One week on the bench.
That was Corey's punishment for instigating a fight. Dylan wasn't punished. Of course, not. He played the victim card as well as he could've. He was always good at being the victim; he'd had plenty of practice.
Besides, Corey threw the first punch. Everyone at the party could testify to it.
It could've been worse. If Corey wasn't Corey Bishop, it would have been worse.
Dylan's face was bloody and bruised. He was lucky his nose wasn't broken, but his lip was busted, and he had a ring of blue and purple around a swollen eyelid.
Considering everything, one week on the bench was getting off light.
To Corey, however, this was the end of the world.
I sat at the edge of the field, watching as Corey kicked another ball through the goal posts.
He hadn't spoken at all since I arrived at his practice, too busy throwing his little temper tantrum. Honestly, I should have been a little more pissed. He wasn't playing his part very well. I expected at least a greeting—a nod of acknowledgement at the very least.
Maybe a peck on the cheek. I tried not to think about how the idea made me feel—equal parts disgusted and warm inside. Okay, maybe not entirely equal. A little too warm and fuzzy for my own liking.
At least all of his teammates knew about his punishment, which meant we could play it off as him being pissed about his suspension.
Except I didn't miss the way Dylan had been looking at me all through practice. Like he knew something. No. Like he was suspicious of something.
"Not taking it well, huh?" Wes said, falling to sit on the grass beside me. He took a long swig of his Gatorade and wiped the mixture of sweat and sports drink from his upper lip.
I barked out a laugh. "That's one way to put it. I don't know what the big deal is. It's only one week. One match. He could've been kicked off the team."
"Could he?" Wes challenged. "Do you think the coaches would've risked losing Corey over this?"
"Okay, maybe not, but he's still being a little dramatic, don't you think?"
"I don't know." He shrugged. A pause. The corner of his mouth lifted knowingly. "But then again, you probably know him a lot better than I do, right?"
My face warmed. I'd forgotten my role for a moment. What kind of girlfriend would be complaining about her boyfriend like this? I was supposed to be on his side.
I cleared my throat, glancing away—back towards Corey who continued to send never ending footballs through the goal posts.
"You're right," I said. "The games mean a lot to him."
"Uh huh," Wes said, his smirk not leaving his lips. "Because of the scouts..."
"Right, the scouts. Who attend the games."
He scrutinised me for a moment. I swallowed drily. One week into our fake relationship, and I was already messing it up for us.
"Tell me, when did you guys start dating?" Wes asked.
"Oh, not long ago," I said. "It's pretty new."
"How did it even happen?" he asked—the question I was dreading. "If you don't mind me asking, that is. I just never would have pictured it and Corey's been really tight lipped."
I opened my mouth, my braincells working overtime to think of a response. We should have planned for this. We should have added it to the contract.
"Are you grilling my girlfriend?" Corey's voice came before I could conjure a believable explanation.
We looked up in sync, finding Corey towering over us. He panted heavily. Sweat lined his forehead and I had to tear my eyes away from the way his jersey stuck to his neck.
"How else am I supposed to get answers?" Wes asked, grinning. "You tell me nothing."
"I like my privacy," he replied. He turned to me, nodding in greeting.
I instantly soured. I'd been sitting here in the cold wind for an hour and now he wants to acknowledge me?
Almost immediately, I shut down that thought. Of course, he was going to acknowledge me now, when his teammate was sitting beside me. We were pretending to date. This wasn't real. We were putting on a show, and Wes' arrival was the curtain call.
And yet, a weight sat heavy in my chest as I looked at him.
"Get out of here, Wes," he said, nodding towards him. "I want to spend time with my girl."
My stomach flipped at his words and I worked very hard to stamp that feeling down. This is an act, I told myself. He's just playing along.
Wes lifted a brow. "Alone time, huh?"
Corey didn't entertain him. His eyes narrowed and Wes, after a moment of silent smirking, stood.
"Alright, alright," he said. He turned towards me and jutted his chin in a curt nod. "Sage. I hope to see you again tomorrow."
"You know I'll be here," I said, smiling.
Wes grinned back, grabbing his training bag and walking away. I watched his retreating back as he joined the rest of the team at the edge of the field and—God. Dylan stared directly at us, seemingly detached from whatever conversation the team could be having.
I shifted uncomfortably, forcing my body closer to Corey's, as if that would make our ruse look more believable. How much had Dylan seen? How much had be noticed?
"So," Corey said, ripping my attention back to him as he settled in the grass beside me. "You and Wes?"
I frowned at what he was implying. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, just—It's pretty hard to keep up my end of the deal when you're out here flirting with my teammates."
Okay, now I was pissed.
"Flirting?" I almost screeched. I sucked in a tight breath, trying to remember that his team could still be watching us. "We were having a conversation, Corey. Which, believe it or not, most of the Wolves are really friendly and have always made conversation with me, unlike you."
He scowled. "They're not as sweet and honourable as you think."
"Says you," I muttered. "You've been ignoring me all morning."
His expression shifted, turning into one of anger before fading back into blankness. He looked away.
I released a breath. Fine. He could keep silent if he wanted to, but I was done sitting here, waiting around. This contract was a terrible idea.
I gathered my things and stood, brushing the grass from my clothes. Before I could turn to leave, Corey spoke.
"I just—" he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "You're right. That wasn't fair of me. I'm just under a lot of stress right now."
I soured. "So now we're talking?" I asked, just because I wanted to be difficult. He rolled his eyes.
"I'm pissed, okay? To me, Dylan won that fight."
"What, because you have to sit on a bench for one game?"
