"Harper! Oh, it really is you, dear!" The sound of a familiar, motherly female voice rang out behind me.

From where I stood at Section 121B's entrance, I turned my back to the field and mentally braced myself for the first of a most likely repeated reunion that I wasn't entirely prepared for.

"Mrs. H." I forced what I hoped was a polite smile and flicked up my right hand in greeting.

A slightly-larger-than-Ellie-sized, older woman, with more dark brown than gray in her shoulder-length hair waved back halfway down the concourse. The closer she got, her contrasting hair colors highlighted nearly every light strand like fine threads of silver. Her dark brown eyes, framed with thick lashes and doe-shaped just like my best friend, flashed with recognition.

Before Gianna Harrison reached our section, technically hers, a gnarled, sun-spotted hand quivered on my left shoulder. My lips curled upward at the raspy male voice that spoke up behind me, "Angel."

"Earl." I turned around, leaned over, and pressed a soft kiss into his wrinkled right cheek. A wide grin creased the corners of his mouth and blue eyes, which sparkled almost as much as the last afternoon that shone off his bald, spotted head. "Hi handsome."

"You're shameless," he teased and slowly stepped past me.

"You have no idea," I murmured quietly when two arms choked around me and rushed the air out of my lungs.

"Earl!" Mrs. Harrison chirped out. The smooth material of the white USC jersey that swallowed up Jake's mom brushed over my cheek as she clung to me. Before I recovered, her palms gently patted over my lower back. "Need an escort?"

"I'm good but my slow ass should get started," he mumbled and started his slow descent.

"Nonsense, you old goat." Just as quickly as Mrs. Harrison hugged me, she drew backwards and directed her eyes and voice at Earl, "Otherwise I'll miss the first quarter."

"Charming as always." The corners of his eyes cracked as we each took an elbow and guided him to his seat.

He and Mrs. Harrison traded insults each step down, but after we deposited Earl and stepped up to our seats, she pulled back and dragged her eyes up and down my appearance. Her small hands grabbed my upper arms, then dragged down my coat's black leather sleeves.

Instead of the jersey Jake had given me, I'd chosen a simple, Ellie-like pair of gray leggings and white T-shirt. While Li's loud shriek at her jersey from Jake had nearly burst out my ear drums, mine still hung in our tiny wardrobe. I'd considered it for today's game but slipped it overhead and felt awkward.

Even with no name on the back, the rest of it screamed Jake Harrison.

I'd also gone bare minimum on my makeup, just applied a lot of coverup and neutral colors, but felt completely naked as Jake's mom visually scrutinized me. Since I'd pinned my top hair back and left the rest long and straight, every inch of my face felt exposed.

Like she recognized how she continuously inspected me, Mrs. Harrison shook her head, blinked a few times, and lifted her eyes to mine. "Sorry." Her red lips parted into a bright smile. "I told your Dad I'd check up on you."

"Tell him I'm fine." My eyes rolled. "School's good, roommate's good, health is... good. Only person I've had to use my mace on so far was your son."

"Mace?" Mrs. Harrison's grip tightened on my forearms. "On... Jake? Shit, what did he do now?"

When your own mom throws shade... love it.

"Snuck up on me." I lifted my shoulders an inch, then dropped them. "That'll teach him."

"Good lord," was all she responded, with a slight head shake. She finally dropped my arms and our heads moved in unison towards the field, where my eyes took in Jake's number seven as he warmed up.

"Which one?" I pointed at our two designated seats.

"I sit here." Mrs. Harrison pointed to the rightmost chair. "You can have Dale's seat, it's fine."

My eyes blinked a few times as the weight of her words sank in. Before I second-guessed them, I sank down onto the hard plastic. A casual, relaxed atmosphere vibed around the stadium today, like the initial season excitement sunk in and expectations of a third-in-a-row win were raised.

"So..." I coughed a few times and rested the soles of my feet on the seat ahead of mine. "How's Ellie?"

"Still doesn't need me," was Mrs. Harrison's oddly murmured response, like she admitted the words more to herself, but spoke them out of the side of her mouth. I barely heard her from how much shorter she was than me, even seated. "She told me she's considering graduate school."

