Faking It: A Small Town College Bad Boy Romance Read online

  Faking It

  Hunter Rose

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright 2020 © Hunter Rose

  Hunter’s Roses

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  To the ones I’ve loved, the people I’ve lost and those that have inspired me along the way.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  More by Hunter Rose

  A Free Gift For You

  Coming Soon

  About the Author

  1

  Trace

  College: the last pit stop before being thrust into a world of forced responsibility. In a world where senseless partying is frowned upon and getting up early is mandatory, college life is easier, more exciting, and less stressful.

  “We need to get you ready to take over the company, Trace,” my father likes to say, hell-bent on training me to become president of Weston Enterprises. I resist, and want to stay in college forever, partying.

  Speaking of parties, that’s where I am right now: a college party, filled with alcohol and smoking-hot girls. Craig, my college classmate, has a house in the exquisite Palm Beach. It overlooks the Atlantic Ocean, nestled in the heart of South Florida, where kids grow up with trust funds folded inside their designer wallets, and where women with fake tans, fake noses, and other fake body parts walk dogs in strollers and kids on leashes.

  The music pumps, and people crowd the table as I enjoy a friendly game of poker. Well, it started out friendly, but now has turned into something different. Tony, my roommate, and I are in on this hand, as everyone has folded. Losers. All night, the same shit: I get a good hand, and everyone folds.

  I glance at the cards one more time: pocket tens. The flop shows the other two tens and a jack of spades. Four of a kind is a great hand to hold in poker. I’m a confident guy, so I’ll take my chances and continue. Across the room, I spot Hailey. She has long, brown hair and sex in her eyes. She and I hook up occasionally. And I mean, barely occasionally. In fact, it’s been a long time since I’ve even been with her. I get bored. Easily. And Hailey isn’t anything that great to hold my attention. She’s dancing with friends in a short black dress and killer high heels. She laughs, throwing her head back, and her friends giggle along with her. She smiles at me, and I smile back, before returning my attention back to the game.

  Turning to Tony, who has a big, shit-eating grin on his face, I move a few chips onto the pile.

  Craig laughs. “Come on, Trace, you ain’t got shit.”

  “Shut the hell up, Craig,” I say, chugging my beer, a large smile on my face.

  I’ve known Craig for a few months, but he irritates me. Maybe because he’s an asshole. But it’s his house, so I play nice.

  Tony, my roommate, grins. Hell, he may have something. Still, confidence won’t let me back down. Or maybe it’s pride? Tony runs a hand through his wavy, blonde hair as the crease in his forehead deepens. His light brown eyes peruse the cards in his sweaty hands. With a new stroke of assurance, I throw more chips onto the pile. Tony follows suit; he’s unable to back down from a challenge, too.

  Darren, my other roommate, shrugs. “Perhaps he has a full house?”

  I stare past Darren to Hailey on the dance floor. She smiles, then ducks her head to her friend’s ear as they giggle.

  I focus, waiting for the last card to flip, knowing I’ve got this. Sure, maybe Hailey and I will hook up later, maybe we won’t. But one thing’s for certain, I’m gonna win this hand. How can I not?

  Right before Craig flips it over, Tony looks me up and down. He asks, “Hey, wanna make this interesting? How about a side bet?”

  I cock a brow, watching as Hailey grinds her body on the dance floor—could she be any sexier? She probably could. She could be a blonde. I’ve always had a thing for blondes, but Hailey’s easy. So, it works. My hand brushes through my thick, dark hair, and I smile. “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

  “If I win, then you have to, umm . . .” He glances around the party as his smile spreads across his face. “See that girl over there?” He points to a girl at the other side of the house, who’s leaning against a wall with her arms crossed over her chest. I’ve never seen her before. She is wearing a tight red mini skirt and white shirt with sparkles across the front, highlighting her big, blue eyes. She’s in a deep discussion with some lanky, blond guy.

  She’s stunning. And I don’t normally say that about a chick. But this girl is downright beautiful. I keep staring at her.

  “Yeah? I’ve never seen her before.” I glance back at Tony.

  He itches at his ear for a moment. “Well, if I win, you and she have to have a vanilla relationship.”

  “Vanilla relationship? What’s that?” I ask with a laugh.

  Craig pipes in, laughing as he says, “It’s a real, normal relationship. You know, the opposite of your usual, kinky, one-night stands.”

  The sweat thickens on my upper brow. Can he be serious?

  “You’re kidding, right? Besides, it looks like she’s taken.” I jab a finger toward the guy with her.

  “No, she’s not. Trust me,” Tony says with a smile.

  “Trust you? Yeah, right. How do you know she isn’t dating that jerk-off?” I shift in the chair and glance at my cards one more time.

  I don’t like this idea.

  “Because she’s in a class of mine. They’re friends. Only for a month. A month-long, vanilla relationship. That’s easy,” Tony says, like he’d know what easy is. Dude can’t even get a girlfriend.

