Chapter 4 A Problem Money Couldn't Fix

• Charles Harrison's POV
• The problem with winning was that everyone wanted a piece of you afterward.
• Reporters.
• Sponsors.
• Fans.
• Former classmates who suddenly remembered your name.
• By midnight, I was exhausted.
• By one in the morning, I was irritated.
• And by the time I got back to my apartment, there was only one thing I wanted.
• Sleep.
• Unfortunately, life had other plans.
• My phone rang the second I walked through the door.
• Victor.
• Of course.
• I stared at the screen for three rings before answering.
• "What now?"
• "Good evening to you too."
• "It's one in the morning."
• "I know."
• "Normal people sleep at one in the morning."
• "Good thing neither of us are normal."
• I dropped onto the couch and rubbed my face.
• "What happened?"
• A pause.
• The kind of pause that usually meant I wasn't going to like what came next.
• "Our sponsors want a meeting."
• I groaned.
• "No."
• "Yes."
• "I hate meetings."
• "I know."
• "I hate sponsors."
• "I know."
• "I especially hate sponsors who schedule meetings before breakfast."
• Victor ignored me.
• "We need to talk about your image."
• There it was again.
• Image.
• The word had followed me for months.
• Charles Harrison's image.
• Charles Harrison's reputation.
• Charles Harrison's marketability.
• Sometimes I wondered if anyone remembered I was a basketball player.
• "I'm not doing anything wrong."
• Victor laughed.
• Actually laughed.
• "That's your defense?"
• "It's true."
• "Charles."
• "What?"
• "You got into an argument with a reporter three weeks ago."
• "He deserved it."
• "You posted a video racing Paul."
• "We were bored."
• "You skipped an interview."
• "I forgot."
• "You climbed onto a stadium roof."
• I sat up.
• "That was one time."
• "It was last month."
• "Still one time."
• Victor sighed heavily.
• The sound carried years of disappointment.
• "You don't understand."
• "Then explain it."
• "The sponsors love your talent."
• "Good."
• "They love your popularity."
• "Excellent."
• "They do not love unpredictability."
• I frowned.
• "So what are they saying?"
• Another pause.
• "They think you need stability."
• I blinked.
• "What does that even mean?"
• "It means they think people would take you more seriously if you looked settled."
• A bad feeling crept into my stomach.
• "Victor."
• "Yes?"
• "What exactly are you trying to say?"
• His answer came far too quickly.
• "A girlfriend."
• I nearly dropped my phone.
• "A what?"
• "A girlfriend."
• I stood up immediately.
• "Charles—"
• "No."
• "Listen first."
• "I've heard enough."
• "A fake one."
• That stopped me.
• Silence filled the apartment.
• Then I laughed.
• Loudly.
• For a long time.
• Victor did not join me.
• Which made it even funnier.
• "You can't be serious."
• "I'm completely serious."
• "Your solution is a fake girlfriend?"
• "It's not my solution."
• "It's ridiculous."
• "It's effective."
• I continued laughing.
• Somewhere along the line, people had forgotten basketball was supposed to be about basketball.
• Apparently now it was about public relationships too.
• "I am not fake dating somebody."
• Victor remained calm.
• "Then give me a real girlfriend."
• I opened my mouth.
• Closed it.
• Opened it again.
• Nothing came out.
• "Exactly."
• I hated when he did that.
• "Goodnight, Victor."
• I ended the call before he could continue.
• Then I threw my phone onto the couch.
• A fake girlfriend.
• Unbelievable.
• Absolutely ridiculous.
• Completely insane.
• The idea should have disappeared from my mind immediately.
• Instead, it followed me all the way into the shower.
• Then into bed.
• Then into the next morning.
• I hated that.
• Almost as much as I hated the fact that every time I thought about the idea, one face kept appearing.
• Juliet Morgan.
• I groaned into my pillow.
• This was getting ridiculous.
• I'd spoken to her once.
• One conversation.
• That's all.
• Yet somehow she kept invading my thoughts.
• The way she'd challenged me without hesitation.
• The way she hadn't seemed impressed by my reputation.
• The way she looked at me like I was just another student.
• Nobody looked at me like that anymore.
• Not teammates.
• Not reporters.
• Not fans.
• Not sponsors.
• Everyone saw Charles Harrison.
• The basketball star.
• The future professional athlete.
• The headline.
• The brand.
• Juliet had looked at me like I was just a guy standing in a kitchen.
• And somehow that felt better than every compliment I'd received all year.
• My phone buzzed.
• A text from Paul.
• You alive?
• Barely.
• Meet me at practice.
• Why?
• Because Coach will kill us if we're late.
• Good point.
• I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the gym.
• The moment I stepped onto the court, Coach started shouting.
• Everything felt normal again.
• Practice drills.
• Conditioning.
• Scrimmages.
• Film review.
• For two glorious hours, nobody mentioned girlfriends.
• Then practice ended.
• And Victor appeared.
• I immediately knew my peace was over.
• "Tell me you're not here for what I think you're here for."
• "I'm here for exactly what you think I'm here for."
• I grabbed a towel.
• "Go away."
• "No."
• "Please."
• "No."
• I sighed.
• Victor smiled.
• That smile meant trouble.
• "The sponsors are serious."
• "So am I."
• "You need a solution."
• "I'll score more points."
• "That's not how this works."
• "It should be."
• He handed me a folder.
• I frowned.
• "What is this?"
• "Research."
• "I hate that word."
• "Open it."
• Reluctantly, I did.
• Inside were articles.
• Public opinions.
• Marketing reports.
• Fan engagement statistics.
• Relationship headlines.
• I stared at the pages.
• Then at him.
• Then back at the pages.
• "This is insane."
• "Welcome to modern sports."
• I hated every second of this.
• Then something caught my eye.
• One report highlighted a specific point.
• Fans responded best when relationships appeared genuine.
• Not flashy.
• Not forced.
• Authentic.
• Believable.
• Real.
• I froze.
• Victor noticed immediately.
• "What?"
• Nothing.
• At least nothing I wanted to admit.
• Because for the first time, my mind wasn't rejecting the idea.
• It was analyzing it.
• And every time I thought about believable...
• I thought about Juliet.
• Not because she was interested in me.
• If anything, she seemed determined not to be.
• Not because she wanted attention.
• She clearly didn't.
• Not because she chased fame.
• She avoided it.
• Which was exactly why people would believe it.
• The realization hit me hard.
• Hard enough to make me stop turning the page.
• Hard enough to make my pulse quicken.
• Hard enough to make me hate where my thoughts were going.
• Victor narrowed his eyes.
• "Charles."
• I looked up.
• "What?"
• A slow smile spread across his face.
• The kind that made me instantly suspicious.
• "You just thought of someone."
• Damn it.
• I should've hidden that better.
• "Maybe."
• His grin widened.
• "Who is she?"
• I didn't answer.
• Because answering would make this real.
• And if this became real, there was only one problem.
• Juliet Morgan didn't seem like the kind of girl who would agree to something like this.
• Not for money.
• Not for fame.
• Not for me.
• Which meant convincing her might be the hardest game I'd ever played.
• For the first time in my life, I wasn't worried about winning a championship.
• I was worried about getting one stubborn medical student to say yes.