"Of course she is," I muttered quietly.

For every ounce of effort I put into my studies, although I was proud of myself so far, Ellie probably put in a thousand. While she hadn't told me she considered grad school, no part of me was surprised.

Me though... I'll be happy just to get my certification.

"Are you going to see her?" I asked and watched while the guys who sat and stretched stood up, extra balls were stored away, and all the meatheads headed to their respective locker rooms. "Ellie."

"Maybe once this semester," she noted casually, her chin cupped in her palm and elbow rested on the armrest between our chairs. "You know Ellie, quiet, stubborn, and independent. She's got her own routine with Logan and I'd just be in her way. I also felt awful for missing Jake's last game, so thanks for coming."

Before I unpacked her last words, I focused on what she'd said first. Ellie's relationship with her parents had always been strained under the stupid, unnecessary pressures associated with Jake being the favorite child, but she handled the unfairness better than I would've.

Credit to Ellie's doormat status aside, I might've had more than one motive when I suggested, "Even if she doesn't need you, she might want you to visit."

"I'd like to," Mrs. Harrison admitted with a sigh that expanded her chest. "Maybe I'll call her."

"You should." I nudged her with both my words and closest elbow into her shoulder.

"And even if my stubborn-ass son won't admit he likes you in his life, you should know that he wants you in it," she retorted with a smile. "Harper, you know I've always -"

"Mrs. H," I warned her, leaned back in my seat, and crossed my arms over my chest until my elbows pressed into my thighs. "I can't even say we're just friends right now."

If only she actually knew Jake's only interested in what's between my legs.

Only fair since the feeling's mutual.

Admittedly though, any uncomfortableness from yesterday's round was completely my fault and my eyes drifted back to Jake's tall, broad form on the field. They tracked his movements, completely ignored the way his muscles rippled under his white under Armor shirt, and searched for any fallout signs as he retreated into the locker room.

Like before every game, Jake warmed up without a helmet. The early evening sun had already started to set and cast a few orange tints across his dark hair. The slight stubble that dotted his angular jawline needed to be rubbed between my thighs while his mouth worked me over like it had after he'd fucked my breasts.

For the record, I'd suggested the position because, while I thankfully no longer bled during the period phase of my cycles, I still experienced milder versions of all the other shittier symptoms. My slightly cramped abdomen bloated up until only leggings and yoga pants comfortably fit, my breasts sagged heavier, a fine layer of skin oil coated my nose and chin, and my vagina dried up like I'd poured salt into it.

Not sure what it says about me that Jake still got me off.

If I was honest, at least with myself, I hadn't gotten so aroused from Jake's cock threaded in between the seam of my smooshed up breasts. Only slightly lubricated from his precum, the hot friction that built up as his forward thrusts rolled the insides of my breasts inward as my palms performed a mammogram maneuver on their outsides wasn't what pooled arousal inside me.

No, the sight of Jake's tall, broad form towered over me had turned me on. My mind resurfaced the way his dark eyes burned down at me, the determination that locked his jaw, the locked muscles in his shoulders and biceps that protruded as he suspended his weight over me, how the wide planes of his chest muscles heaved as his breath turned into short, hot pants, and the shine of sweat that broke out on his skin and highlighted how his abdominals crunched and rippled as he did all of the movements.

Completely submissive from how Jake pinned me down and used me for his own selfish pleasure, after he came, I was borderline terrified at how excited my body felt. From my navel down towards my damn uterus warmed, then cramped slightly from an intense amount of pent up pressure and tension that had nothing to do with my monthly cycles.

Jake was right and my ego burned just as I admitted that to myself. He was more than a toy, the raw, primal desire that oozed out of him, desire for me, still seared in my mind's eye. His combination of want and take still pulsed my core area like he'd smashed a wrecking ball through my vagina's construction site.

Fuck, it was like he pumped arousal straight into me with his cock.

While I hadn't expected the oral favor. Every lick of his tongue, suck from his lips, and stroke from his fingers felt like a stick poked into my inner turmoil bear trap until I completely snapped and the cramps subsided with my dignity.

Don't get me started on the shower.

