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TWENTY-ONE

Why did I agree to this again?

“It’s going to be good for you,” Natalie says, reading my mind. Her face is on my iPad, propped up against my bathroom mirror as I get ready for this date . The word leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

In the three days since I agreed to this, I’ve come close to backing out at least a dozen times. The only thing stopping me is the thought of Jace’s pissed-off face when he sees me moving on. At this point, the opportunity to fill my plus-one for Sunday isn’t a factor; my focus is solely on giving my ex a taste of his own medicine.

The actual date holds no appeal. It still feels oddly wrong.

I understand where Ada and Natalie are coming from—I should finally experience dating as an adult and open myself up to new possibilities. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is a mistake.

Ryan’s reaction the other night didn’t exactly put me at ease, either.

As I count down the minutes until I have to leave, my stomach churns with… something I can’t quite explain, but it doesn’t feel good. No butterflies or anticipation. It feels more like taking a shot in the dark on a multiple-choice test—scribbling in a bubble even when you know you're more likely to get it wrong than right.

“You look beautiful, but you better get going. Isn’t your reservation in twenty minutes?” Natalie’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, making me pause mid-brush through my hair.

Shoot, she’s right. “Yeah, let me call an Uber. Wish me luck!”

“You’re gonna kill it, girl. And don’t forget to have fun,” she says before ending the call.

My nerves only get worse during the ride to the restaurant. By the time the car pulls up outside, I feel like I’m going to be sick, but it’s accompanied by a determination to see this thing through.

James—the “sweetheart” guy—picked an upscale wine bar for our date. It’s fancier than I would’ve chosen, preferring casual restaurants to the overly snooty, but I try to keep an open mind. As I approach, he gets up from the table. He’s handsome, with a polished and neat appearance, but I’m not sure he’s my type. He’s not as tall as I imagine, at least six inches shorter than Ryan.

We exchange slightly awkward introductions, and I take the seat opposite him. I start with a safe question, asking him what he does for a living. Apparently, he’s passionate about his job as an investment banker because he manages to talk about it nonstop for twenty minutes, barely coming up for air. At this point, I think I could give a TED Talk on his résumé.

“It’s like being a financial adviser on steroids. I work closely with my team to evaluate the financial health of companies, assess risks, and develop creative solutions to meet our clients’ goals. I have a team of nine working under me,” he says, pausing, presumably waiting for me to sing his praises.

I nod and smile politely, hoping that’s the end of his monologue and chastising myself for assuming only athletes were egotistical.

I choke down another sip of red wine. Normally, I’m a white wine girl, but my date didn’t ask before ordering a bottle of red for us. There’s only one kind of red I actually like, but I can’t remember the name. Pinot? Cabernet? No, something less common. I’m tempted to pull out my phone to ask Ryan, but even I know it’s bad form to text on a date.

“What do you do, Hannah?” James asks, pulling me back into the conversation.

“I’m actually starting a non-profit, foster-based animal rescue.” Which reminds me, I still need to send in the incorporation paperwork my lawyer helped me draft. And I can add finding a date for the fundraiser to my to-do list, because, despite my friends’ wishful thinking, I already know it won’t be James.

“Oh, how philanthropic of you.” He smirks.

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes slightly. “I guess. I’ve been volunteering at shelters since I was a teenager. I have a soft spot for animals, and I want to help save as many as I can.”

“Is that going to be a financially rewarding venture?”

I laugh, but when I see his stoic expression, I realize he isn’t joking. “I don’t think anyone gets into animal rescue for the money.”

“Looks like I’ll have to be the breadwinner,” he teases with a wink.

Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t do it, Hannah. “You have a dog, right?” I ask, giving him a chance to redeem himself.

“I do. Chip. He’s a purebred English Springer Spaniel. I saw him in the pet shop window and couldn’t resist taking him home. Maybe after this, you could come back to mine and meet him?”

I bite my lip, holding back a rant about pet shops and puppy mills. And in what universe does he think this date is going well enough for me to go back to his place? I shake my head, hoping it’s enough to shut down the idea. “So, what are you looking for? Relationship-wise, I mean.” I take a sip of wine to give my hands something to do. “This is actually my first date since my broken engagement,” I add, immediately cringing.

James doesn’t seem bothered by my poor date etiquette, easily rolling with the punches. “So you’re not looking for anything serious, then, if you just got out of a relationship?”

