Page 34 of Fake Skating

But dear God , my heart flipped all the way over when he exited the locker room, looking somehow better in his dress clothes postgame—with shower-dampened hair—than he had before. His gaze landed on me, and his mouth slid into a smile that was dangerously swoony.

Oh no.

What is happening to me?

He didn’t glance at anyone else as he headed straight in my direction, dark brown eyes all over my face.

Pull it together, Collins!

“Want me to take your stuff?” John asked, his voice bringing me back from the Alec-only universe I’d drifted away to.

“Nah, I’m going to go home and change before heading out,” Alec said.

Everyone started talking hockey then, gushing about how great Alec had played while also trash-talking the referees, and I just watched the show.

I’d always rolled my judgmental eyes about the jocks at every school I attended, walking around with their chests all puffed up because they knew how to throw a ball really far.

But I’d never thought about their parents.

Or their uncles.

Or their neighbors.

I looked around, and little groupings were all over the place, people bunched around their respective hockey player. Moms dressed from head to toe in Southview gear, dads laughing with their buddies—it was… not at all how I thought it would be.

Was this a hockey thing or a Southview thing?

“You goin’ to Richie’s?” Big John asked.

“Yeah,” Alec said before those deep brown eyes found mine. “You should come to Richie’s, Collins. I’m sure Cassie’ll be there.”

Everyone had been so welcoming and Cassie was great, but why did I suddenly feel like maybe I didn’t belong? Why do I feel nauseous?

“I think I’m just going to head back with you,” I said to my mom. “Maybe next time.”

“Well we’re stopping at the PNA on the way home,” she said, obviously trying to nudge me to find another ride, “so it might be a while.”

“What’s a PNA?”

“The Polish Lodge,” Mom said.

The Polish Lodge. First the Croatian Hall, now the Polish Lodge.

I’m pretty sure we’re of Irish and German descent, Mom.

But I didn’t ask any more questions as I piled into a truck with a bunch of adults, watching Alec leave, part of me wanting to go with him to wherever he was going but scared I’d regret it if I did.

Instead I was left regretting my current choice minutes later as I followed Big John toward a stucco-looking house.

What the…?

I had doubts, but then my mom grabbed my arm and said, “Prepare to be wowed.”

We followed Big John through a side door and went down the stairs, and… well, it was like a dive bar.

In a basement.

There was a bar with beer taps and TVs on the wall, a pool table, and darts, but also—it was a basement.

A basement packed full of people.

At least it’s warm, I thought, walking with my mom as Sarah and Big John led us to a table and started taking off their coats.

“Am I allowed to be here?” I asked. “As a minor?”

“As long as you’re not drinking or serving,” John said. “Now tell Sarah what you want to drink so I can tell you all about this place.”

“Must you?” I teased.

“You’re a Southview girl now, so yes—I must,” he teased back.

I am not a Southview girl, I thought. I am a nowhere girl.

But a tiny part of me wished I were a Southview girl.

John leaned a little closer so I could hear him over the noise, and launched into a history lesson as if we weren’t in just a bar.

He told me all about how in the early 1900s, a large Polish immigrant population arrived in town, drawn to jobs in big meatpacking plants.

They built the social hall as a place to get together for drinks after a hard week, and to have things like weddings and funerals.

“The Cro’s got a similar history,” he said, sounding like all this was personally important to him, and I wondered if Alec felt the same way.

I mean, he did seem to read history books for fun.

“But for the Croatian immigrants, yes?”

He grinned. “You got it, kid.”

The funny thing was that Big John’s little story made me look at the dive bar a little differently. It’d been a long time since 1911, and I was pretty sure there were no more meatpacking plants in Southview.

Which meant that all these people at the PNA had kept the place alive by choice.

In a metropolis full of trendy bars and restaurants, this community chose to celebrate their win at the tiny historic bar in the middle of their neighborhood.

Why do I find that charming as hell?

“Well, hi, Dani,” I heard, and when I turned around, it was Jessie Osman, the coach’s wife, whom I’d met at the team dinner but hadn’t really talked to.

And standing beside her, but talking to someone at the moment, was Coach Oz himself.

I immediately felt panicked, because I’d actively avoided eye contact with the man after he’d seen me groping his half-naked defenseman.

“Hi,” I said, clearing my throat.

“How’s it going?” she asked. “Getting all settled at Southview?”

“Yes,” I said, though it was kind of a yell because the place was so crowded and noisy.

