Real Players Never Lose by Micalea Smeltzer
Teddy
I pullup outside a truck stop around thirty minutes from Aldridge, since Vanessa suggested it would probably be smart for us to meet somewhere no one from school is likely to be, that way we can go over all the details people usually know about each other when they’ve been dating for a couple of months.
My car is going to stick out like a sore thumb here, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
I park the Porsche, shutting off the engine. A text from Vanessa says she’s already inside.
I don’t know what I was thinking, but when I heard about her predicament I wanted to help. For once I could do something decent with my family’s money. Besides, I did need to track down a fake-girlfriend, and she seemed like the perfect candidate. I’m not sure why my instinct seemed to know I could trust her for this job, because I’ve never even seen the girl on campus before. But my gut is usually right about people.
I slip my sunglasses off and stick them in the cupholder.
Breezing into the truck stop, my stomach rumbles at the smell of the greasy food. Looking toward the booths, a hand raises and waves me over.
I grin as I walk over to Vanessa, lowering to kiss her cheek before I slide in across from her. She stiffens a little at the touch of my lips and I feel like a dick.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I’ve always been an affectionate person, and sometimes I forget that others aren’t so keen on physical touch.
“It’s okay.” She tucks a wavy piece of dark brown hair behind her ear. “I need to get used to it.”
Vanessa is beautiful, and I’m honestly questioning how I never noticed her before. Surely, we’ve had to cross paths at some point? In the dining hall? Coffee shop? A party? I guess campus is large enough that we might’ve missed each other, but—
“Are you hungry?” she asks me, jolting me from my thoughts.
“Starved.”
She passes me a plastic menu that’s sticky to the touch. Hopefully from disinfectant and not greasy fingers, but let’s be honest it’s definitely the latter.
She studies her own menu, her nose scrunched in an adorable way.
Adorable? Really, Teddy? You can’t already be thinking your fake-girlfriend is adorable.
But obviously, this only makes sense if I am attracted to Vanessa. And I’d totally fuck her.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t checked her out the moment I walked into the office and stood behind her. She’s thick and curvy, with a nice ass, glossy hair, and soft voice that I could listen to all day. Then when she turned around, I got a good look at her face, and I was even more attracted than I was before. Blue eyes, Angelina Jolie-esque pouty lips, and big boobs.
I’m a simple man, give me some tits to look at and an ass to hold and I’m happy.
But, of course, women are off limits.
Unless they’re of the girlfriend variety.
Well, the fake kind.
“Have you eaten here before?” I tap my fingers against the table. I’ve always had more energy than I knew what to do with.
“I used to work here.”
“Oh?” I arch a brow, laying the menu flat on the table. “Where do you work now?”
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “The Burger Palace. I’m a waitress. I’m sure it’s a far cry from the world you know.”
There’s an edge to her voice and I know what preconceived notions she probably has about someone like me.
I bite my tongue, so I don’t say a word. She’s not wrong. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, but what people forget is that silver can poison you.
Changing the subject, I say, “What would you recommend here?”
“Stay away from anything pasta. The steaks are okay, but if Julio still works here they’re more likely to come out burned than anything else. The sandwiches are where it’s at.”
I turn to that part of the menu, finding names like Dolly Parton’s Boobs and Billy Ray’s Mullet.
“Hi, y’all. I’m Sheila. I’ll be your waitress this afternoon. What can I get y’all to drink?”
“Lemonade.” Vanessa smiles at her. “And I’m ready to order if he is.”
“I’m ready.”
“Okay.” She smiles at me. It’s an uneasy smile, one that I know stems from the fact that we don’t know each other well yet, but we’re going to have to work on it because if my dad sees her smile like that, he’ll know something’s up. “I’ll have the Before He Cheats on wheat with fries.”
“And for you?” The middle-aged waitress turns to me, pen poised against her pad of paper.
“Coke and the Luke Bryan’s Jeans also with fries, please.”
“I’ll get this in and be right back with your drinks.”
When the waitress is gone, Vanessa lets out a breath like she’s been unconsciously holding it. She gives me an awkward smile, her eyes darting quickly from mine to different spots around the room and back again.
I’m amused and more than a little surprised. She was such a spitfire, but all that bravado is gone for now. I have a feeling it’ll be back before I know it, and I’m more than looking forward to it. Our verbal sparring is a foreplay of a different type.
After our drinks are dropped off, I decide to get down to business.
