When the Kiss Cam lights up the stadium, Taylor expects to see strangers caught in awkward kisses—not her boyfriend, Dylan, locking lips with another woman. To revenge, Taylor also kisses the handsome stanger sitting next to her when the Kiss Cam swings to her. To her shock, he’s not just any stranger, but Aiden Kincaid—a billionaire, football star, and the soon-to-be ex-husband of the woman Dylan’s been seeing. Taylor thought she’d never cross paths with Aiden again, but fate has other plans. Not only does she become Aiden’s intern sports therapist, but he also offers her a deal: pretend to be his girlfriend.
Taylor POV
My boyfriend is kissing another woman on the massive Kiss Cam screen – in front of an entire stadium packed with thousands of strangers.
They are in the VIP section. If the Kiss Cam hadn’t caught them, I would never have seen them from where I’m sitting — the farthest, cheapest seats in the arena.
The woman he is kissing looks rich, with that perfect old money blonde hair, paired with a designer outfit to match.
If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe that Dylan, my Dylan, would ever do something like this to me.
My fingers tighten around the cardboard banner in my lap—Cheers for Dylan.
Dylan is one of the football players tonight, and it is his debut game as a professional football player.
As his girlfriend, I'm here to cheer for him.
Now during the halftime break, Dylan should be in his locker room resting for the second half of the game, not cozying up to some rich woman who looks like a model from a magazine
"Taylor…What the..," My best friend, Kiera, gradually snaps out of her stunned state next to me. "Are you kidding me? How could he do that to you?"
Kiera faces me with intense anger in her eyes. "You've been his biggest supporter since day one. And this is how he repays you?"
My chest twists tighter.
I remember the first time I met Dylan back in the training room. I worked as a Physical Therapy student by cleaning his teammates' sweat and monitoring their injuries.
Dylan had a smile which had a mix of playful mischief and charm that made me believe everything he said without question.
I had fallen deep for him. We were both poor students when we started dating, and he needed to spend more time on training whenever he could, so I worked multiple part-times to support his dream and our life together.
And now?
Now, I bought my own ticket, the most affordable one but still a large purchase for me, and spent hours cheering for him, all for this moment when I'm supposed to be proud and happy.
And instead…
It takes a moment for Dylan and the woman to notice the camera or the cheers.
A beat of nervousness washes over Dylan's face before he regains some sort of resolve.
The woman shoves Dylan away while raising her hand to hide her face.
Gasps ripple through the stands around me.
"Are they really that shy—or is this an affair?" a woman behind me said with a laugh.
"That's Dylan, right? The guy who scored today? That woman he kissed. I swear I've seen her somewhere before, but where?"
The crowd around us erupts in laughter, some were already digging to find out who this mystery woman is supposed to be.
"Honestly, I warned you about him." Kiera glares again at the screen with anger. "You deserve someone way better than Dylan. You should break up with that loser, now."
Her anger pulls me halfway back to myself, grounding me in a way my trembling hands can't.
My fingers shake as I text:
Me: What's going on?
The reply comes faster than I expect, slicing me open.
Dylan: You saw it. Let's break up. I didn't know how to tell you.
Just like that.
On the big screen, Dylan quickly slides his phone into his pocket and reaches for the woman's hand. He then brings her out of the camera’s frame, probably towards the backstage, the same way he used to do with me when he played on his college team.
"What did he say?" Kiera asks while leaning a bit to look at my screen.
"How dare him…" Her voice shakes with fury. She shoots to her feet, thrusting both middle fingers toward the field, even though we cannot locate where they are exactly from where we are seated. "Hey, Dylan! You're an absolute loser!"
The people around us don't know what's going on but start laughing anyway.
Suddenly, all the noise around me swells and presses in, suffocating me.
Before I collapse, a firm arm wraps around my waist, steadying me. His touch is solid, grounding, with heat radiating through the fabric of his jacket.
I look up, startled, and meet the jawline of a man who is impossibly handsome. Even with the hat shadowing part of his face, there's a spark in his dark eyes as our hands touch when he steadies me. It hits me then—he's the same guy who'd been sitting quietly beside me earlier.
I noticed him immediately while he was walking towards his seat next to me. Athletic build, steady presence. The baseball cap on his head shaded the rest of his face, obscuring the details, but even without them, I knew he was handsome enough to spell trouble.
The audience around us created a deafening noise, but he stayed completely serene while appearing to exist in a different world beyond the arena's wild environment.
He only tensed up a bit when the kiss cam screen was showing Dylan and the woman kissing.
However, I was too shocked to care more about his reactions after that.
