Single And In Love With My Fake Boyfriend (Single Girls Club #1)

Chapter Two

Lincoln

My eyes linger on the woman who just crashed into me and ran off. Why does she look so familiar? She can’t be someone I dated because I haven’t been serious with a girl for quite some time. I’ve been busy with football and honestly? I’m looking for that special person. I don’t want to date around. My teammates don’t understand why I don’t have fun with girls like they do. I suppose it’s because of my parents. They have a loving relationship and I’d like to have that one day, too.

“Linc, what the heck?” Jett pokes his elbow into my rib. “Why are you just standing there?”

“That girl…” I shake my head, pushing her out of my mind. “Never mind.” Maybe she just has one of those faces?

My other teammates, Chris and Jason, lead Jett and me to a table in the back of Spring Falls Gardens. As we walk past the diners, I can’t help noticing many of the women straightening up in their seats, some waving, most smiling.

Right. How could I forget about the article that was published in Celebrity Vibe , a very popular magazine?

I was named the most eligible bachelor of the year. While I’m honored, it’s a bit too much for me to handle.

“Check out all the hot girls staring at you,” Jason says to me.

I smile and wave to them as we pass. Yes, they’re all beautiful and I’m sure they’re nice women, but I’m not exactly comfortable with anyone throwing themselves at me.

“Go on, get their numbers,” Chris urges me as we sit down.

I shake my head. “You know how I feel about this.”

The guys roll their eyes at one another. “You’re not in some fairytale and won’t find your princess.” Jett snorts. “When women throw themselves at me, I grab every opportunity.” He wiggles his brows.

I playfully shove him. “These women don’t even know me,” I say, making sure to keep my voice down so they won’t overhear. “Would any of them even look at me if I wasn’t the quarterback for the Atlanta Armadillos?”

“Come on, dude.” Chris groans. “We’re young, hot football players. That’s on the top of most girls’ lists. You’ve got it all, man. The looks, the skill—why not take advantage of all that?”

I sigh. “It just isn’t me.”

“He’s too humble for his own good,” Jason says to the others. “Let’s lay off him.”

Chris and Jett shrug.

A server rushes over to us, keeping her eyes mostly on me as she asks us for our order. Her nametag says Ella, and her smile is wide as she lists the specials and her recommendations. I’m not familiar with this restaurant since I don’t come here often. While my parents didn’t struggle financially, we didn’t have the luxury to splurge on fancy restaurants. The only reason I made it to the NFL was because of hard work and a football scholarship to one of the top colleges.

“Thank you, Ella,” I say to the server after we order.

Her grin widens. “Thank you, Lincoln, for gracing us with your wonderful presence.” She giggles. “Can we take a selfie?”

“Sure.” I get to my feet and smile as she shoves her phone in our faces.

“Thank—” She doesn’t manage to finish her sentence as a stampede of women rush to my side, each demanding a selfie as well.

It takes a while, but I manage to take pictures with everyone who wishes. Eventually, I settle down on my chair with my food and try to smile at the people still watching me. I love my fans. I love that others—especially young kids—are inspired by me. But when it comes to romance and relationships? I’d like that to be private. Something sacred shared between me and the special woman who has yet to drop into my life.

“If you won’t get their numbers, I will,” Jett tells me.

I wave my hand. “Go for it.”

He’s on his feet, dashing over to a table of four women who haven’t taken their gazes off us. While some look disappointed that he ran to them and not me, they still add their numbers to his phone. I hear one tell him, “Pass it over to Lincoln.”

My eyes drop to my mostly-empty plate. Am I wrong for waiting for my special girl? Should I have fun and date around like my friends do?

Once Jett has racked up enough numbers to keep him busy for a while, the guys and I finish eating and decide to head out.

“You’re so sexy, Lincoln!” A woman grabs my hand as I pass her table. “Marry me. Please marry me!”

“You’re already married, Gia! He’s mine!”

Gia still clutches my hand. “I’d divorce my husband in a heartbeat.”

Smiling pleasantly, I pull my hand free. “Excuse me.”

Many others grab my hands or other parts of my body as the guys and I make our way to the exit. I run my hand through my light brown hair, puffing out my cheeks. I’ve gotten used to being in the spotlight, but not like this. I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave my house without a disguise now. Maybe things will die down soon?

Will I ever be able to live a normal life again?

“See you guys later,” I tell my teammates before getting in my car. As soon as I turn on the radio, I hear someone talking about Lincoln Walker being named the most eligible bachelor of the year. And she has people call in, talking about the first time they saw me in a game or a commercial or interview and how happy it made them. One parent tells her how his son wants to be just like me when he grows up. That makes me smile.

“But why is he still single?” a woman caller asks, voice rising in panic. “I mean, he’s the hottest, hottest guy on the planet. And he hasn’t been with anyone in forever! ”

She and the radio host try to come up with different reasons—I’m too busy, too shy, the women aren’t good enough, and so on. I change the station to music and bob my head to the beat.

For some strange reason, my thoughts drift to the woman who crashed into me earlier tonight. The more I think about it, the more I realize she doesn’t have one of those faces. I know her from somewhere. Why does it bother me that I can’t remember where I’ve seen her?

When I come home, I get comfortable on my bed and scroll through my social media. My inbox is overloaded with messages from women. My followers have quadrupled in only a few hours. Photos of me without a shirt, some with me all sweaty after a game, are circling around. They have many, many likes and comments.

Sighing, I toss my phone aside and watch a football game on TV.