I yank out the rumpled piece of paper from my pocket that I’ve been adding questions to over the past few days along with a pen I brought just for this occasion, because fuck if I ever normally have a pen on me.
“Favorite color?”
“Huh?” She looks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Favorite color?” I repeat. “As your interim fake-boyfriend I should know things about you and vice versa. That’s why we’re here.”
“Right.” She plays with the ends of her hair, and I make a mental note of that because it must be something she does when she’s nervous. She meets my eyes, nose crinkling again. Nose crinkle, I scribble. “Um … green.” She cringes and I have no idea why. “And yours?”
“Orange.”
“Orange?” she exclaims. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with the favorite color orange.”
If I’m being honest, orange only became my favorite color when I was fourteen and overheard my father say it was the most appalling color known to man.
“Now you’ve met one. Favorite show?”
“GilmoreGirls—are you seriously taking notes?” She eyes the paper on the table between us, marred with my chicken scratch.
“I mean, with my genius level IQ I’ll more than likely remember everything you say, but better safe than sorry in case I need to study up. There’s no telling what my father might ask either of us.”
Her eyes widen. “Is he really a jerk?”
“Worse.” I squint at my smudged writing. “Where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”
She blinks at me. “Pass. A lady never tells.”
“Pssh,” I scribble down will find out later beside that answer. “Mine is a church confessional. I’m not even Catholic but I did almost see God that day.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I kid about that?”
She rubs at her forehead, puffing out a breath. No doubt she’s questioning what she’s gotten herself into with me. Frankly, I feel bad for dragging her into my mess. Vanessa seems kind, even a little shy. She’s someone my dad will have far too much fun toying with, but I’ll do everything I can to protect her, especially since she’s doing me such a solid. I know she thinks it’s nothing compared to me paying for her final semester, but having her help is priceless.
“Next question,” I mutter, silently cursing my awful handwriting. It’s surprising I wasn’t forced to learn how to write neater. “Favorite food?”
“Cheeseburger.”
I grin. “My kind of girl. That’s my favorite.”
“Can I ask you a question?” She bites her lip hesitantly, eyeing the table.
“Sure. I’m an open book. Nothing’s off limits.”
She rolls her eyes, drawing random designs on the tabletop with her index finger. “Why me?”
She basically asked me the same thing the other day, and the truth is I don’t know. She wasn’t wrong when she said any girl would’ve been happy to volunteer, but when I heard her predicament it seemed like maybe we’d been placed in each other’s paths. But I don’t want to say that, or she might think I’m insane and I’m pretty sure she already thinks I’m halfway to crazy.
“Because.” Come on, Teddy, you can do better than that.
“Because why?”
Her blue eyes are large and round, waiting eagerly for my answer, for some sort of explanation.
I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. My gut told me I could trust you, and my gut is almost always right.”
“Huh.”
“Here are your sandwiches.” The waitress interrupts us to put our plates on the table.
Vanessa wasn’t lying. The sandwiches look fucking fantastic, better than what I expected that’s for sure. My stomach rumbles again, reminding me that the one skittle I found in my cupholder and ate earlier wasn’t exactly the sustenance I need.
Neither of us say anything for a few minutes, eating in silence. I guess I’m not the only one that’s hungry.
Once the monster in my stomach is sort of happy, I get back to my list of questions.
“Where were you born?”
“A little town called White Claw, Georgia. Go ahead, laugh at the name. It’s where my family still lives.”
My lips twitch but something tells me she’ll want to throw something at me if I give into the full-blown laughter I’d like to have.
“Siblings?”
“One older sister who I’m pretty sure is the spawn of the Devil. That’s it, thank God. What about you?”
“Born in Nashville and attended a boarding school in upstate New York. No siblings. Just me. They got their male heir on the first try and didn’t bother with a spare.”
She blinks at me, probably trying to decide whether or not I’m serious, which I am.
Picking up a fry, she swirls it in ketchup and uses it to point at my list before she pops it in her mouth. “What else you got on there?”
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“Nope. You?”
“Um…” I press my lips together. “Yes. But you don’t need the details.”
“Murder?”
“No.”
“Rape?” She narrows her eyes.
“God no!” I rear back, offended. “Never.”
“Just tell me, then. Otherwise, I’m going to keep imagining terrible scenarios.”
I clear my throat, looking away. “Grand larceny.”
“Grand larceny?” She spits out a bite of food in surprise.
“It was an accident.”
She blinks. Blinks again. Mouth agape.
“How does one accidentally commit grand larceny?”
