Falling for the Fake Boyfriend

  Clearview Falls University Book #1

  SE Rose

  Sierra Hill

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  More CFU Coming Soon

  About the Author

  Copyright 2023 SE Rose and Sierra Hill

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an 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.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Editing: And Then Pie

  Cover Design: SE Rose

  Chapter One

  E mmett

  “Emmett, honey? Is that you?”

  I step over the threshold of the back door leading into the kitchen where it’s nearly dark, the only light coming faintly from the living room around the corner. The scent of cinnamon sticks and cloves immediately hits my nostrils and sends a flood of emotion to my brain.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Nana. Sorry I’m late, practice ran over today. But I have the groceries and your meds.”

  I flip on the overhead light in the small and warm kitchen, setting down the bag of groceries I picked up on my way over from football practice.

  One look at the unkempt kitchen—the unwashed plates piling up in the sink, and the greasy mucky gunk stuck at the bottom of the roast pan from Sunday’s dinner—and guilt washes over me.

  It’s been a bad week for her, and I should’ve made time to visit sooner than today.

  “Fuck,” I mutter to myself. It’s going to be a long night ahead of me. This situation is getting worse, nearly unmanageable for me to keep up with everything I have on my plate, and I’m at a loss of what to do. I fear I won't be able to keep up anymore.

  It’s not going to be my college education or my spot on the Clearview Falls U football team, that’s for sure. I will do anything for my grandmother but when push comes to shove, I’ll find another solution before I drop out of school or lose my hard-won position as the team’s wide receiver.

  The fridge is practically empty when I open it up to put away the perishables I bought at the market in town. There’s a leftover casserole that one of Nana’s church friends brought over earlier in the week that looks like it’s done for, some wilted salad mix, and a half-eaten apple.

  Nana hasn’t been eating much lately. She claims she’s watching her girlish figure, but I know it’s more than that. At seventy-two, she has been plagued by a plethora of medical ailments over the past five years but most notably her MS, which has progressively worsened, leaving her in considerable pain and a reduction in mobility.

  I drive her to her monthly treatments, but the flare-ups of chronic muscular pain and temporary paralysis have become so frequent that they impair her ability to move around on her own and her quality of life, leaving her alone and in a wheelchair.

  It sucks because Nana is the only person left in my life I can count on. It’s definitely not my dad, who has proven time and time again that he's only out for his own best interests. Case in point, I'm here and he's not.

  “Honey, come on in and sit for a spell. The groceries can wait. I want to catch up with you. Tell me how your week is going.”

  I finish with the remaining pantry items and grab two waters, then round the corner into the living room where the sight of my grandma gives me a stabbing pain in my heart. It’s only been four days since I last visited, but I swear she looks smaller and more frail each time I see her.

  It makes me sad and angry all at once. Thank God I can take it out on the football grid; otherwise, I might just break down and sob. Or break things. But I know that won’t help.

  Despite her issues, Nana’s smile remains big and proud and gives me an instant dose of happiness.

  “There’s my boy!” She opens her arms wide, like she’s parting the Red Sea from her chair. “Come over here and give your old Nana a hug.”

  I do as she says and place the bottles down on her TV tray next to her overstuffed lounger, then gently wrap her body into my arms. I’m always careful not to embrace her too tightly for fear of unintentionally breaking a bone or squeezing her airways closed.

  She gives me a light peck on the cheek and I stand back to move some papers from the chair next to her so I can sit down.

  I notice that most of them look like credit card statements and doctor bills, a reminder that I need to go through her finances next week and send off her monthly payments.

  Ruth Nadine Jackson Hudson is my dad’s mother. My middle name is Jackson, after her maiden name. The dad who for all intents and purposes is dead to me. The guy who siphoned money from his own parents’ accounts after my granddad’s death and used it in some Ponzi scheme to get rich.

  When that didn’t work, he took off to avoid the law and legal prosecution, leaving me to hold down the fort when I was fifteen.

  My grandma never talks about Dad’s mess with me. But I know she still loves her son, despite how he’s used her. I’d bet dollar to dollar that if he called her up asking for help, she’d give all she could.

  That’s the kind of woman she is and the reason I’m here. To protect the one I love and care for her like she did for me all these years.

