Page 48 of Fake Skating

Friday started with annoyance in the form of a text.

Ben Worthington: If you ever need a ride to school, I go in that direction so just lmk

Yeah, no . The last thing I needed was for Alec or his friends to see Benji texting me, so I really wished he’d forget my number.

And then on the way to school, the day’s theme switched from annoying to stressful.

Because my dad started texting.

Dad: Daniella Grace, I’d appreciate a call this evening. I’m out of time and patience.

Shit. I glanced guiltily at my mom, who was watching the road as she drove, blissfully unaware of my traitorous texting.

I needed to respond, especially after he’d sounded so unusually…

nice when I talked to him at Bryce’s party.

He’d been impatient for my answer, of course, but he’d also genuinely seemed like he maybe just missed me.

Which stressed me out because it made the decision harder.

I texted: Okay—sorry.

My heart started beating faster when my phone buzzed and he replied: It shouldn’t be this hard.

I jammed the phone in my bag, feeling like a jerk reading his texts while sitting beside my mom. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the drive, my hands shaking and the panic clawing at my chest as I ran through the scenarios over and over again in my head.

Do what he wants and destroy my mom—and maybe myself—or tell him no and lose the opportunity to ever get close to him.

I had to go into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face when I got to school, because my thoughts were getting too loud for my body to ignore.

But every second I wasn’t worrying about my parents, I was thinking about Alec, which made my stomach fill with butterflies.

And not the fun ones that went crazy every time I thought about the kiss.

No, these were the bad ones.

Because I had no idea what was going on with us.

Or how I felt about it— gahhhhhh .

Did I have real feelings for him? That was a big yes.

Had we had the world’s most amazing kiss that definitely wasn’t fake?

Oh yeah.

Did that mean anything at all regarding my relationship with him?

No idea whatsoever.

Just because I liked him and really liked kissing him didn’t mean that (A) he felt the same, or (B) we should do anything about it. College on the other side of the country was still waiting for me, and hockey was still waiting for him.

So us = still not a great idea.

Especially when he was dealing with so much hockey pressure. The best thing I could do as his friend would be to support him and not be a distraction, right?

He didn’t need our “relationship” messing with his focus.

But even as I had these internal heart-to-heart talks with myself, there was a part of me that didn’t want to listen.

Because maybe… God , I was terrified to even think it. But maybe it was okay to feel more with him. Maybe it was okay to be more with him, because he was the exception.

Chill out, chill out.

I was overthinking everything, my nerves shredded, because in addition to my feels for Alec, I had tomorrow’s section finals to worry about. Now that I knew how stressed he was and how much pressure he felt, the stakes felt out-of-this-world high.

He held my hand when I found him by his locker, and the look he gave me curled my toes, but nothing out of the ordinary (in our fake dating situation) transpired between us. We had speech and lunch together, but the entire day was exactly as it’d been before the kiss.

Which, of course, drove me to distraction wondering what that meant.

I was glad when the final bell rang because I needed a break from my own head.

I rode with Alec to the Doug, where the team had a quick run-through. They went over the game plan for the next day and did some skating, but it was low-key and relaxed.

Cassie wasn’t there (she had a doctor’s appointment), so I just sat on the bleachers and watched Alec like a stalker the entire time.

His big body, skating so effortlessly; the way he could casually maneuver the puck with his stick like it was an extension of his arm; the sound of his deep voice when he yelled… would I ever not be absolutely transfixed by it all?

I was already on a bit of an Alec high when he texted me while I was locking the storage room: I need your help.

Everyone else had already left, but I was used to Alec being last.

I texted: What’s up?

Alec: You know how superstitious I am, right?

That made me smile, because he was a silly little boy when it came to that.

I texted: I do.

Alec: Well, after the practice before the best game of my life, this girl stumbled into the locker room and our chains got tangled together. It was a whole thing.

I giggled, then looked around to make sure no one had appeared out of nowhere to mock me for my idiocy.

Coast appears to be clear.

Me: Yeah?

Alec: Yeah. No one is in here, and I know for a fact the coaches have left, so… would you consider…?

I gasped, and maybe giggled, as I looked down at the message.