“By being shit-faced drunk and thinking you’re throwing a party on your parents’ yacht, only to crash said yacht, then realize it is in fact not your family’s.”
“Your family owns a freaking yacht?”
“And a private jet. More cars than anyone possibly needs. As well as estates all over the world.”
“You say that like it disgusts you.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed the fringe benefits, but things don’t make up for the lack of a real family.”
“Oh.” She plays with hair again. I notice chipped red polish on the ends of her nails. “That’s really kind of…”
“Pathetic for me to complain about? I know. I’m lucky that I’ve never had to worry about money.”
“Actually,” she frowns, my eyes zeroing in on her full pillowy lips, “I was going to say it’s sad.”
I pick up a fry, tearing it into three separate pieces. “Poor little rich boy, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Now you’re just fishing for sympathy. Economic status doesn’t guarantee happiness. Horrible people just exist.”
“Aka, money doesn’t buy happiness?”
Her lips twitch into a real smile and I count that as a total victory. “Let’s move on to other questions.”
“Good idea.” I clear my throat. “Are you on birth control?”
She chokes on a bite of food. That question isn’t actually on my list, I’m just an ass and wanted to see her reaction.
“How is that any of your business?”
“If we decide to fornicate, obviously.”
She snorts, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “You did not just use the word fornicate.”
“What would you prefer? Knocking boots? Bumpin’ uglies? A bit of the old in and out? The no-pants dance? Or, my personal favorite,” I grin triumphantly as her face reddens, “slime the banana.”
“You … you…” She flounders at a loss for words.
“Are very fuckable, I know.”
“No, no!” She wags a finger at me. “That was not what I was going to say. And there will be no sex happening between us,” she swings that same finger back and forth from her to me, “because this relationship is entirely fake, need I remind you.”
I rub my jaw. “Can you seriously look at this face and not want to fuck me?”
Her eyes threaten to bug out of her head. “I’m leaving.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin and reaches for her wallet. “Thanks for paying my tuition, and I owe you one, but this isn’t it.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I chant, placing my hand over hers. She gives me a death glare and I quickly pull my hand back. “I was kidding, I’m sorry. I have a weird sense of humor. I’d tell you I’ll work on it, but there’s no changing me at this point. Please, Van, I need you.”
I slap my hands together in a prayer position, holding them beneath my chin. My lower lip pouts out.
She stares at me, perhaps weighing my sincerity, before she sighs and puts her wallet back in her bag. “Fine, but no joking about having sex with me. It makes me feel like a prostitute.” She shudders. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, if that’s what you want to do, you do you girl, but that ain’t me.”
I try not to grin. I don’t think Vanessa is aware of how amusing and unassumingly funny she is.
“I’ll do my best. Unfortunately, many of my jokes are sexual in nature. Take it with a grain of salt.” She looks like she’s ready to reach across the table and slap me, so I decide to quickly change the subject. “Next question, when’s your birthday? As your boyfriend, I should know your birthday.”
“Fake,” she reminds me unnecessarily, “and it’s June twenty-fourth. I’m a Cancer, since I figure that question is probably on your list too.”
“March third,” I answer for myself, “and Pisces.” Pursing my lips, I look over my questions. “What’s your favorite cookie?”
“How is that important?”
“Because I like to bake cookies, naturally I’d know your favorite by now.”
“Oh.” She plays with a strand of her hair, wrapping it around her index finger. “Snickerdoodle.”
“Same.” I grin. “Look at us, we have so much in common.”
“Mhmm,” she hums doubtfully.
“What about hobbies?”
She frowns, a fry hovering halfway to her mouth. “Between school and work I don’t really have time for hobbies. I used to garden with my mom.”
“Interesting.” I make a note on my paper. “Mine is baseball and obviously baking.”
“You weren’t kidding about the cookies, were you?”
I scoff. “I would never kid about baked goods.”
She pulls her hair over one shoulder. “This fake relationship … exactly how far are we taking this? Like am I just supposed to pretend in front of your parents or?” She waits for me to elaborate.
“We need to keep up the charade with my friends and on campus. I’ll tell them that we started going out before break and decided to make it official.”
“So … the whole campus is going to think I’m dating you?”
“Is that a problem?” I scratch my head.
“It’s just you’re popular and I’m not.”
“So?”
“Teddy,” she scoffs. “We come from completely different worlds. Both on and off campus.”
“Again, so? I know you don’t know me well, yet, but you will, and I don’t give a shit what other people think of me or who I’m with, even if it’s not real. People are always going to talk. But that doesn’t mean you have to listen.”