  We’re all that we have left in this world and she’s the only one who’s stuck by my side. I’ve tried to do the same for her, even though I feel guilty as hell I’m not doing more. I could have dropped out of school and found a full-time job to help with her financial situation but she wouldn’t hear of it. Wouldn’t listen to reason. She keeps saying it isn’t my burden to take on and I have to live my own life, which in her book means finishing school and playing football.

  I’ve done what she’s asked but I don’t feel good about it. Which is why I took on a part-time job off campus at the hardware store to help pay for necessities. It’s not much and doesn’t leave me much time for parties or social events, or even a girlfriend, but it’s what I need to do.

  You take care of the ones you love and protect them at all costs. No matter the personal costs. My asshat dad certainly didn’t teach me this important life lesson but that doesn’t mean I don’t know it because Nana instilled that moral in me.

  Nana pats my knee in that gentle prodding gesture of hers. “How did practice go today? Are you all ready for the big game on Saturday?”

  I glance at the time on my phone before silencing it and shoving it in my pocket. It’s after five right now and I still have dinner to make, some bills to pay, and laundry to do before I head back to the house I share with my friends. Then I have to book it to the library where I have my first required tutoring session tonight.

  Oh, yeah. That’s another thing forced upon me that I don’t have time for but have no other option but to do.

  I inhale deeply and let out a big sigh. Then I dutifully begin telling my grandmother all the details about my week.

  It’ll be a long night but I’m not going to rush my time with Nana. There’s nothing more important than her.

  It’s just past eight thirty when I get back to my off-campus house and walk upstairs to the room I share with Killian, where I immediately notice Killer’s game-day tie hanging from the doorknob.

  Great. Thanks a lot, bro.

  Killian Palmer, aka Killer, is my best friend, teammate, and roommate. We were paired up as incoming freshmen due to the football roster and our positions on the team, and have ended up practically inseparable for the past 3 years.

  Except on occasions like this, when he brings some chick back to the room to smash.

  I yank the tie from the knob and grumble. We’d made a pact earlier this semester that no girls were allowed over on weeknights. Despite my momentary irritation, it’s not the worst thing in the world. I just need to grab my backpack and laptop from my desk before I head to the library for my nine o’clock appointment with my tutor.

  I shoot Killer a quick text, hoping they are almost done and I can just sneak in and grab my things.

  Me: Yo. I need my bag, bro. Can I come in and get it?

  I notice the three dots appearing on my screen and hear his loud clomping footsteps across the floor, then the door swings open. There before me stands my ginger-blond roommate, hair rumpled, feet and chest bare, and hand covering his junk.

  Smirking, he holds out the backpack toward me.

  “Give me till midnight,” he requests as I snag the b
ag from his fingers. Without waiting for an answer, he shuts the door in my face. I hear his loud stomping feet again, presumably toward his bed, then a girlish giggle and a yelp of laughter.

  “Glad one of us is getting some.”

  It’s not like I feel sorry for myself. Okay, maybe a little. I haven’t been with a girl since this summer, before school started up again. And it doesn’t look promising with the commitments I already have in my life.

  All I know is that, after the conversation Coach had with me this afternoon after practice, the details of which I conveniently left out from my conversation with Nana earlier, I don’t have any room for even casual hookups right now. Coach had sat me down, said he received our mid-semester grade reports from the Admin office, and proceeded to assign me with a tutor.

  Perfect. Now on top of everything else on my plate I need to find time to squeeze two to three hours a week of tutoring into my schedule.

  But if I don’t get my grades up—especially in Microbiology, which I’m on my way to failing—I can kiss both the field and my scholarships for next year goodbye.

  I roll my eyes at the prospect as I leave the house and head out down the block to the library. I try to keep my head low, my baseball cap pulled down over my eyes so when I pass friends and acquaintances along the way, I won’t be noticed. They'll want to stop and chat and I don’t have the time.

  The only problem with this covert operation is that I don’t see the oncoming person soon enough to move out of the way.

  What a shit-tastic way to end my night.

  Chapter Two

  L ucy

  I roll the pen’s cap back and forth over my lower lip as I study the assigned reading for my organic chemistry class. This is the class that everyone in my major talks about with disdain, but I love it.

  What I don’t love is being stood up for my first tutoring session by this guy.

  I glance at the library clock on the wall and let out a disgruntled groan. I never should have scheduled a late-night tutoring session with some jock, but it was a last-minute request and I needed the extra money, so I took the job.