"You okay?" His voice remains steady and controlled as he speaks with a calm tone that does not need loudness to gain attention from others.
I swallow hard while my heart races before I force out a weak "Y-yeah… thanks."
He studies the banner while his face becomes more and more stern. "Dylan? You support him?"
"N-no I'm-" But before I could explain anything, there was a minor pick up of the crowd.
All eyes on us as the massive kiss cam screen locks in on the handsome stranger holding me, as if we're some lovers caught in the moment.
The man next to me stiffens while he moves away from me, and his lips form a shape that suggests he wants to deny the situation by giving an explanation about our relationship status.
But something reckless surges through me.
The image of Dylan kissing that woman blazes behind my eyes.
And then it clicks—he's probably seeing this at the backstage, right now.
Before the stranger can speak, a sudden wild impulse takes over my body.
I reach up, cup his face, and lean in.
My lips find his, silencing whatever words he might have said.
Taylor POV
The taste of his lips still lingers when I pull back. My heart beats rapidly in my ears.
The intense noise of the crowd fades into the background as I remain fixated on him, the stranger whose steady hands kept me from collapsing just moments ago.
Except… his expression isn't good.
His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek as if I've crossed a line. His eyes—gray, stormy, search mine, not with passion but with something else entirely.
Shock. Discomfort. Maybe even anger.
What have I done?
The audience moved their attention to different laughing couples after the Kiss Cam broadcast ended as well, and their roar moved away from us like an ocean wave that pulled back into the distance.
Out of the corner of my eye, Keira's jaw practically drops. She stares in stunned silence, her eyes blown wide and her mouth parted just enough to betray her shock.
Kiera glances between me and him, disbelief etched across her features, as though she can't decide if she just witnessed it happen.
I feel the heat of shame pressing into my skin as if the stadium lights are creating an intense glare that is slowly setting my body a blaze.
"I'm sorry," I blurt, words tumbling out. "I shouldn't have—"
He doesn't speak. His lips part, then press together again, and his gaze slides toward the court as if he's willing this whole thing to vanish.
I can't stand it. The combination of Dylan's betrayal and my public kiss with a stranger and his unspoken criticism has become unbearable for me.
My chest tightens as I glance at Keira. Her wide-eyed disbelief hasn't faded, but when I reach for her hand, she doesn't pull away. "Let's go," I whisper.
She gives the tiniest nod, still stunned, but she doesn't argue.
We navigate through the crowd while fans in the background discuss the game and then a person points at me saying "That's her!"
By the time we stumble out onto the cool night streets, I'm shaking.
My banner is still crumpled in my hand, a sad reminder of the night I thought would celebrate Dylan.
Kiera loops her arm through mine. "Taylor, screw him. Screw all of it. You're better than this."
"I don't feel better," I mutter. "I feel stupid.”
"Honestly, forget Dylan, you two looked smoking out there. That kiss? Fireworks, girl.” She bumps my shoulder lightly, eyes sparkling. “Maybe you should've asked for that stranger's number before you ran.”
"Come on, Keira, stop joking around—" I start, cheeks burning, but before I can finish my sentence, my phone buzzes sharply, the notification tone slicing through my misery. I almost ignore it, but the screen lights up with a charge notification.
It is my monthly credit card bill. I usually know what I spent on so it shouldn't be a problem.
But my stomach drops this time when I see the extra $20,000.
It must be Dylan.
I didn’t mind using my money to support his dream and our life together.
But now he cheated on me while spending an extra $20,000?
How dare he?
"Dylan squandered my money this month," I mumbled to Kiera, my voice shaking. "He probably had planned to break up with me after I found out."
"What-" Kiera's face darkens. " He didn't."
"Oh, he did." My fingers tremble as I dial his number
One ring. Two. Four. Straight to voicemail. I try again.
And again. On the sixth attempt, he finally answers. His voice oozes irritation.
"Taylor. Now's not a good time. I'm about to go back to the field."
"Not a good time?" My chest aches with fury. "You used up all my savings. What did you even buy this time?"
Then Dylan sighs like I'm the problem. "It's an investment."
"An investment? With my money?" My voice cracks. "In what, Dylan?"
"Don't be dramatic." His tone shifts, almost smug. "It's Ella, the woman I kissed earlier. You saw her."
"Ella?" The name punches the air from my lungs.
"She's wealthy, Taylor. I need to bring her on dates that are up to her standards. Once I win her over, everything will change. I'll pay you back—every penny. You just need to be patient."
The world tilts beneath me. "So you're using me—my money—to impress another woman?"