Probably also best I don't recall this while his mom is right next to me.

At the loud cough I choked out, Mrs. Harrison just threw me an amused smile, but thankfully just nodded and sat silently. I exhaled sharply at the sense that we headed into what I feared was the longest interrogation - I mean game - of my life.

As I'd expected, the more the one-sided USC game progressed, Jake's mom peppered me with questions about any and every detail of my life. Not that much had changed in three weeks but I told her about the paralegal program. While my paralegal class made this semester the first one where I hadn't completely hated school, I still preferred that every hair was threaded off my body than continued school for a few more years.

Sarcasm aside, I looked forward to when I was done with school, reflected by how I paused at the job posting bulletin for LA-based attorneys. Now that my foggy brain felt crystal clear, the multiple pages of job openings that fluttered every time I flipped the stack open was the only motivation I needed for homework and studying for our weekly quizzes.

Right now though, I avoided any and all talk about football with Mrs. Harrison except the game that unfolded ahead of us. I knew enough about Jake's grind-it-out snooze-fest style of play but today he'd put on a fancier offensive approach. Like I searched for a distraction, my eyes were glued to number seven's presence on the field during most of the conversations I had with his mom.

My entire head snapped sideways when Mrs. Harrison asked, "Have you seen much of Kieran? He's at UCLA."

"Yeah," I grunted quietly and shifted my gaze back to the field, where Jake tossed a long, deep pass to one of his receivers. Thankfully, the moment offered a much-needed reprieve, as both of us stood on our feet and cheered when the receiver ran into the endzone.

Pretty sure she wasn't asking if I've seen him naked, which was weird before but now Li can have Meade's UPS package.

As the game progressed into the second half with no letup from USC in their determined beatdown of Notre Dame, I sung Li's praises as much as I could and asked one boring question after another about Mrs. Harrison's catering start-up with her sister.

Ellie's the one who should be talking about cooking. I can't microwave my way out of a cardboard box.

Personally, I'd had enough of Ellie's crazy extended family one Thanksgiving dinner that she'd brought me to when we were sixteen. Dad worked over the holiday weekend, but home alone with Netflix would've been more enjoyable than how I'd gotten confused for Ellie's girlfriend by eighty cousins named Anthony. Once we cleared away the lesbian confusion, one particular Antony then hit on me relentlessly.

Still can't tell any of them apart.

At the sad, wistful look that cast over Mrs. H's eyes, I prompted, "What?"

"It's... a lot," she confessed quietly. "I'm glad for the occasional distractions but I'm still working in Santa Cruz, taking care of the house, driving to Palo Alto on weekends sandwiched around when I come here, so it's..."

"Exhausting," I filled in for her and leaned back in my seat. For the first time today, I noticed the puffiness under her eyes, beneath her layers of perfectly applied concealer.

Mrs. Harrison had been the woman whose jewelry and makeup stash I raided when I was thirteen. Ellie couldn't have cared less but Sephora and Ulta knew both her mom's and my names equally well.

"Do you want to do the catering thing?" I studied her expression for a reaction.

A slight sparkle that popped into her eyes answered my question before she spoke, but was quickly replaced by the hesitancy in her voice, "It's just getting started. Maria handles most of the events, I just help give menu suggestions, trade recipes, and pitch in extra hands on Friday nights and Sundays when I can."

"Sooo..." I dragged out the 'oh' sound, read between the words she said, and filled in what she actually meant. "Take the plunge."

"I'm... not quite ready yet," she admitted quietly as her eyes tracked Jake's movements as he sat down on the bleachers. Once he removed his helmet, his eyes shifted over his shoulder in our direction, so I shot him a much-needed middle finger and got a grin back in return.

"Probably not until the kids are done with school," Mrs. Harrison's admission snapped my attention off her son.

"You can move in with Dad," I deadpanned dryly. "Even though living with him is not much different from living alone."

While I meant the comment as a joke, the frown that creased her forehead showed she hadn't taken it that way. "I always gave him a hard time for that."

One of her hands patted my left shoulder and my stomach hardened when she gave me a look full of sympathy, like I was a wounded animal she'd rescued. She'd never held back that opinion from Dad, which had soured the more time that separated today from when we'd become a family of two.