  Now I'm regretting that choice. I start to pack up my things from my study cube, angrily stuffing my books into my backpack and making enough noise to alert someone of my presence back here.

  But the likelihood of that is slim; not many people venture back into this hidden area. Last year, a librarian I’d become friendly with showed me this spot behind old periodical shelves on the top floor of the library. If you peer around them, it just looks like some old desks piled up, but if you manage to scoot behind, you find yourself in a small enclave with four built-in desks, a remnant of the library before it was remodeled.

  It's perfect for tutoring sessions because it's quiet and nobody disturbs us.

  Considering the location, I suppose there's always a chance that my new student may be lost, but I always provide expert directions.

  Still, I consider this possibility as I work my way through the periodicals, on my way down to the main floor, and feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text notification from my older brother, Landon. He’s a firefighter back in our hometown of Rivers Crossing, which is a whopping forty-five minutes away from school. I wanted some freedom when I chose a college, but also to be close enough for family visits.

  Landon: Hope your test goes well this week! Maybe I’ll stop by in a few weeks when I’m out your way to pick up some new special-ordered helmets.

  I smile. My big brother is the best. Always has been.

  Me: Sounds good. And thanks.

  Landon was one of the key reasons I chose to study at Clearview Falls University. That, and the amazing microbiology program. Plus, CFU gave me the best scholarship offer, so here I am.

  My brother likes to tease me, calling me a homebody because, other than going to classes and hanging with my besties Gracie and Kelsie, I’m not very involved at school. I’m not much for parties—unless I’m dragged to them, kicking and screaming, by the girls—or any of the other on-campus social events.

  And team sports? Not in a million years. The noise levels alone produce an overwhelming feeling of being trapped. Not my thing. Not to say I don’t admire the talents of athletes or their dedication to their chosen sport, I just can’t deal with crowds or screaming.

  But when my favorite professor from freshman year asked me to join his tutoring program, I begrudgingly said yes. At the very least, it looks good on my resume and gives me extra spending money.

  Of course, the one student I make an exception for and take on at the last minute is some dumb football player who clearly doesn't know how to tell time or respect someone else’s time. I cringe at my bad luck, hefting up the pile of books in my hands to readjust so I can press the elevator button.

  It just goes to show that I’m invisible to the football players. Always have been, especially the one I’ve had a huge crush on since high school. Joel Henderson would probably walk right by me on campus and totally not know who I am.

  Ugh! I feel my face heat just thinking about him. He was the captain of our high school football team and every girl’s secret crush. I hated myself for liking him. I was just the nerdy science girl with the glasses in the class below him.

  While he broke school records and girls' hearts throughout high school, I was president of the Science Club, treasurer of the Math Club, and one of the set builders for the class plays and school musicals.

  Although not many boys noticed me, I still noticed them. They still had an effect on me. I wasn’t particularly shy or introverted, just anxious around too many people, and I’ve even been told I’m kind of pretty.

  But unfortunately, I get anxious around too many people, and I felt more comfortable hiding my attributes under big bulky hoodies.

  I even dated a guy from the drama club for six months my junior year, but then his dad’s work relocated them to Florida and we broke up. Landon keeps telling me to let loose and live a little, enjoy my college years. He’s not wrong, but my social anxiety is still my worst enemy. It’s why I like my safe space in the back of the library where people can’t see me and vice versa.

  Maybe that’s why this dumb jock didn’t show up. Oh well, his tough luck.

  Reaching the front entrance, I check my watch again and grow more inpatient and anxious by the second as I glance down over the stack of books in my hand. In the emails we exchanged prior to this meet-up, I’d told him exactly where to meet me and stressed the time. My intent was clear. Be on time and don’t waste my time.

  Yet here I am, waiting for him to arrive, me on schedule and him nowhere to be found.

  I tap my foot and, at ten minutes after the hour, I give up. Is he being intentionally rude and disrespectful, or did something happen?

  Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I open up the last message exchange, thinking maybe he messaged me that he was running late. Nope. Nothing. Just his last text:

  See you at nine.

  Feeling stupidly angry and oddly rejected, I practically sprint out of the library in my haste to get back to my dorm room. I hate walking alone at night. Although there’s plenty of light along the walkways to the dorms, and the campus is small and safe, my brother has instilled in me the need to always be cautious of my surroundings, especially when by myself.