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I am using this time to update my dating profiles and swipe through the men. The options are not looking great. Some guy took the time out of his day to put ‘together we could make a movie’ in his bio. I’m assuming he means a pornographic film. Yep. No way do I want some guy I just met recording me.

I never really used dating apps, preferring to meet people organically. But it’s also hard to meet people organically when I don’t leave my house. It’s one of the perks of being a writer, fewer social interactions. I only leave when I have a book event, interview, or I’m glued to Caleb, since he invites me to come everywhere with him.

“I need you to be my fake girlfriend,” Caleb calmly repeats as if he’s not requesting something totally outrageous. “My manager says the media perception of me is not good, and it could affect my sponsorships. You remember the last guy who got dropped from all his sponsors? It didn’t take long for his career to go down the drain.”

Looking away from my phone, I glance up at him with an arched brow. “But, why me? There are plenty of chicks out there that would jump on this opportunity. As you know, I need to start dating for my book. I can’t do that if I’m fake dating you because then I will be fake cheating.”

He pouts, to which I roll my eyes. “I don’t want just any ‘chick’. I want you. I trust you to not screw me over. Plus, popping up with a random woman will just make people suspicious. But they won’t question it if it's you. People already speculate. They would love the whole friends to lovers crap.”

I contemplate his favor. “What do I get out of this? You’ll be messing with my plans.”

At my words, his grin comes back. “In return, I’ll teach you all about romance and sex for your book. Who’s better to help you than me?”

I shake my head. “I can’t sleep with my best friend.”

“Don’t be silly, JJ.” He slowly leans down to my ear and whispers, “We won’t be sleeping.”

My eyes widen, and I look away with embarrassment. “Cross, stop playing around with me.”

He grasps my chin and turns me to face him. His usual playful grin is gone, replaced with a serious face. “I’m not joking. I really need a girlfriend. Everything I worked for could be at stake for something so stupid. You know how much I need football.”

Football is his entire life. I know he pushes himself so hard, thinking he has something to prove. I wish he would figure out that he doesn’t owe anyone shit.

I close my eyes with a sigh. There are a million reasons this plan could go to shit. But we both need each other, and I trust us to not let it affect our relationship.

“Of course, I’ll help you.”

He abruptly stands and throws a fist in the air, letting out a noise of excitement. Some of the players turn to look curiously but look away, probably thinking we are up to our usual nonsense.

“This means we can’t tell anyone we aren’t really dating. Even your family. Last thing we need is for anyone to get a whiff that this isn’t real.”

“Alright, alright Cross. I got it. I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “And I’ll show you all the things you need for your book. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable with someone you know rather than a complete stranger?” Most definitely. I know he would never hurt me.

“Yeah, but I don’t want it to affect our relationship. Sex makes things weird.”

“Nothing can affect our relationship. We have been best friends for years and never crossed the line. Now, we are intentionally doing it to further our careers. It’s just sex. Everyone has it. You have to get used to that idea if you are going to start writing about it.”

I let out a chuckle. “Okay, I’ll be your fake girlfriend and you’ll teach me about sex. Then, we’ll go back to normal.”

He holds out his pinky and I smile as I grasp it with mine. Since college, we always connect our pinkies when we make any promises. I thought it was childish, but he argued about symbolism. I mean it works though. We have never broken our promises. The first one we ever made was a promise to be in each other's lives till death. I plan to hold up my side of the promise.

He hands me a Gatorade bottle and picks up his own. Holding the bottle in front of him, he signals for me to tap his.

Why do I play along with his shenanigans?

“To being in a fake relationship with real benefits,” he says.

I tap his bottle. “Cheers, I guess.”

He narrows his eyes. “Say it with a little more excitement this time. This is how we seal the deal.”

I let out a huff and slap a smile on my face. “Cheers!”

“That’s more like it.”

“Cross!” the head coach yells. “Break time is over. Get back to it!”