Chapter 10: The Fake Zone: Chapter 10

“My feet still hurt, and I don’t even regret that we didn’t get drunk and waste the night avoiding guys at a bar,” Hannah says as we pile into the hotel.

“This was the best day ever,” Hadley says.

Evelyn flashes a smile. “It really was.”

“Remind me, what time are you girls flying out tomorrow?” Nolan asks.

“Eleven. The van is coming to pick us up at eight.” Katie cuts her eyes over the entire group. “Be down here for breakfast at seven.”

Hadley looks at her phone and whimpers. “How about seven thirty?”

“

,” Katie says.

Mila’s the only one who doesn’t comment. We pile into two elevators, stopping three times before we hit the fifth floor, where only Mila and I get off.

I eye the Disney bag in her hand and tilt my head. “You can stay again if you want…”

She shakes her head. “I need to pack.”

I follow her down the opposite hall toward her room.

“You really don’t have to walk me.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to anyway. Aren’t you?”

I nod.

Mila’s shoulders slump, but she doesn’t object, continuing to her room.

“What did you get?” I ask, pointing at the gift bag.

“Just something for my dad, Jon.” She shrugs.

“What is it?”

Mila releases a breath. “A Stitch ornament. Jon gets something Stich themed every time we come to Disney. It’s kind of our thing.” Her voice is a singsong, as though she’s trying to lighten the mood or the significance of her words.

“Why Stitch?”

We take five more steps before she rubs her lips together. “Because I was adopted.” She swallows. “Kind of like Stitch.”

I’ve only heard Mila mention being adopted once before, and that was after Palmer asked her outright when learning she had two fathers.

“I’ve tried to convince him to switch to Hercules, you know, God instead of alien, but…” She shrugs her tone light again, the same playful notes from earlier.

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

“Seven.”

The number feels like a gut punch, but as I consider it, I’m not sure any age would feel easier—better.

Mila stops at her door before I can consider a question that doesn’t sound either intrusive or thoughtless, like why she was adopted or if it was a difficult adjustment.

She waves her key across the keypad and presses down on the door lever as soon as it flashes green. With one foot inside, she looks over her shoulder at me. “Thanks… I’ll… see you around.”

If I were any of the other guys in our friend circle, she’d be hugging me. I try not to think about it as I take a step back. “If you need anything—text me, or call, or whatever.”

She smirks like she assumes the words are an obligation and disappears into her room.

The blackout shades make it appear like its midnight when I wake up, but the digital clock confirms it’s six-forty-five, two hours before I need to be awake.

I roll to my side and close my eyes. I had a hell of a time falling asleep last night, checking and rechecking my phone to ensure Mila hadn’t messaged me. I even got up twice, convinced I heard footsteps in the hall and thinking she might be waiting outside my door, worried about disturbing me.

Someone yells, a toilet flushes, a shower turns on. I shove a pillow over my head and close my eyes.

My phone vibrates across the nightstand.

I swear.

“Yeah?” I answer.

“What are you doing, asshole?” Cole asks.

“Sleeping,” I mumble.

He chuckles. “Not anymore. You won your game, and you won me a grand!”

“You’re welcome,” I murmur.

He laughs again. “Guess who called and wants to set up a fight? Scooter,” he answers before I have the chance to say anything.

I sit up.

“When does he want to schedule it?” It’s not an if but a when. Scooter Williams is one of the most followed fighters in the MMA. Going up against him—beating him—would be a golden ticket.

“He wants to fight the second week of March. This is my chance, Grey.”

“You have a fight the week before,” I remind him. “Schedule it for April.”

“Did you not hear me? Scooter Williams. You don’t say no to this kind of opportunity.”

I don’t know if he’s talking about his fight or my decision not to enter the draft.

“He reached out to you,” I remind him. “Baxter will be a tough fight. You don’t want to fight Williams if you’re bruised or still sporting a swollen eye.”

“Baxter doesn’t stand a chance. The fight won’t last thirty minutes.”

I scoff. Confidence aside, we both know that’s a lie.

“I can do this. I’ll beat the shit out of Baxter and then take on Williams. This will define my career. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

I roll to my back and peel the pillow off my face. “Scooter wants to fight you because you’re gaining recognition. Don’t let him start with the upper hand.”

“And turn away this money? I haven’t even told you how much they’re offering me yet.”

I pull in a breath through my nose and close my eyes. “What did Mackey say?” Mackey is Cole’s trainer, a gym rat who pushes Cole and the only one with a free pass to insult him, which he takes full advantage of.

“He thinks I can do it. I’d be putting in the hours, working my ass off, regardless. Might as well make it worth it.”

Scooter has gained recognition because he’s one of the toughest competitors, known for his speed and strength. I don’t tell Cole this, though, because reminding him of his weaknesses is what the people of Highgrove have been doing for the past twenty-two years.

“You’ll do it. We’ll get in extra training.”

“Hell yes. Abe’s fighting tomorrow against Preston. You gonna show?”

“What time?”

“Nine over at Billie’s.”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Well get up. You’re wasting daylight. Get those miles and reps in. What in the hell are you doing asleep, anyway?”