Her lips thin. “You have a good point.”
I tap my forehead. “It’s not entirely air up here.” Consulting my list again, I ask, “What are you studying?”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh. “You’re taking this really serious, aren’t you? And it’s communications.”
“I have to, there’s no telling what my dad will ask about you. I need to be prepared. What do you plan to do with a communications degree?”
“I’d like to get into public relations in some way.” Leaning over the table, she whisper-hisses, “Why do I feel like you’re interrogating me for a job position, not getting to know me?”
“Sorry.” I give her a sheepish smile, feeling my ears turn red. “I don’t really know exactly how else to do this and I’ve never even had a real girlfriend—”
“Hold up.” She literally raises a hand, silencing me. “You’ve never had a girlfriend?”
I snort. “No. I went to an all-boys school growing up and don’t get me wrong, we all found ways to meet up with girls, but I didn’t date. After I came here I…” I flounder, trying to find the right words but not wanting to stick my foot in my mouth in front of her.
“Whored around?” she supplies, arching a fluffy dark brow.
I snap my fingers. “Exactly. Though,” I put a hand to my chest, “I’ve been on my best behavior this year. Mostly because of Father Dearest, but—”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an over sharer?”
“Once or twice?” I grin and her blue eyes light up with amusement.
She shakes her head, pushing her plate to the side. “What’s your major then?”
“Business. The plan was always to take over my family business, but…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I’d rather go out on my own. A lone wolf you might say.” Then, because I’m me and can’t help myself, I let out a howl.
“Teddy,” she hisses, trying to climb her way across the table to slap a hand over my mouth.
I stop howling, instead laughing. “You should see your face, Van.”
Red-faced, she looks around at the truckers staring at us. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
She covers her face with her hands. “You love embarrassing me, don’t you?”
“I do that with everyone.” I give a shrug, stealing a fry from her plate since I ate all of mine.
“How are you still hungry?” she scoffs.
“I’m a growing boy.”
She shakes her head, flabbergasted. “You’re something else.”
“Anyway, tomorrow I think we should make our relationship campus official.”
“Campus official?” She raises a brow. “What does that mean?”
Her voice has gone high and squeaky. I don’t think she’s even noticed the octave change. I knew when I proposed this whole idea to her that she wasn’t the kind of girl who coveted popularity. I don’t know how exactly I knew; I just did. Maybe it’s because while she checked me out in the office, and obviously recognized me, she didn’t give me flirty eyes or try to get me to notice her or even slip me her number like so many girls do.
I was instantly intrigued, especially since I needed to find someone to fit my girlfriend role.
“We’ll go to Harvey’s tomorrow night with my friends. I’ll introduce you. We’ll hang out.” I shrug, and then add the part I know she won’t like. “Obviously we’ll have to hold hands and kiss.”
“What?” She blanches. “No. No way.” She swings her hands back and forth. “I’m not doing that.”
I arch a brow. “Ah, but you’ve already agreed to it. I mean, being my fake-girlfriend implies that there will be hand holding and kissing, maybe the occasional boob grab or ass smack.”
Her lips part and she knows I’m not wrong.
“Right.” She nods along. “But no boob or butt touching.” Biting her lip, she says hesitantly, “I’ve never been to Harvey’s. What should I wear?”
She’s joking, right? She’s been at Aldridge since freshman year and never been to Harvey’s? Blasphemy!
“How have you never been to Harvey’s? I-It’s like a rite of passage!”
She tugs on her hair. “Because I’ve been busy studying, working, and frankly just getting by. I know that someone like you probably can’t relate to that, but—”
“Listen, I understand having to work and I study too, mind you, it’s not like grades are handed to me. I am smart.” My tone is a bit brash, but it’s a sore subject for me. I know I’m a jokester and I don’t take life too seriously, but I hate when people assume that automatically means I’m dumb.
“Oh.” She pales. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry if it came across that way.”
I wiggle my fingers, erasing her concern. “Sorry, it’s a sore subject. Anyway, my point is surely you’ve still had time to go out.”
She winces. “I’m just not that person, Teddy. I’d rather stay in than go out.”
I feel like there’s more to it, something she’s not telling me, but I don’t push it.
Plowing on, I say, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight. Harvey’s is casual. If you have cowboy boots, even better, but it’s not required.” I wink, trying to lighten the mood. “And remember,” my voice drops to a serious tone, “you have to pretend to like me.”