"Mrs. H. -" I warned her because this type of statement always led towards -

"Don't get me wrong," she went right where I hadn't wanted her to go. "David did admirably as a single father providing for you but he should've been home more."

I swallowed hard and waved my hand at the field, where USC lined up for a field goal in a much-needed diversion off family-feelings alley. "It's not like I ever did anything like this -"

"Still..." Mrs. Harrison's voice turned ice cold, which matched the hardened look in her eyes and tightly clenched mouth. "If I ever see Vanessa again, I'll -"

Fuck, she had to go there. Fucking name drop.

I drew in a sharp breath at the mention of my womb donor's name because that's all my biological mom was to me anymore, a biological link of DNA passed from one entity onto another.

Curse really. Wish I looked nothing like her.

By the way Mrs. Harrison quickly added, "I'm sorry," I couldn't have imagined what my expression looked like. With each breath, I bottled up the surge of emotions that swelled inside of me at the mention of that subject, then promptly ignored them as usual.

Thankfully, she sensed the way my spine straightened like she'd yanked a cord through it and a sparkle appeared in her eyes again. A knowing smile played on her lips when she digressed, "If your dad moves in with someone, it sure won't be me."

"Grace." I exhaled her name sharply with a breath I hadn't realized I held in, but my lips curled up into a smile that softened the tension that strained my forehead.

"Possibly," she mused, one hand cupped on her chin and elbow balanced on her knee. "Hopefully."

"You ship," I stated, not asked, with a slightly arched eyebrow.

Mrs. Harrison turned her head in my direction and shot me two dark brown eyes full of sympathy. "With as many years as your dad's been guarded and alone, I ship."

Ouch.

Before I actually agreed, she snuffed out any puff of happiness I felt with that diversion when she added, "Not the only -"

"Nope." My head shook so fast, my view of the field blurred into a fuzz of green and white. "With all due respect -"

"I know, your Dad mentioned you don't want a relationship," she casually settled back in her seat with that revelation tossed in my direction.

What the fuck -

"All I want as a mom is that my kids are happy, that they have the right, solid people around them," Mrs. Harrison admitted quietly as I mentally stewed over the idea Dad discussed my personal life with, well, anyone but Jake's mom in particular.

Thankfully, she continued, "And for Jake, selfishly I want someone who knows his past but isn't scared of it or unfairly judges his mistakes. Someone who won't take advantage of him for present or future personal gain."

Probably safe to guess she wasn't a fan of Bambi.

If she even met her, knowing dick for brains.

Right as my vagina pulsed a traitorous heartbeat at the words 'take advantage of him,' my mind followed in the same dirty direction. With a few rapid eye blinks, I snapped it back just as quickly as a few suggestive images flooded into my mind.

Beyond inappropriate. Fuck, I hate my own thoughts sometimes.

Mrs. Harrison rammed the final nail into the coffin when she finished with a bright smile, "And let's just say seeing right through Jake's bullshit, calling him out on it, and putting him in the right place is icing on the cake."

That's just -

Just -

Punching below the girl code belt.

With a slow steady breath, the cruel reality of all that Jake and I were, fuck buddies with out the friendship component, resurfaced in my consciousness. The sobering reality of our charade, which Mrs. Harrison would've bought into as a real, true relationship that she not only approved of but favored, ripped right through me like I'd been stabbed.

A tightness coiled in my chest and my voice sounded more strained than I was comfortable with when I started, "And you really think -"

"Oh my gosh!" A girly, high-pitched voice squealed out from behind us. "Gosh gosh gosh, are you Jake's mom!?"

Oh for fuck's sake. A mom-chaser, now?

Seriously? Where was she the majority of the game?

With a polite smile that masked the slight flash of irritation I caught in Mrs. H's eyes before she fully turned around, I bit back my own smile. In a cool, even tone, she asked the pair of white and pink Nikes that stopped right behind our shoulder-level on the row above us.

My eyes trailed upwards, over a pair of very tanned, unnaturally tanned, legs, which curved up towards the shortest -

Fuck, I did not just see her ladybits.