It would be a dick move to tell him I’m exhausted from a thirteen-hour day at Disney World. I grumble a response that makes Cole chuckle before he hangs up.

I shower and pack the last of my things before heading down to the lobby.

“Hey,” Evelyn greets me with a smile as she steps behind me at the buffet. “You’re up early.”

I hand her a plate and gesture for her to go first.

She blushes but obliges. Evelyn’s one of the most genuinely good and kind people I’ve met. She reminds me of my mom: hardworking, honest, and always looking out for others, which makes her one of the people whose opinions I care about.

We pile our plates full, Evelyn carrying two because she leaves wide gaps between her food to prevent them from touching. I catch sight of Mila at the end of the table, nursing another coffee before Evelyn leads us over to her.

“You need more than just melon,” Evelyn says, pushing a plate I realize now was intended for Mila in front of her with a pancake, scrambled eggs, and bacon.

Mila looks up from her coffee, her eyes puffy from exhaustion. She looks at me without a reaction and then pushes the plate away. “I ate my weight in snacks yesterday.”

Evelyn nudges the plate closer to Mila, but not as far as she had the first time. “No one says no to pancakes.” She bites into a slice of bacon.

Mila glances at the food, spears a piece of honeydew and pops it into her mouth before turning her attention to her phone for half a second before setting it in front of Evelyn. “I wouldn’t respond.”

Evelyn shakes her head. “I can’t just ignore her. That would be rude.”

Mila takes another drink of coffee. “Her message is snotty. She’s mad at you for not coming home for Christmas and is telling you she returned your gift because of it.”

“Who?” I ask.

Mila’s eyes flash with malice.

“My best friend from New Mexico. She feels like I’m putting Hudson in front of everyone else.”

“In other words, she’s bitter as fuck,” Mila says, taking another bite of cantaloupe.

“I forgot my coffee,” Evelyn says, pushing back from the table. “Do you guys need anything to drink?”

We both shake our heads before Evelyn leaves us with a heavy cloud of silence falling over the table.

“Why are you staring at me?” Mila asks.

“You look tired.”

“You don’t tell women that,” she says shaking her head. “It’s basically code for saying we look like shit.”

“No, that’s only what you take it to mean.”

Mila shakes her head. “It’s like telling us to smile, or to eat, or not to curse.”

“Wait…” I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Tell me that list again.”

Evelyn returns with coffee and a glass of orange juice before I can poke hard enough to see if Mila will bite. She looks between us, reading the tension as she plasters a smile on her face. “They have pretty decent coffee here and good creamer choices.”

Mila nods, taking a sip from her own cup.

“What are you doing for the rest of break, Grey?” Evelyn asks, cutting into her pancakes.

“The gym and going home to Highgrove,” Mila answers for me.

Evelyn waits for me to clarify or add something as she takes a bite of her pancakes. When I don’t, she looks between us. “We should all do something.”

Mila’s smile teeters between being smug and amused. I’m waiting for Evelyn to call her out on it and ask what in the hell she’s thinking, but Hudson drops into the chair next to Evelyn with a full plate, kissing her on the temple before greeting Mila and me.

“Where have you been?” I ask.

“Talking to Griff,” he says. “He—”

“Greyson!”

I turn in my seat to see who’s called my name and spot Emma Kemp striding toward us, tucking a pair of sunglasses on top of her head.

“Oh god,” Mila mutters.

Our table has three empty seats, but Emma takes the one beside me. “I was hoping to run into you!” She places her Starbucks cup on the table and smiles warmly. “Did you get my text?”

I did. I ignored all eleven messages until we returned to the hotel late last night. They varied from apologizing for being rude yesterday to understanding my attraction to Mila and insisting she knew how persistent fans could be before making it clear she’d still like to hang out.

It took turning off my phone and completing a hundred pushups to soothe my annoyance and keep myself from responding.

“Yeah, sorry. Mila and I were at Disney World, celebrating.”

Emma pulls her chin back. “You went to Disney World?”

I take a bite of biscuits and gravy and stare at her.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Disney, but … I don’t know. I just can’t picture you with the matching shirts and ears.”

I glance at Mila, hoping to find annoyance or maybe jealousy, but all that’s visible are the traces of humor and surprise before she tips back her coffee.

I point at Hudson. “Emma, have you met Hudson and his girlfriend Evelyn? Guys, this is Emma Kemp. Her father is Linus Kemp, one of our team’s boosters.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. I don’t think we’ve met.” She extends her hand to Hudson and Evelyn, ignoring Mila.

Mila lifts her gaze to Emma’s bland indifference aside from her arched brows.

Blood pumps through my veins, fighting every instinct to react and tell Emma to take a long walk off a very short pier.

“I heard you decided to stay at Camden another year rather than enter the draft.”

I nod, lacking the same skills of diplomacy Hudson has mastered. It’s one of the many things Krueger reminds me I must hone.

Emma smiles encouragingly. “I have no doubt you would have been a high pick, but Camden’s lucky to have you stick around.” She tucks her elbows to her sides. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you Saturday at the party.” She slips out of her seat and waves before disappearing, reminding me I need to ask Mila for another big favor.