"You don't get it, do you?" he asked, shaking his head. "I'm the team captain. That was—that wasn't right of me. I shouldn't have hit a teammate. I set a bad example, and Dylan knows that. He wanted me to throw that punch, and I did exactly what he wanted. I played into his plan."
"The team knows you're the best captain they have," I said. He met my eyes, and I almost took my words back, the anger still roiling in my stomach, but I had meant it. I wasn't sure where the words had come from, but they were true.
"And that one game—Dylan will play my position," Corey continued. "He got what he wanted. He got the opportunity. This could be bad for me, Sage."
"He's not going to replace you," I pointed out. He laughed shortly, as if the very idea was absurd.
"Of course not. It's not about that. It's about him winning. He can't win, Sage. I can't let him."
My lips pursed as I watched him. Winning what? Against who? Against Corey? I hadn't realised how deep Corey's vendetta against Dylan went.
Maybe when I chose Corey for our deal—maybe I had chosen the best possible candidate in more ways than one.
Maybe Corey really did have a stake in this tepid contract we'd written up.
Corey sighed, standing, and swinging his bag over his shoulder. He held his hand towards me.
"Let's go? I'll walk you back," he said.
I nodded. This was our first practice together since signing the contract. I had to get used to this.
I had to let go of old grudges. I had to accept Corey for who he was. Footy was the world to him. Even a week on the bench was soul crushing in his mind.
"I can give you back your jersey and jacket," I said, walking beside him. "I washed them last night."
He shook his head. "No, they're yours. At least, for three months."
I opened my mouth, ready to protest, only to shut it again. This wasn't some kind of nice gesture. This was just him playing his part of the deal. If I was going to pretend to be his girlfriend, I'd probably keep his jersey.
We walked together in silence.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said when we reached my door. He glanced around, ensuring no one was in the hallway with us. He lowered his voice. "I'll do better tomorrow."
I nodded, unsure how to take his words. "See you."
And with that, he turned and left.
I sighed, opening my door, and entering, resting my back against it in silence.
I had to get used to this. The awkward in-between with him. Not friends. Not lovers. We were something entirely different.
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I did see him the next day.
I stepped out of my programming lecture to find him perched on a bench outside.
I blinked, as if I were imagining him for a moment. He was too occupied with his phone to notice me.
I looked around, checking to see if he were waiting for someone else. When no one else appeared, I approached.
"Corey?" I asked.
He looked up, his eyes blank as they landed on me. "Sagely. Hey."
"What are you doing here?"
"I said I'd pick you up, didn't I?" He lowered his voice to murmur, "It's in the contract, remember?"
I blinked up at him, except he wasn't looking at me. He was gazing around campus. I followed his line of sight to all the students passing, eyes landing on us as they walked.
Right.
He was doing this for others to see. Yet another performance.
"Of course," I said. "I can't believe I forgot."
"So," he said, standing and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. It was too easy for him, being the human-giant that he was. I fit into his side like a crutch. "That was your last class of the day. What are your plans now?"
"Studying," I replied. "Lectures have been a bit full on this week."
"Right. I forgot you're a—" his eyes met mine and he swallowed his words— "student. You're a student who is studying..."
"Aeronautical engineering," I said. His brows shot up. "And keep your voice down. You should probably know what your girlfriend is studying."
"I knew that," he lied. "Where are you studying? The library?"
"I was thinking at your practice," I said.
"My practice? You don't have to. You should prioritise your studying."
I lifted a brow. That was weird. "It's alright. I studied at Dylan's practices all the time."
"Right, but if you've got an exam or something—"
"Nope, no exam. I just like to keep on top of the coursework," I chirped.
In my periphery, I watched as his brow creased. He was definitely hiding something.
"Really?" he asked. "Because..."
I sighed, stopping to turn to him. "Corey, what is it?"
His eyes flittered away. "Nothing, it's just... I heard a rumour."
"What rumour?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "I heard that Dylan's bringing that girl to practice again."
I opened my mouth, about to ask what girl he's talking about when I realised—that girl. The one Dylan had cheated on me with. I swallowed drily and started walking again.
"That's fine," I said.
"Fine?" Corey echoed.
"Yeah. Dylan and I are over. He can do whatever he likes."
"And you're okay with seeing her at practice?"
I nodded. "I'm going to have to sometime."
We reached the end of the footpath and I stopped.
"Actually, Corey, I think I'll meet you there. I need to run home first. Grab some things."
Corey narrowed his eyes skeptically.
"You're sure you want to come?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes. It'll be fine. I just want to freshen up a bit. I look like a bit of a mess right now."
It was true. I never really put much effort into my appearance if I was just going to class, so my hair was in a messy bun and my face was probably greasy, my purple bags on display.
"Okay," he said. His eyes darted around for a second before he pulled me into a hug.
I almost jumped out of his arms before I remembered—right. We're meant to be a couple.
I let myself sink into his chest for a moment before he pulled back. We were close. Too close. Panic unleashed inside of me, and I thought for one fearful moment that he might kiss me.
Instead, his lips moved down towards my ear.
"Bring the jersey," he whispered, "and wear shorts."
I pulled back, expecting him to be smiling. Laughing. Instead, he was dead serious.
"We'll make him see," he iterated. "If the game made him jealous, this practice will drive him mad. He'll be banging on your door tonight.""
I laughed, shaking my head. "That wasn't my goal with all this."
"Yeah, but think of how sweet it'll be to slam the door in his face."
He grinned at me, and I found myself mirroring his smile. He had a point.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
I hate to say it but I have writer's block guys 😭 this chapter was so hard to write lmao hopefully inspiration hits soon so updates can be more regular!
Thank you all for the love on the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this one too! Let me know and see you soon! x