A shy high school senior jock and a closed-off girl battling an immune disorder fake a relationship to win a social media contest.
Being shy isn't easy, especially when you're the new kid at school. Scotts Valley's football program is subpar compare...
I couldn't breathe. Within a school majority of brown eyes, mine were distinctive, but I expected superficiality. Brody wasn't looking at me, but seeing me as a person instead of a fucking disease. A thrill rushed through my veins. Could this boy be any cuter? Sure, he mumbled half his words and directed all of them to the ground but gave me the nicest compliment.
"You see all that?" I whispered.
"Uhh, yeah." He blushed and looked down. "It's comforting. I feel like I could tell you anything."
What a next-level compliment. Going by the explosion of flattery in me from being his compliment-recipient, Brody did not need my help. The physical compliment icing wasn't needed, and not just because it'd involve poking me in the eye.
A tiny frown creased his eyebrows. "Almost anything."
If my feet weren't moving, I would've melted into a track puddle. How awkward would it be to say he was as comfortable as my favorite pajamas? Because he was. "Thank you."
He cringed, wrinkling the side of his nose. "Too bad?"
"No. No." I grabbed his sleeve, curling my hand into a fist. He was not taking those words back. "Everything you said was nice and genuine. It was..."
He sucked in a breath, waiting for my next word. It had to be the right one to make him feel confident and let him know how much I appreciated not just his words but also him.
"...Perfect," I finished.
He exhaled and relaxed his shoulders, pulling his mouth into its cute half-grin. As it widened, I pressed my lips and looked away. The blush burning my face and my energized steps were only the start of my downfall.
This fake boyfriend would be the ruin of my poor heart.
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Brody was precious. I hadn't ever thought the word fit a boy, but it fit him. Precious meaning special. Rare. Pure. Worthy of being cherished.
No matter how often I washed my face, I couldn't remove the warmth in my cheeks. Brody was something else. Would I create a monster by helping him open up? I was torn between wanting the entire world to know such a sweet, genuine soul existed and hiding him from every person who didn't deserve him.
Two flames, the brightest mix of equal blue and green, burned at me.
"Stop thinking crazy," I whispered. Brody wasn't mine. I couldn't protect myself, and staring at my reflection wouldn't get me to work faster.
I wet my hand towel and mopped myself clean. Too many showers under the school's hard water irritated my skin, so I patted the necessary areas under my arms, around my breasts, and between my thighs with the damp cloth.
After every wipe down and pat dry, I pulled my hair in a low ponytail and changed inside a stall. Today, my clothes sat piled on a bench, but my bladder tugged at me before I could retrieve them. I couldn't stop smiling, even when the cold toilet pricked my skin. I needed to stop because I was borderline obsessing like every girl here and cupped my warm cheeks.
