Do Not Fall For The Baseball Captains (Victoria and Elijah) novel Chapter 189

Operation Fake Boyfriend

Adele’s POV

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I scoffed, tossing a small throw pillow right at his chest.

“Miles, this isn’t a fucking joke! My career is literally on the line!”

He caught the pillow effortlessly, shrugging his shoulders.

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“I’m not joking, Addy. How else are you supposed to find a fake boyfriend? You hold auditions. We screen them.”

I let out a heavy sigh, pulling my hand up to my mouth to bite nervously on my pinky nail—a terrible habit I’d had since middle school whenever anxiety got the best of me.

Before my teeth could even press into the nail, Miles reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from my face. He gave me a stern, mock glare.

“Ah–ah. What did we say about the nail–biting?”

I didn’t have the energy to fight him, so I just let my hand drop into my lap.

“Look,” Miles said, his tone turning a bit more practical as he looked at me.

“We’ll figure this out, okay? But I am not letting you date just any random guy off the internet. People are weird, Addy. So we’re going to set up a screening process. We find a guy who can play the part, look good in photos, keep his mouth shut until you sign the contract and your follower count blows up, and then you pay him off or give him whatever freebies he wants.”

A tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of my lips despite myself.

Miles pointed a finger at me, his eyes lighting up.

“Aha! There it is! That’s my best friend. Keep that smile right there.”

He slid off the bed and stood up. The second his weight left the mattress, panic flared in my chest.

I instinctively reached out, snaring his wrist with my fingers.

“Where are you going?” I asked quickly.

I didn’t want him to leave. I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in this quiet room alone again, letting the dark thoughts swallow me whole.

Miles raised an eyebrow down at me, a teasing smirk returning to his lips.

“Obsessed much?”

I immediately released his wrist, rolling my eyes as I leaned back against the headboard.

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Do Not Fall For The Baseball Captains

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, turning toward the door.

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“Relax, Addy. I’m going downstairs to grab your plate before the guys finish the snow crab. I’ll be back in two

minutes.”

True to his word, he reappeared a few minutes later carrying a massive silver platter piled high with steamed crab legs, jumbo shrimp, corn on the cob, and boiled potatoes dripping in seasoned butter.

The rich, savory aroma instantly hit my nose, making my stomach rumble loudly. I couldn’t believe I had almost missed out on this feast because of a temporary bout of despair.

We sat cross–legged on the hardwood floor right beside the bed, digging into the platter with our hands, messy and shameless.

We cracked crab shells, dunked shrimp into garlic dip, and talked about nothing until the platter was completely clean.

An hour later, we were both sprawled out on my bed.

Miles was lying flat on his stomach at the foot of the mattress, while I sat propped up against the headboard, resting my bare feet comfortably on the broad flat of his back.

We were scrolling through social media profiles on our phones, attempting to source potential candidates for this ridiculous “audition” idea.

“Okay, what about this guy?” I asked, holding up a profile of a handsome fitness trainer with nice pictures.

Miles craned his neck around to glance at my screen, letting out a snort.

“No way, Addy. He looks like he beats up drywall when his football team loses. Absolute red flag.”

“He’s good–looking, though!” I argued, laughing softly.

“Come on, Addy, have some self–respect,” Miles teased, turning back to his phone. “Next.”

Eventually, Miles grew tired of the talent search, propping my laptop up on his pillow to stream an action movie.

I stayed up against the headboard, continuing to scroll through various feeds. I had briefly considered signing up for a dating app, but the thought made my stomach turn.

Dating apps were a landmine of obsessed fans, weirdos, or clout–chasers who could easily leak my private messages and ruin my reputation before I even got off the ground.

I tried searching for advice articles and talent agencies on my phone, but every search result gave me flat, useless generic answers.

Finally, after thirty minutes of mindless tapping, I stumbled upon an obscure profile.

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Do Not Fall For The Baseball Captains

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The account belonged to a local guy–a motorcycle rider. His feed was dark, aesthetic, and low–key.

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