  “And if I win?” I ask, knowing my hand is rock solid.

  “Well, what do you think?” He shrugs his shoulders, that goofy grin making me angry.

  “How about a P.A.?” I laugh, knowing he will never agree to it.

  “P.A.? What is that?” he asks, chuckling.

  “Prince Albert.”

  Craig spits out his beer, throwing his head back in laughter. “It’s a freaking piercing on your dick.”

  Tony bites back in anger, “I know what a Prince Albert is. Why are the stakes so high?”

  “Hey, man, the bet was your idea,” I remind him. I’m positive that, by this time tomorrow, Tony will be in the worst pain ever.

  Who knows, maybe it’ll help his game with the ladies.

  “Okay, and what if you don’t follow through with the bet?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, not fully understanding what he’s saying.

  “If you fail to have your relationship, then you sign over the title to your Shelby Cobra.”

  My Shelby Cobra? Fuck that. That car is my pride and glory. Everything about my baby is priceless. Besides, my father would kill me if I lost the car. Zero to sixty in three-point-four seconds, black paint, hot rims. No way. Glancing around the
party once more, I become distracted by all the pretty girls. I chance a quick peek at the blonde again, and my mood sours.

  I would like to get closer to her. But my Cobra? Could I even last a full month with one woman?

  I stare at her, and her eyes slam into mine for such a quick second, I almost miss the feeling that crashes through me. What the fuck was that?

  “My fucking car. Yeah, right.”

  “Look, man, we need to know you’ll take this bet seriously,” Tony says with an authoritative tone.

  “What about you? What if you don’t go through with your end of the deal?”

  “I will, but you need some sort of collateral. Something I know you don’t want to lose.”

  I’m confident I won’t lose this hand, so I nod my head. “Fine.”

  He picks up a few chips and mulls over the bets. A sly smile spreads across his chiseled face.

  Both Darren and Craig sit statue-like, while Tony and I never break eye contact.

  I have four of a kind; there is no way I’m losing. With a glance across the room at the girl leaning against the wall, I sigh. I turn sideways in the chair to gain better access; studying her features, even I can tell she isn’t pleased. She seems to be fighting with the tall kid, who grabs her by the shoulders. I’m half-tempted to walk over there and hit him. Then I jerk back in the chair as the need to defend her shocks me. Who is she?

  Tony reiterates the challenge. “So, let me get this straight. I win, you date her. I lose, I have to get a Prince Albert, right?”

  “Yep.” I let the ‘p’ pop on my word.

  Then, it’s as if the music stops and everyone in the room ceases to exist. Tony and I don’t break the bond with our eyes, knowing the stakes are huge. I never back down from a bet; I’m more than confident I won’t lose. Grabbing my beer, I lean over to Tony. “We doing this?”

  He looks worried, and for a moment, my confidence grows. The best he may have is a full house, but that doesn’t beat a four of a kind. He looks back over to blondie, then glances down to his crotch and grins, “Okay. Turn the last card.”

  Craig flips over a queen of spades. Now I’m sitting with four of a kind, queen high. I got this. Darren and Craig are afraid to breathe, glancing at Tony, who looks as though he just won the lottery. Fuck, what does he have? The air thickens as I try to swallow the last of my now-warm beer. The cards show my four of a kind. Tony releases a deep breath and flips the cards over to show his ace and king of spades. Kill me, I just lost.

  I just fucking lost.

  I blink.

  My anger builds like a volcano inside me, threatening to erupt. I take a deep breath, and with one hand, sling the cards toward Tony. His grin is killing me, and I want so badly to punch something. A fucking royal flush! That never happens. How could that happen? I bolt up, knocking the chair to the ground, and push the chips across the table. Craig and Darren sit frozen, watching my rage unfold.

  Tony smirks. “Hey, calm down. Your new girlfriend is Vanessa.” He points to the girl against the back wall. “You’d better get started. Don’t want to lose that sweet-ass ride of yours.” He erupts into laughter and shakes his head.

  All I see is red. I take a quick glance back at this girl, Vanessa. She is staring at me—well, everyone is staring after the spectacle I’ve made. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, I spot something in hers. Curiosity?

  With a half-smile, I walk over to Hailey, still dancing in her short black dress, and snake an arm around her waist. “Want to get out of here?” Because I need to let out this anger, I don’t say.

  Her eyes light up with fire, and she smiles.

  “Let’s go. Now,” I say, motioning towards the door. With a glimpse toward the blonde in the red-hot mini skirt, I leave with Hailey, in her killer black dress, the woman who’s been eye-fucking me all night.

  On the way to her apartment, she runs a hand along my thigh. The smell of flowers and cheap perfume works its way through my Cobra, giving me a headache.