He exhales, annoyed. "It's called strategy. I saw you kissing another man too, by the way. Why don't we just both move on? "
Memories of kissing that stranger in front of everyone floods back. I can feel my cheeks heat up.
I don't have time to think about a stranger right now.
I have to get my money back.
"You cheated first, Dylan." My voice steadies, icy now. "If you don't pay me back immediately, I'll go to her. I'll tell Ella exactly what you've been doing."
That gets him. His voice sharpens, ugly. "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me."
"Careful, Taylor." He now speaks with such venom. I have never heard him talk to me like that before.
"You don't know who-." The line goes dead. "Oh no, he didn't just hang up on me."
I try calling back but met with the robotic voice of an automated system: "The number you are dialing has blocked you."
"You're seriously not letting him get away with this, right?" Kiera grabs me, her words igniting the flame inside me.
He's not just going to walk away from this.
Not with my money, and certainly not with my dignity.
“I'm going backstage to find Ella.” I whisper. "She deserves to know what a Prick he really is."
Although the sports venue is quieter now since the second half of the game is about to start, the security personnel maintain their position with operational radios crackling in the shadows.
Kiera hisses beside me as we sneak toward the side entrance. "Taylor, you're insane. But if you're doing this, I'm with you."
I squeeze her hand. "Thank you."
The backstage area hums with the noise of distant voices, while the air carries the scent of sweat and disinfectant. The walls display shiny posters showing athletes with glossy smiles.
Then I see him. Dylan. His eyes land on me, and something hard flickers there.
To my surprise, Ella is not there with him.
"Get her out of here," Dylan says flatly, dismissing me like I'm some crazed fan. "She doesn't belong."
"What?" My voice rises, sharp and trembling. "You can't just—"
Two guards advance, broad shoulders blotting out the hallway lights.
Kiera squeezes my hand hard. "Go find Ella. I'll distract them."
"What? No—"
"Taylor, go!" she hisses, then spins toward the guards with the kind of wild, dramatic energy only she can pull off. "You want trouble? Here it is!"
She kicks over a trash bin which produces a loud metallic sound before she throws her arms into the air as if she wants to start a protest. The guards immediately turn their attention to her, shouting commands as she shrieks in exaggerated outrage.
"Don't touch me! I know my rights!" she yells, drawing every eye in the hallway.
My heart twists with gratitude.
"I owe you one" I whisper even though I know she can't hear me because her loud performance drowns out my voice.
With their focus on Kiera, I ran down the hallways as my heart races with increasing speed.
I expect to find Ella somewhere nearby, maybe tucked into a private lounge or corner of the backstage area. But when I finally turn a corner, I freeze at the sight before me.
Ella is there, yes—draped in elegance. But she's not with Dylan.
She's speaking to HIM.
The stranger. The man from the stands. The one I kissed.
He stands a few feet from Ella, his shoulders squared, posture rigid as though every muscle in his body is strung tight. His fists flex at his sides, slowly opening and closing, like he's fighting to stay calm.
"Unbelievable," he mutters. "We're still in the middle of a divorce process, and you're already parading around with a new boyfriend?"
"Oh, calm down, Aiden." Ella doesn't flinch. She crosses her arms over her chest, chin tilted high, her perfume drifting sharp and floral even from where I'm hiding.
Oh God.
The stranger—the man whose lips I stole in a moment of reckless desperation—is Ella’s husband.
Her divorcing but still married husband.
Aiden POV
Twenty Minutes Ago
I'm a billionaire, a quarterback for one of the biggest American football teams, and one of the main investors in Pacific Wave FC.
Nick, the club manager, sits beside me. We came here to scout—check out Dylan's debut, see if the kid's worth signing for next season, maybe spot a few other recruits. That's why we slipped into these cheap seats instead of the VIP box. The plan was to stay unnoticed, avoid the players' eyes, and keep a low profile.
But now my mind keeps replaying the moment I saw Ella kissing him while her hand kept rubbing his arm as if it belongs there.
My chest tightens at the thought.
After all, she is still my wife. Even though we’ve been living apart for quite some time.
As if that weren't enough, some girl—barely more than a stranger—yanked me into a kiss, and of course the Kiss Cam caught it.
Now I'm supposed to be paying attention to the match, blending in with the crowd, but how can I?
The guy two rows down keeps sneaking glances, like he half-recognizes me from a sports headline or a highlight reel.
I sink lower in my seat, wishing to look normal.
"That girl could work in our favor," Nick says carefully, flipping through his clipboard. "If you're seen dating and kissing her, it might clean up your public image. People think you only go for blondes with trust funds. And that you don't respect poor people."