Me: You’re insane and NO WAY

My mind went back to his bare chest and the way his neck had smelled in the stuffy locker room. Like fresh soap.

Alec: PLEEEEEEEASE? You know how important this game is. I am desperate to re-create everything from that game.

I couldn’t. I mean, I couldn’t .

So why was I walking toward the locker room? I mean, he was in there, so it made sense to go talk to him about it in person instead of texting, right? That was all I was doing. I was going to where he was to discuss how ridiculous his request was.

I looked around when I got to the locker room, and I didn’t see a single soul in the Doug. I knew there had to be people somewhere, the people who opened and closed the place, but they were nowhere to be found at that moment.

“Alec?” I said, pushing open the door, my stomach fluttery as my pulse pounded.

“Right here,” he said, and if I’d instantly fainted, it wouldn’t have been an overreaction.

There. He. Was.

I could see this time, my eyes absent of tears, and I suddenly wondered if this was a mistake. Because Alec looked way out of my league of knowledge at the moment.

He looked somehow dangerous.

He was bare-chested, and this time in perfect focus.

He had pecs and abs and biceps—holy shit those biceps.

I swallowed and was grateful that he had on sweatpants this time, because I felt like I would have turned and run out of the locker room like a schoolgirl if he’d been wearing boxer briefs again.

I would have spontaneously combusted or melted into a puddle on the floor.

The music that was playing somewhere in the locker room wasn’t helping my calm, though.

Sweat, lose your breath

Any way you move, I’m into it

“I feel like this is a stupid dumb terrible idea,” I said, walking toward him.

“Oh, honey,” he said, his eyes wild with mischief, “most superstitions are.”

I stopped in front of him, not too close but close enough. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and I could tell he wasn’t paying attention to our words. His dark eyes were on mine, and it felt like we were both simmering, like water getting ready to boil.

“Okay.” I cleared my throat. “So what exactly are we doing here specifically ?”

“By ‘specifically,’ are you trying to differentiate what the goal is from the fact that we are inappropriately close in a locker room when I’m not fully dressed?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m looking for; thank you for the clarification,” I said around a laugh.

“The way I recall it,” he said, “I hugged you, you hugged me back, and then our chains got connected and I had to pull them apart.”

“That is how I recall it too,” I said, but my voice was almost a whisper.

“Then let’s do this,” he said.

Even though I knew it was coming, I somehow felt shocked when he wrapped his big arms around me. Butterflies went wild in my stomach and adrenaline pumped through my body as I slid my hands over his skin and hugged him back, like I’d touched a live wire or something.

I closed my eyes and let the smell of him into my senses, trying to be cool about the feel of his big arms wrapped around me.

But when I pulled back, our chains didn’t get tangled.

“Come on,” he said, grinning down at me in that way that made his eyes squint. “I guess we need to try again.”

“This is ridiculous,” I laughed. “Are you sure this isn’t a ploy?”

“What are you saying, Collins?” he said, his deep voice making the flirt sound dirty. “That you think I like your hands all over my chest? Do you think I like canoodling with you in the locker room?”

“I actually think it’s possible, yes,” I said, wondering why it was so hard to speak.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t hate if it took ten tries,” he said. “Come here and let’s get these chains to lock up.”

He pulled me close again, this time wrapping his arms around my waist so tightly that I almost felt crushed against him in the very best way. He lifted me a little and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and when we pulled back, our necklaces were tangled together.

I felt his grin but couldn’t actually see it because his face was down by my neck.

“Success,” he murmured, and I felt him untangling us.

I closed my eyes as his breath raised goose bumps on my skin.

“I think I kissed your neck last time, didn’t I?” he said, so, so quietly.

“Um,” I breathed, unable to form words.

“I’m pretty sure I did,” he said, and his mouth was so close to my neck I could feel the vibration of his voice. “And we don’t want to mess with the superstition.”

“Well, if that’s what you remember happening,” I managed, fully aware that we both knew that had never happened, “we definitely don’t want to mess with the…”

I trailed off when his lips touched my skin. There must’ve been a framework of nerve endings in that very spot, because every cell in my body sparked and sizzled at the feel of his mouth on my skin.

“And if I recall,” he said, his teeth dragging over the side of my neck, “I might have nibbled a little bit too.”