  She’s shrill when she speaks, and I try to ignore it, knowing I need to release this pent-up anger. There’s something about the way tonight had gone down that bothers me.

  Now I have to date this chick?

  I shake my head, remembering I’ve got one more night before I’ll have to start dating this girl.

  Hailey asks me why I was so angry earlier, and I mumble about losing on a great hand of poker. This answer seems to suffice, and her mouth remains shut for the rest of the way.

  We enter her apartment, a typical college girl’s hideout. Pink, frilly things and books are everywhere, and a nice, flowery couch sits in the living room. She offers me a drink, but I shake my head and grab a hold of her as we enter the room. We make our way over to the wooden-framed bed, kicking off our shoes.

  She leans in to kiss me, whispering, “I have wanted you all night.”

  I try kissing her back, but I am just not in the mood tonight. When we left the party, I was sure this is what I wanted to do, but looking at Hailey now, all I can see is Vanessa. Why can’t I get her out of my head?

  I pull away, not wanting to hurt Hailey’s feelings, but knowing I need to get out of here. “Listen,” I say. “I should get going. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

  Hailey pouts and in the past, this would have most likely worked on me. I would have stayed and had a fun night, but instead I head toward the door. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you soon.” It’s a lie, but I just need to get out of here as quickly as possible. I need to figure out why I can’t stop thinking about Vanessa. And fast.

  2

  Vanessa

  Anger. It starts in the chest and moves outward until the whole body is alight with fire. The heat makes it impossible to produce a coherent thought, as if a fire is blazing in the brain. Hate pours at random on anyone caught in the path. Tonight, that person caught in the path is Jordan, my best friend. Well, to be honest, he did begin the angry blaze that burns inside me, but still, as I sit here at this party, I want to hurt someone.

  Mainly him.

  Where do I begin? Oh Jordan, sweet little Jordan . . . I guess I’ll start at the beginning; the very beginning.

  I moved from Ohio to Florida on a whim, to attend college. I thought it would be magical. I thought it would be a dream come true. Florida was the answer to all my woes. Ohio just wasn’t working out for me, and it was best I left. I lived in a small town, just outside of Columbus, and one fine morning, I packed up my little Subaru and headed south. There was a little more planning than that, but you get the point.

  When I first arrived in Palm Beach, Florida, it was scary to be so alone. The town wasn’t at all what I had expected. There were palm trees and sandy beaches everywhere, but the place had style; a whole lot of style. And I instantly felt like an outsider, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

  In the middle of the island is a classic hotel called The Breakers, which is the stomping ground to many famous people: the Kennedys, the Kenans, and, of course, Mr. Henry Flagler himself. He made that island what it is today. He built a railroad to bring the elite of New York down south. Everywhere you turn, there is a Mercedes or a Bentley, carrying lavishly wealthy people who don’t know what it was like to work for their money.

  But, enough about that. I am nowhere near that level.

  Instead, when I arrived, I rented a studio apartment that I leased month-to-month. At night, I’d hear every little creak in the place and I’d stay up, terrified.

  I wanted to be stronger, but given my past, fear was my middle name. After a few weeks, I found a job, then started going to school, and life was chugging along. Still afraid, though, my calls home to Mom were nightly.

  The job, at a restaurant called Pesto’s, is where I first met Maxine. Strong, exuberant, and full of life, she was the kind of person I wanted to be, and we became instant friends.

  One day, she asked if I wanted to move in, and I jumped at the chance. No more being afraid? Yes, please.

  Then, this sem
ester, I met Jordan in one of my classes. Sweet guy. No! He is! We hit it off, and now hang out all the time.

  He’s my best friend.

  My roomie, Maxine, is great too, but Jordan is the one to whom I confide all my secrets; and that says something.

  I drove my own car to the party tonight, and since the very moment I entered the gorgeous house nestled on the infamous Palm Beach, Jordan has been giving me attitude.

  “You should leave Florida. Go back to Ohio.”

  “Why would you even say this?” I ask my best friend.

  Maxine is at the party too, but I haven’t seen her since I arrived. I glance around, wondering where she might be, when I see the boy she likes, Darren, playing poker across the room. I try to focus on Jordan and what he’s trying to tell me, but I can’t stop staring at the game.

  The poker game is in full swing and has my full attention. Tony is the only person I know at the card table, besides Darren. Tony’s in a class of mine and asked me out a few months back. I said no, though, and now we never talk.

  And he’s an okay guy, I guess, but I just didn’t feel that spark. And I’ve got a little bad experience with boyfriends, so I don’t want to go down that road again.

  Next to them is a dark-haired hottie whom everyone knows: Trace Weston. Sex on a stick and yummy to lick. Okay, honestly, I don’t know where that came from. And I wouldn’t know if he is yummy to lick, because I have never talked to him, let alone licked him. He does seem like a smooth talker, and, from what I hear, relationships are a foreign concept to him.