Player's Guide To Catfishing (PLAYBOOK #1)

CHAPTER 45: The 6 week expiry date

ODESSA

"Well, I'll be damned."

Either I'm hallucinating or Liam Griffith just materialized inside my mirror. I turn around and there he is in the flash—nightmare galore.

"Surprise!" He actually smiles with glee. "I see you got my gift." He's talking about the flowers. "I'm sorry I missed your first performance, I got on the earliest flight but there was still a delay. Anyway, I got here just in time for your amazing solo!"

So he saw it?

"You broke more than a leg baby," I let him pick me up and spin me around. "You were perfect!"

I look at him and his eyes are full of true happiness, like he is really happy to see me which somehow makes things worse.

"Liam, we need to talk."

"Then celebrate," he finally puts me down and connects our lips. "Man, I missed you." He declares and something in me dies.

5days, we were apart for 5 fucking days and he has the guts to act like nothing happened?

"Liam," I pull away and stare at him.

He is in dark denim and a navy button-down shirt, I look at his feet and they have black and white Vans. His blonde locks sleeked back and clean, his jewelry gone probably because he was supposed to meet my parents today.

Not anymore.

We're in the fire escape hall as Liam stares at a photo of him and Olivia. He was in high spirits till I showed him the picture that's all over blackbook.

Ironically, my performance and this photo are the top things trending and currently fighting for number one. The big basketball win in solid number 3.

"I can explain." Liam finally says, his voice thick with something I have never heard.

Worry? Remorse? What the hell is it?

"Explain what exactly?" I'm genuinely confused.

Pictures are a thousand words but this one says a million. We're a fake couple and our time is up. I was stupid enough to believe it could work because he's the campus playboy and I'm the catfish fool that believed my own lies.

We never stood a chance.

"I was drunk—I think." He rubs the side of his head. "Things are a blur, but she had dark hair and I was really drunk—I think. It was a mistake." He continues, no doubt making things worse.

"I understand." I'm scary calm, like the type that happens before a huge storm.

Hurricane Vecker is what my roommates call it, they have only seen it once and it was enough to name it because some stupid boy had the guts to cheat on America—a literal sweetheart.

Well, poor Henry Benson was unfazed as I calmly, too calmly told him to leave our pride and joy alone. Then he blinked and I was swinging a bat into his already crap car, he tried to defend himself but I pulled him by the ear (like a mother does a naughty child) and made him apologize on his knees.

What can I say? An angry Russian and a deadly weapon were a scary combo.

He didn't press charges because he was more scared of the consequences but I still paid for it to be fixed because America felt bad. Ever since then, I've done everything to keep the hurricane in me at bay—Cambridge doesn't count.

But then I met Liam Griffith and suddenly the beast awoke, hungrier than ever.

"Vecker." Liam is falling apart right before me.