With a slight lean back, all I saw was a thin waist, giant boobs, and long, straight blonde hair. It was pulled into two ponytails that annoyingly flicked as her moon balloons jiggled while she shifted her weight from side to side. The number seven jersey came to the same length as a black skirt I wished I hadn't inadvertently looked up showed exactly what her intentions were.

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Harrison," Jake's mom used a more than kind voice, given the way Blondie now twirled one of her ponytails around her French nails and giggled like somehow an introduction is funny, then thrust one hand into Mrs. Harrison's.

"Bianca," she squealed out slightly with another giggle that eroded my ears like acid.

Mrs. Harrison stifled a smile at the for sure annoyed look I now wore because, for fuck's sake, not all blondes were bimbos. Unfortunately, with the vacant look in her blue eyes and endless giggles, she wasn't helping our cause.

I swear half of them aren't naturally blonde.

"Good luck with this one," I muttered and turned my back on whoever this flake was.

Mrs. Harrison however, was blessed with much nicer manners than me. Out of my peripheral vision, she smiled politely, shook Bianca's hand, and offered an equally polite, "Nice to meet you. Thanks for supporting Jake by wearing his number."

"Oh my gosh, are you for real kidding!?" Binky chirped out behind me and I fought the urge that I clamped both palms over my ears. Soft scuffs behind me showed that she now hopped from one foot to the other and tugged on the hem of her jersey. "I'm such a fan of Jake, do you think -"

"Oh my gosh," Mrs. Harrison echoed with a glint in her eyes that none of me trusted. "Where are my manners? This is Harper..."

Like an incoming traffic accident, or perhaps train derailment, moved in slow motion, Mrs. Harrison's mouth outlined the most horrific two words in the English language.

"...Jake's girlfriend."

Bianca stuttered, literally on her shuffled feet and with her words when she squeaked out, "Girlfriend? Jake? Oh shit! I'm so sorry, I was coming over to give your boyfriend -" my shoulders curled inward at those words - "my phone number. So not girl code, sorry."

While Mrs. Harrison waved goodbye to Bianca, I just sat completely still, my jaw practically unhinged from how quickly it had dropped open. The corners of my eyes dried out from how long I stretched them open as far as they went.

She did not just... fuck, she did.

The longer we sat in silence, the more my hips squirmed in my seat. My forearms and thighs crawled with a tingling sensation like ants marched up them and my mouth, still hung open, dried out until my tongue was parched.

"Muh-Mrs. Harrison," I started in an unusually shaky voice, which reflected how the palms of my hands were now damp.

A warm palm cupped under my chin and pushed it upwards until my mouth snapped shut. Before I responded, of the two dark brown eyes that now gleamed at me, one of them closed in a wink.

A horrified realization froze my spine as my back hit my seat.

He told her.

I gnashed my teeth as my thoughts circled one intention like water in a hair clogged drain.

I will kill him.

I will literally string his ass up by his balls.

No, I'll cut off his balls first, then ram them down his throat.

No, I'll cut off his balls, ram them down this throat, then peg his ass with a cactus.

While similar, sexually-murderous thoughts flowed through my head, I masked what I hoped looked like a polite enough expression given I was still in public, surrounded by hundreds of Jake-worshippers. In reality, I must have worn my resting bitch face, given the way fans jumped out of my exit path and around me on the Colesium's concourse.

The small inferno that blazed inside me, ignited by the simple, innocent hint from Jake's mom that she knew, well assumed, we were -

Fuck, I can't even think it. Back to my anger.

At one point on my solo drive from the stadium to the restaurant's address Jake had texted me, I contemplated the better idea that I headed straight back to my dorm room at UCLA and promptly burned seven particular posters that adorned the walls.

I might be past cleansing burning rituals at this point. I could go to the beach.

Fuck, I'd even sit through an accounting class.

Or double fuck with herpes on the side, go to UCLA's football house party and take Ethan up on the offer to fuck Jake over.

How. Dare. He!?

"That was the fastest win he's ever gotten," Mrs. Harrison cooed at Jake's frame on the field as he trotted off the field after another touchdown pass.. "So proud of him."