“Alec played great,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning closer. “Where is he?”

Shit. Had he said he was going to Richie’s, or to Kyle’s? I seriously couldn’t remember, but his actual girlfriend would know, right? “Um, he’s hanging out with some of his teammates.”

“Where’s Zeus?” the coach yelled to me.

He obviously hadn’t heard my answer to his wife’s question, and I was even more scared to answer him than I was to answer her. I didn’t know who knew what about anything, but since our act was for the audience of hockey people, I didn’t want to mess up.

“Richie’s,” his wife said to him, apparently more in the know than me about which teammates were having people over postgame.

“Ah,” he said, nodding.

“So I’m curious,” she said, narrowing her eyes and smiling. “I heard that you two are old family friends, but how did that turn into dating?”

“Um.” I cleared my throat again, wishing I had any idea what details Alec had given his coach about our fake relationship.

“Yeah, I’d actually really love to hear this,” Big John said with a huge grin, his mischievous eyes looking a lot like Alec’s as he crossed his arms and waited for my response. “Because one day you hadn’t even seen each other yet, and the next you’re FaceTiming at all hours of the night.”

“Collins!”

I looked toward the door as Alec and his friends walked in.

Thank God.

He was grinning as he cut through the people, laughing at something some old guy in an I’M MORE SOUTHVIEW THAN YOU T-shirt said as he passed, and as I watched him work his way in our direction, it occurred to me that he looked like he belonged in that basement bar.

Like he was part of it, like he was somehow related to every one of those people who chose to spend their Friday night together in a basement where a mural of Poland was painted on the cement-block wall.

And I was jealous.

I was always jealous, at a base level, of people who’d lived in the same place their entire lives and didn’t have to move every few years, but this was different.

Because I’d lived most of my life in an isolated family of three.

I liked my little trio (and was struggling at the moment to deal with its dissolution), but seeing Alec move about in this community, where it felt like every adult was his fun uncle, teasing him like they’d always been in his life and genuinely cared about his well-being, made me wish I knew what that felt like.

“Hey,” he said when he reached my side, giving me a questioning grin, like he was wondering what I could possibly be saying to his coach.

“Hey, yourself,” I replied, snaking my arms around his right bicep and giving him what I hoped looked like a girlfriendy grin. “Your timing is perfect, because Mrs. Oz was just asking me how we went from old childhood friends to dating.”

“Yeah?” He grinned down at me like he liked this, though I wasn’t sure which this he might like,to be honest.

“Yeah,” I said. “And I want to hear your version.”

“I bet you do,” he said, and then he winked. “But the best things in life should be kept secret.”

I wanted to roll my eyes so badly as all the adults laughed at him, but I didn’t.

And then he kissed the top of my head.

I gasped because what the hell , but thankfully the room was so loud that no one heard it.

Alec’s eyes shot to mine and were unreadable as he watched me, and I cleared my throat and tried to look calm.

But I was shaken up by the fact that his stupid little kiss, all part of the act, had felt natural.

Like it was something he’d done before.

Which he hadn’t, right?

God, I’m losing it!

“I wonder if you still suck at darts,” I said abruptly, desperately needing to untangle myself from him and get a little breathing space.

“You little shits used to fill my wall with holes when you played with my metal-tipped darts,” Big John said with a laugh.

“I wonder if you’re still a sore loser,” Alec replied, the cautiousness in his gaze disappearing. “Come on.”

He grabbed my hand and led me over to the dartboards, and when we stopped, he turned and asked, “Do you actually want to play darts, or were you looking for a rescue?”

“Oh my God, Alec, I was freaking out,” I said, letting out my breath. “When his wife started asking me to tell the story of us and I had no idea what you’d actually already said, I was convinced I was going to blow the whole thing.”

“Well then, I’m glad I showed up just in time,” he said.

“Yeah, why are you here?”

“Richie’s brother kicked us out.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Do you want to play?” He gestured toward the dartboards.

“I’m in,” Richie said, suddenly beside us.

“Me too,” said Cassie, popping up next to him.

“Yeah, same,” Kyle said, and then it was set.

Apparently we were all going to play darts.

I took off my jacket and put it on the back of a chair, feeling slightly unsettled by how social this suddenly felt. I’d purposely left with my mom to avoid this very scenario, for God’s sake.

But once we started playing, it was surprisingly fun.

Ridiculously fun.