Megan didn't appreciate my interruption, but after the victory she had achieved over her friend, her mood was good enough to let that slide. "Sure," she said, and threw one last grin to her friend before she grabbed my arm and dragged me into the pool, once again showing the prickier aspect of her personality.

Admittedly, it didn't seem too smart to antagonize the person that was about to record us and leak our photos to the public, but I didn't vocalize that particular thought.

It wasn't my problem.

Instead, I slipped in the water, then turned to watch as Megan followed. The sight of her beautiful body slowly sinking into the water was a great pleasure. Her combative personality and her obsession with fame made her difficult to deal with, it certainly didn't detract any from her spectacular beauty.

Watching her as she slowly submerged into the shimmering water of the pool, her smooth skin slowly getting drenched, her movements, no matter how careful, challenged her skimpy swimsuit's ability to keep her body covered — even for the already-generous definition of the word coverage that could be applied to her swimsuit in the first place.

"So, what's the idea," I said the moment she slipped into the water, wrapping my arm around her waist in the process, pulling her closer to me.

If I was going to pose as her boyfriend, I was going to enjoy the benefits.

"We're going to give them a show, of course," Megan said, not doing anything to extract herself from my arm. "But first, we need to look like we had been swimming." And, just like that, she put her hands on my shoulders, and pushed me into the water, weaponizing our closeness for her nefarious aims.

Resisting was not impossible, of course. As far as tackles went, hers wasn't exactly devastating, but there was no harm in giving her a little victory.

Especially when it gave me a chance to retaliate.

I pulled up, making a show of coughing and spluttering, much to Megan's amusement. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Kim snickering as well, which was a beautiful sight, giving me a nice feeling about our supposed date.

"So, that's how you want to play," I said, growling playfully.

Megan's snickers turned a fearful gasp when she found herself being lifted bridal style. "Don't you dare, you'll ruin my hair —" she growled. Her tone was confident, like she was absolutely sure that I would follow her order even after she pushed me into the water.

That thought didn't last long, dying in a spectacular explosion of droplets as I threw her into the water.

As she spluttered herself back to the surface, I wasn't the only one audibly chuckling, though, I noticed Kim pressing the screen of her phone passionately. I caught her eye. "It's for the blackmail folder," she smirked.

I was tempted to answer her, but when Megan pulled to the surface. Despite the anger on her face, it was a beautiful sight. Her body glistened, her blonde hair sticking to her shoulders, adding another layer of attraction.

Even her top was dislodged a bit, giving a glimpse of one of her rosy areolas. Pity they were still in place. They were more stable than their flimsy look suggested.

"I'll kill you," she growled.

"Go ahead, but what would people say if they learn you're strong enough to kill your football player boyfriend."

"He's got you there, sweetie," Kim interrupted with a laugh. "And imagine if they learn that you're an illegal racer as well."

And just like that, I learned another interesting thing about Megan, not that it shocked me too much. I had seen her drive with surprising proficiency. Together with her fancy car, I didn't have any trouble imagining her on a dark road, racing with other rich kids for reputation.

Yet, Megan didn't appreciate her friend's sudden alliance with me, nor did she appreciate the accidental slip. "Shut your mouth," she said to her friend. Someone else might have reacted to Megan's attitude negatively, but Kim just chuckled, suggesting that she was used to Megan's attitude.

Megan turned me. "If you do it again…" she warned.

"Whatever you wish, sweetheart," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"You're going to delay us another half an hour," she added as she started moving toward the edge of the pool, but I grabbed her waist and pulled back. "What are you doing?"

"Are you sure you want to pose with perfect hair," I suggested? "It'll certainly look better, but do you really want to give your opponents an excuse to say the photos are staged."

"They are not that smart," Megan stated.

"If you want to take a bet of that," I said as I loosened my grip around her waist, but she didn't go forward, suggesting I managed to convince her. She didn't thank me, of course, as she clearly lacked the ability to show appreciation without being forced. "What's the plan for this show, then?" I followed.