She was right; Jake ran his usual little-to-no huddle offense, but he'd played flashier than normal compared to the game I'd seen him in. I wasn't sure why but the way he moved around in the pocket had been more interesting to watch. He wasn't the bottled up lightning speed Logan was but he still had some moves.

The way Jake had looked at me after every time he'd scored, once he reached the sideline bench, hadn't escaped me either.

Or the looks his mom shot me after every one too... followed by the third degree line of questioning.

By the end of the first quarter, I was nearly out of alternative wordings of "No," but Mrs. Harrison still pressed me about Jake. Why she had such an invested interest, I wasn't sure. Her circular line of questions had gotten old before halftime, so by the time three minutes read on the fourth quarter game clock, I was beyond over with the verbal cattle prods.

She should visit Ellie more, at least for my sake. I can't sit through three more games like this.

Thankfully, Jake's next game was away, at Utah. By no stretch of anyone's imagination why, I was extremely aware that his next two games were at home, of which game 5 was against the University of Washington. For the first time since high school, which was no coincidence either, part of me dreaded seeing my best friend.

Mom judgments and shipping a non-existent romantic relationship aside, the only reason I hadn't come clean to Mrs. Harrison was because she would've told Ellie. Ellie deserved the truth, straight from my mouth but with as much detail omitted for her benefit as much as mine.

And not from her mom, two weeks' prior to when she sees me. That's too much overthinking time in Ellie's world.

Fuck, telling her will be so painful.

Mrs. H is still worse than a lie detector test... or a root canal.

The game paused near the end when one of USC's offensive players, announced as Zach Miller, was injured. I vaguely placed his name from his girlfriend's introduction at practice.

WAGs, what a fucking joke. Jersey chasers is more like it, which is why I am not going there again.

Jake's worshiped status aside, I was also painfully aware of how well-known his mom was in the stadium, to the point where ESPN's sideline reporter recognized and interviewed her in the concourse hallway after the game ended. Thankfully, the blonde-haired, bitchy reporter I recognized as Rachel Sorenson ate up Mrs. Harrison's gushed words over her son's performance while she ignored my existence. And my feet moved me closer to an outside wall faster than if I'd been chased by a rabid bear when a portable camera was shoved in our direction.

Probably best they don't witness me punching her right in the tit and seeing if it pops because that's all that bitch deserves.

Thankfully, Rachel only shot me a silent look of recognition then the fakest flash of white teeth I'd ever seen. I, on the other hand, channeled every ounce of resting bitch face I had left, which had been considerably drained from my close proximity to Mrs. H during the whole game, and tossed it in Rachel's direction.

Hope you slip and fall on a pickaxe through the vagina, bitch.

"Give my best regards to Jake, Mrs. Harrison," Rachel practically cooed and batted her eyelashes. On the surface, I'm sure her fitted navy blue suit, obviously-for-television caked on level of makeup, and gleaming blonde hair cut blunt at her shoulders looked polished and put together. Internally though, my mind went in a slightly different direction.

Just another sad example of why the blonde gene pool needs a lifeguard.

With one last fakeass smile in my direction and big enough lady balls that her arms reached out and hugged Mrs. Harrison gently, Rachel's heels finally clicked in the opposite direction. I hadn't realized how tightly my fingers gripped into my arms until a soft hand rested over my right hand on my left arm.

"Careful, you look like you'll crack a tooth," Mrs. Harrison joked but dropped her polite persona as annoyance flickered in her eyes. They shifted slightly in my direction the moment I relaxed my jaw, which I also hadn't realized how tightly I'd clenched it shut until my cheeks relaxed.

"Remember what I said about not wanting an opportunist?" she murmured quietly as her eyes tracked Rachel's disappearance around the concourse curve.

How could I forget? Practically painted a heart-shaped target on me.

Mrs. Harison's eyes held an unspoken response by the way they now gleamed at me, like two small pools of dark chocolate had been poured into her irises. I ignored the intensity in those dark irises, identical to both Jake and Ellie's, and offered the most polite smile my angry ass mustered at this point.

Internally though, I had one train of thought in mind.

Two can play the info game, Jake.

And this one you'll lose.