The girl’s face cuts through the noise in my head—dark hair tumbling in loose waves, skin with a sun kissed warmth that doesn't fade under stadium lights, eyes the color of strong coffee watching me like she already knew my secrets.
Even her mouth, the one I can still feel pressed to mine, held something defiant in it.
She looked nothing like the polished blondes I’ve been photographed beside. She looked real.
I glare at him. "I'm not even divorced yet. There's nothing to discuss."
"Deadline to sign the papers is this week. Ella's already moved on, Aiden.” He sighs, leaning back into his chair. "What's really stopping you?"
"What's stopping me?" I can't help but frown at the question. "I just don't want this."
Divorce feels like failure. Every woman I've ever dated was dazzling, the type who lit up magazine covers.
And yet, they all said the same thing to me when we broke up — that I couldn’t give them what they really wanted.
Love.
I need to talk to Ella. Now.
My phone feels heavy in my hand as I type out the word: We need to talk. I saw the kiss cam.
Then I hit send before I can even stop myself.
Taylor POV
"You never loved me! The only thing you ever loved was football!"
Ella's voice rips through the hallway loud and raw, shattering the quiet like glass underfoot.
Her voice trembles with fury and something sharper. It contains pain– hurt so deep it almost burns the air around it.
Pressing flat against the cold wall, my spine aching from the sudden tension.
My heart begins to hammer so violently. I could hardly hear the voices coming from further down the hall. I clutch my jacket so tight that my knuckles begin to turn white.
I should not be here. I should not be eavesdropping.
My mind is telling me to run away, but my feet won't listen while my eyes stay locked on them.
"That’s not true…" Aiden tries to explain.
But Ella cuts him off sharp before he can finish his sentence, her voice trembling. "You never loved me, Aiden. Not even when I was in the hospital… after the miscarriage."
My stomach drop. A miscarriage.
I have never known anyone to go through something so devastating and so achingly personal.
Aiden's voice cuts through the silence, soft, almost desperate. "Ella…I--I didn't get the message in time. I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner I--"
"I waited," Ella whispers, voice cracking into a shuddering sob. "Three days. Three days, Aiden. And you couldn't even come then. Couldn't even be there when I needed you most."
Even though I saw her practically kissing off my boyfriend's face on the Kiss Cam, a stubborn part of me can't help but feel it for her.
And then there's him.
Aiden.
He should have been there for Ella, holding her hands and whispering to her that everything would be okay. But he didn't.
He is handsome, sure, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, voice smooth, words practiced, but beneath it all—he's a douchebag.
The kind of guy who makes it impossible not to notice him while simultaneously making you hate everything about him.
"I let you down in every way—" His words break apart thick with regret, trembling around the edges like it might crack entirely. "I would do anything to change that. Anything."
"Let me down? You think that's the word for it?" she spits, each syllable heavy with pain.
"You think an apology can undo the nights I spent crying alone? You think I can forget that you… you didn't care enough?" Her voice breaks at the end, lacing with anger but also with a hint of something almost softer, almost like the tremor of heartbreak hiding beneath the anger.
Aiden's voice drops to a lower tone while he speaks with greater caution.
"Ella… please let's not go through with the divorce. Can we… just try again? I want us to work."
The silence that follows is like ice. I can feel Ella's hesitation before I hear it.
"I… I have someone now," she says finally, steadier than I expected. "Someone who actually cares. Someone who would not leave me waiting when I needed them most. Unlike… you."
"The boy you kissed today? He is way too young to take any responsibility." Aiden's words falter, a stutter of disbelief.
"I trust him," Ella exhales, the sound sharp, resolute. "I will go public about my relationship with him after the divorce, his name is Dylan, he is not someone like you who hides, who avoids responsibility, who—"
I roll my eyes before she can finish.
Dylan? Please.
If she really believes that man will stand by her, she's in for a brutal wake-up call.
He only cares about her money.
I initially came here to warn her…but now I'm not sure about that.
Ella probably also saw the kiss between Dylan and me. I guess she won't trust what I'm going to tell her now.
Maybe another time. Another way.
I should have walk away the moment I heard the word “divorce”. Now I need to disappear before either of them becomes aware of my presence.
As I turn to leave, my foot nudges a metal trash can and a sharp clang rings out.
Where did that trash can come from?
I stumble back. My heart shoots up to my throat while my pulse creates a deafening sound in my ears.
"Oh shit," I whisper, my voice small, barely audible over the hammering of my own heart.
"Who's there?" Aiden's voice slicing through the silence, sharp and laced with irritation.
