Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)

“Aren’t you dating Thorne?” someone asks in passing on their way to the game.

I stop dead on the sidewalk and scowl at her, already annoyed that this random girl is wearing his number. She looks me up and down, as if she has no idea why he’s dating me.

Apparently, neither does he.

I don’t know how to answer her question. Am I dating him? Fake-dating, I mean? After I shoot her a dirty look, she stares at me strangely and scurries off toward the stadium.

Am I supposed to be going to the game and acting all lovey toward him like before? He said his parents didn’t believe our ruse, but I’m not sure if that means he’s calling it off or if he’s only wanting to act like we’re a couple in the public eye. Does it really matter? His parents are still trying to actively set him up on dates. They don’t really care if he is dating me.

I skipped out on our last PT session. He didn’t question it.

Instead of going to the weight room, I did exercises in my bedroom.

I don’t need him.

Hurt tangles my heart. His rejection stings. But what did I expect? This isn’t on him, it’s on me. I let myself get invested knowing that our relationship wasn’t going to last. It was based on a lie, a ploy. Yet, why does it hurt more than when I walked in on Ben cheating on me?

My phone buzzes as I walk in the opposite direction of the stadium.

I lose my breath with his name on the screen.

The first thing I type is, No, I wouldn’t want to be a distraction. But I quickly click the backspace and refrain from acting hurt over this.

My heart skyrockets when I see that he’s typing. I’m not sure what’s worse: him breaking up with me and us having to deal with the campus gossip, or still having to fake our relationship in front of everyone when really, I’m feeling the sting of rejection every time he crosses my mind.

An excuse. That’s all I am.

Great.

I slip my phone into my pocket and turn around.

Marley and Lydia said they’d save me a seat if I decided to come to the game. I blamed not going on a paper that was due.

There is no paper.

I finished it the night before when I couldn’t sleep.

I pass by the girl who asked if I was Thorne’s girlfriend and accidentally nudge her with my shoulder.

She gasps.

“Oops, sorry.” Not.

Once I arrive at the game, I’m the only one in regular clothes. Everyone is dressed in maroon or gold, sporting their Shadow Valley attire. I’m in my black jeans, Converse—because I refuse to wear the Docs that Thorne bought me—and a thick black sweater. I look like a black cat, which is exactly what Thorne refers to me as.

“Hey!” Marley scoots down. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

I shrug. “I finished my paper.”

She and Lydia both stare at me for a second too long. They can tell something is up but they know me well enough not to ask.

Throughout the game, I fake clap and cheer to keep my role as Thorne’s girlfriend going.

By the last quarter, my cheers aren’t fake.

Even if I am hurt by his rejection, I still want what’s best for him, and that means winning.

The buzzer sounds, and Shadow Valley continues their winning streak.

Lydia, Marley, and I join in the crowd with our cheering. Some girls have taken their shirts off and stand in nothing but bras, waving the cotton around and yelling out various players’ names.

I hear a lot of Thorne but I block it out as I walk down the steps to the gate.

It doesn’t take long for him to spot me standing with my friends.

He’s in the middle of the field, giving an interview when he stops in the middle of speaking and smiles at me.

He makes it seem so real.

I have butterflies and I hate that.

Ugh.

He places his hand on the reporter’s arm and nods over to me. The camera pans and shit, I’m up.

I smile warmly and wave.

I’m certain this is for a show in case his parents are watching.

My heart races as soon as he heads over to me.

I do my best to play it cool when he leans over the fence to bring me closer. His long arms reach me easily, and his hands fall to my waist.

His lips are soft against my cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

“Gotta keep up our charade,” I say cooly.

Why does this hurt so much?

He pulls back, and although his face is smooth without any expression, I can see the concern. “You didn’t come to our training session.”

“You told me I was a distraction. What did you expect?”

Thankfully, it’s so loud with the roaring crowd that no one can really hear us. This time, he doesn’t hide his unease.

“Kiss me and go.” I’m desperate to put space between us and I’m even more desperate to leave.

Any minute now, my potential killer could walk out of the locker room, freshly showered and ready to burn me alive again. And this relationship is fake. After Thorne’s dismissal of me the other day, I have no problems keeping that in the forefront of my brain.

His jaw flexes.

He glances at my mouth, and I hate myself for craving him.

I reach up on my tiptoes, ignoring the radiating pain from my hip down to my foot, and let him kiss me.

It’s a light kiss but it lasts far too long, like he didn’t want it to end.

I’m the one to break us apart.

“I’ll see you later,” I say, trying my best to keep my voice neutral.

He nods and turns.

I do the same.

Only I won’t see him later.