"Nothing too extreme," she said. "We're going to put on a show like we're getting frisky in the pool. A few shots that look like we're having fun underwater, maybe a couple of candid ones on the corner of the pool, suggestive enough to let the imagination run wild."

"Isn't it a bit extreme?" I asked, surprised by the ploy. "I thought you were trying to create a more wholesome image."

"That was the idea," she growled. "But not all plans are as solid as I hoped."

I wasn't shocked at the vehemence of her tone because I understood the source. Creating an image was difficult, especially one that was distinct enough to be leveraged as a public figure. I had no idea what Megan's ultimate objective for her popularity was, but it was clear that a reputation for being frigid or limited bedroom performance was not a part of it.

However, what surprised me more was the intensity of her dedication. She seemed very determined to kill the rumors before they could get established, showing a strategic mind and a killer instinct at the same time.

She would have made a good chess player if she had the time and was willing to dedicate herself.

Ultimately, however, she didn't explain her reasons, and I didn't bother digging for them. Her situation seemed interesting, but I had my own, much bigger, problems to focus on.

Luckily, I didn't need to know her exact objective to help her shed such a reputation. It was certainly not a chore, I determined even as my gaze drifted down, enjoying the sight of her barely covered body.

Kim interrupted my gaze. "Start swimming around her," she ordered. "We should get a few simple shots at first to set the mood and make it more convincing, a few cozy pictures wouldn't hurt in the mix to better sell your relationship."

I followed her request, and started circling around Megan, whose annoyance about the earlier dunk had yet to fade away. So, I did the only reasonable thing, and deliberately hit my strides harder, splashing some more water on her face.

"What are you doing!" Megan growled in anger, which contrasted with Kim's growing smile.

"Keep it going," she ordered. "It's good to have a few domestic shots, it'll help us sell the romance between you two. It'll make the eventual breakup even more impactful." The explanation was certainly convincing, but her vindictive smile suggested that her orders might be more about the date that had been forced on by Megan than the strategic necessity of such photos.

Such a complicated friendship.

"Do we really need it?" Megan murmured. "Are you sure leaning to the domestic is a good idea when we're going to break up this Sunday? Wouldn't it work worse?"

"Not if you don't want the others commenting whether your relationship was fake all along. You know we need to sell the breakup more convincingly," Kim answered.

"By the way—" I started, interrupting myself with another splash when Megan turned to me, earning another angry growl. "What's the exact story for the breakup?" I asked, making sure my tone was serious despite my previous actions, Intimidation trait worked wonders to help me convey my seriousness without any explicit threat.

And despite her bitchy attitude, Megan was smart enough to understand the nature of the question. "Nothing too scandalous," she answered. "We're going to have a fight after the game, and after a loss, I'll publicly try to convince you that it's a waste of time to spend your time in our football team after another horrible loss, you're going to react badly to the suggestion of betraying your teammates, we'll let the fight escalate without getting too personal, and break up, and later the night, you can let those enthusiastic cheerleaders to nurse you back to life after your sad breakup."

"Sounds simple enough," I answered. It was a simple yet smart plan, framing our relationship as a rebound, while positioning the game as a breakup reason allowed us not to be a villain.

Of course, the whole plan relied on the team getting another loss, but that was more or less a given. The offense was a mess, and even though the defense was in a better condition, football had an interesting quirk.

If the offense caused too many turnovers, it would result in the defense staying on the field for too long, which in turn exhausted the defense.

Playing was more exhausting for the defense for two reasons. First, most teams had more offense players to ensure a wider range of attack options. Second, and more importantly, the offense knew what exactly was going to be the play, allowing the offense not to exhaust themselves unnecessarily.

On the contrary, the defensive players had to respond with their full power every play, exhausting them much better in the process. It wasn't a problem in a balanced, normal game, but with an incompetently-coached, mistake-prone offense like our team had, disaster was inevitable.

"That sounds like a plan," I murmured.

"Enough talking," Kim interrupted. "We still have a lot of work to do, start posing. Start getting frisky."