes shot toward us. I ducked and tried to hide my face as Clay ate every second up, throwing a seductive smirk and a wink at a particular table of girls. They quietly whispered to one another with their eyes sweeping over Clay, their smiles eager, all nudging one another like they were picking straws over who would try to talk to him first. I rolled my eyes when one of them not-so-subtly took a video of him on her phone.
“Any requests, man?” Shawn asked next, and the fact that he was talking to Clay and Clay was at my table was about as close as I’d ever been to being in the same universe as my crush.
Clay eyed me with that damn smirk still securely in place. “How about ‘Just Say Yes’ by Snow Patrol?”
I rolled my eyes again, and as Shawn began to play, Clay leaned in even closer.
“Are you out of arguments yet?”
I sighed. “So, let me get this straight. We would be in a fake relationship, in which you, hypothetically, would help me get Shawn, and I…” I blinked, coming up blank. “Would do what, exactly? I mean… what’s in this for you?”
A shadow of something washed over his face then, and he sat back, shrugging a bit before he drank half his beer in one gulp. “Maliyah.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I know my girl,” he said, his eyes more determined than I’d ever seen — and that was saying something, because I’d seen this guy power down the field for an impossible interception more than a few times. “I know that she still loves me, still wants me, but she thinks there’s something better out there. She’s always wanted the best.” He paused. “She’s been brought up with that desire. It’s just part of who she is.”
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.”