The sports king secret wife

Chapter one Sophie’s POV The moment my brain decided it was time to wake up, what followed was a heavy pounding; the kind of pounding that felt like someone had used my skull as a football all night. I groaned and forced my eyes open, blinking at a ceiling I had never seen before. This definitely wasn’t my dorm room. My brain was still trying to process that when I felt something heavy around my waist. An arm; a very muscular arm. My entire body froze as I slowly turned my head and nearly died on the spot. The most famous boy in school, the untouchable football king, was sleeping right beside me. Adrian Cole, and he was shirtless. That was because I was wearing it. My brain short-circuited instantly, but then I looked down at myself and things got worse. Panic rushed through me, and I quickly grabbed the duvet, lifting it just enough to peek underneath. Oh my God...I was in my panties. “Oh my God!” I shot out of bed so fast the duvet tangled around my legs. I stumbled and immediately slipped. My arms flew out as I crashed into a table, hugging it for balance while papers scattered everywhere. I grabbed the curtain to stop myself from falling, but that only made things worse. The entire curtain came down with me, and sunlight flooded the room like it came to expose my sins personally. Behind me, the bed creaked, and a deep groan followed. “Will you keep it down?” a sleepy voice muttered. “I’m trying to sleep.” I froze where I was on the floor, my heart hammering, as something on the ground caught my eye. A thick sheet of paper lay among the scattered mess. It looked official, so I grabbed it quickly, my fingers already trembling. My stomach dropped the moment I saw the title; Marriage Registration Certificate. My eyes widened as I read the two names printed beneath them; Sophie Hal and Adrian Cole. “No…” The word came out as a whisper. “No… no… no…” My gaze slowly moved from the paper to the silver band on my finger, and then slowly to Adrian as he sat up, messy hair falling over his forehead, his sleepy eyes focusing on me. “We… we’re married?” I whispered. The words felt like dirt. “What?” That snapped him fully awake. He got off the bed immediately and walked toward me, grabbing the paper in my hands—but then my eyes dropped lower, and another scream burst out of me. “Oh my God! Put on clothes!” I scrambled backward like a frightened animal, tripping over the curtain as I dragged it with me. “Nope! Nope! This is illegal. This is everything wrong with society!” I ran out, desperate to get away from that gruesome sight, sighted the bathroom door, opened it, and ran into it. The door slammed behind me as I locked it like my life depended on it. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest as I stared at my reflection. My hair was a disaster, his jersey hung loosely over me, and the ring on my finger looked very real. “What the hell is happening? This is my worst nightmare turned into reality,” I whispered. "What did you do, Sophie…” Outside the door, a loud knock echoed. “Bloody freshman!” he barked. “Get back out here and explain yourself! What the hell did you do?” I blinked hard, anger finally pushing past the panic. “Me? I should be asking you that! You hill jock monkey!” After a moment, I yelled, “Stop hitting the door! I’ll come out—just stop!” The noise stopped. I opened the door slowly and stepped out, scanning the messy floor again. “Where are they…” I muttered under my breath. “What are you looking for?” he asked, watching me now. “My glasses, half-brained ego head.” “What did you say?” he stepped toward me. “Nothing, sir,” I said quickly, spotting them beside the table. I grabbed them and slipped them on, relief flooded me when the world became clear again—unfortunately including him. I stretched my hand toward him. “The papers… or do you want to stay my husband until death do us apart?” “You wish, you obsessed freak,” he scoffed, handing them over. I snorted. “Obsessed? With you? I’d rather lick the boys’ locker room floors with my tongue.” Something flickered in his eyes, as though he was intrigued by my choice of words—and that was worse. He took slow steps toward me, his eyes never leaving me, until my back was against the wall. Then he stopped, his face far too close, his presence suddenly too steady for someone in this situation. His gaze dipped briefly, then returned to mine slowly. “Well…” he said quietly, “I know something else you could use your tongue for.” “Eww! Get the hell away from me!” I shoved him away and rushed across the room, grabbing a pillow to shield myself. My face burned as I caught him staring for half a second too long. “How can you be so relaxed about this?” I asked, staring at him as he jumped on the bed like none of this bothered him. “Because this is obviously some sick joke,” he said lazily. “That paper can’t possibly be valid. You can and will never be my wife. I have standards.” I ignored him and looked down at the document again, this time properly. My eyes moved slowly until they landed on the official seal at the bottom… and something else. It was a third different signature, different from mine and this dimwit. Witness: L. Moretti. My mind was racing as though I could somehow replay the events of last night. Oh, I wish. “I won’t be too sure about that, hotshot,” I said, waving the papers at him. The bed creaked as he got up again and snatched the paper from my hands, his eyes scanning it quickly. I watched it happen—the exact moment his expression shifted from annoyance to disbelief. “How on earth…” He ran a hand through his hair, then exhaled once and forced a tight smile. “Well, wifey… I’m sorry about this.” He held up the paper slightly. “But we’re getting a divorce.” Relief hit instantly. “Good.” “Great.” For one second, we actually agreed. Then he froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing at the bottom of the document. “… What the hell?” My stomach twisted. “What now?” He turned the paper toward me and pointed. Divorce is not permitted within the first six months after registration. Silence filled the room instantly, as though it was a third party. Then he groaned loudly and dragged a hand down his face. “Congratulations, freshman.” His gaze dropped briefly to the rings on our fingers before lifting back to mine, sharper now. “Your wish finally came true,” Adrian said, his voice low, more controlled. “You get me as your husband for the next six months.” I stared at him in disgust, and for the first time since I woke up… This didn’t feel funny anymore.