Points for James—he gets it. Though he probably assumes it’s because I’m still hung up on my ex. The truth is I just don’t want to end up with someone like Jace again. Someone who will derail my focus on myself and my own plans. I refuse to lose myself in someone else’s orbit, and the easiest way to avoid that is by steering clear of getting involved with anyone. But I’m not about to spill my guts to a stranger I’m certain I’ll never see again.

“No. I’m not looking for anything serious, but my friends encouraged me to put myself out there again, so here I am,” I tell him, deciding honesty is the best policy.

He smirks, and it hits me with an unsettling familiarity. It’s the same look Jace wore a whole lot of at All-Star Weekend. I can’t quite tell if it’s the guy sitting across from me or the reminder of my ex that sours my stomach.

“I’m looking for something casual, too. You’re stunning, sweetheart. I’d be happy to show you a good time.”

Scratch that: He definitely does not get it.

Did I inadvertently imply I was looking for a hookup? Gosh, I suck at this. I thought shutting down his invitation made it clear I wasn’t looking for that. Especially not with him. “Thank you. Tonight has been nice, but no. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

Why am I apologizing? Old habits really do die hard. This date was supposed to be about testing the waters as the new me—the version of me who doesn’t mold herself around a man. But here I am, once again, trying to fit into a box to please someone else. This time, I’m not sure why. I don’t even like this guy.

“Of course not. Let’s just see where the night takes us,” James says, undeterred. When he reaches across the table in search of my hand, I grab my wineglass and bring it to my lips to avoid his touch. Still, his eyes drop to my cleavage. Talk about not catching a hint.

I tug the neckline of the too-tight dress Natalie convinced me to wear. I know she wanted me to feel fierce and sexy, but right now, all I feel is uncomfortable. Shifting in my seat, I force a smile, wondering how much longer until I can get up and leave.

My phone vibrates in my clutch where it rests on my lap. Not caring if it’s rude, I check it and see an incoming call from Ryan. “Excuse me for a moment. It’s my friend. It could be important.”

I quickly stand and head toward a hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Leaning against the wall, I shield my ear to block out the chatter of the bar before pressing accept.

“Hannah.” The way he says my name, even in his clipped tone, somehow soothes me.

“Hey. Everything okay?” The silence stretches on for so long that I glance at my screen, half expecting the call to have dropped. It hasn’t. “You still there?”

“Sorry, yeah. I don’t know why I called. I told myself I wouldn’t… but here we are.” He sighs.

“It’s okay. You’re kind of saving me from what’s turning out to be a pretty bad date.” I shuffle into the ladies’ room, searching for more privacy.

“Does that mean there won’t be another one?”

“No, definitely not. I’m actually going to use this call as an excuse to leave.”

I hear him exhale before asking, “Can I come pick you up?”

“You’re not my cab driver, Ry. I’ll just call an Uber. I only had maybe three sips of wine. He ordered some terrible red, and you know how I’m not a big fan of reds.”

“Only C?tes du Rh?ne.”

“That’s the one! I couldn’t remember the name.”

There’s another long pause before Ryan breaks it. “I’ll pick you up in ten?”

“I don’t want to put you out.” I already feel weirdly guilty for being on this date. The last thing I want to do is make him come pick me up from it.

“What you’d really be doing is putting me out of my misery. I’ve been circling the neighborhood for an hour since I called Natalie and convinced her to tell me where you were.”

“So, I should be worried about your stalker tendencies?” I laugh.

“When it comes to you? Yeah, maybe.” He chuckles, but there’s little humor in it.

I press my hand against my racing heart. Fear would be the expected explanation, but I’m feeling something far from it.

The moment I’m secured in Ryan’s car, the tension drains from my body, and I melt into the heated leather seats. He takes my hands, rubbing them between his. In my rush to leave the house before I changed my mind, I forgot gloves and a hat. My fingers feel like popsicles, despite only being outside for minutes.

“Thank you for picking me up. You really didn’t have to.” The words come out choppy through chattering teeth.

He gives me a look that says, I absolutely did. After he’s satisfied my hands are sufficiently warm, he brings us home.

The short ride passes in tense silence, making my nerves spike. The only sounds are the music from the speakers, the rhythmic bounce of Ryan’s knee, and the soft click of my nails against the ring I can’t seem to stop fiddling with. We’re no strangers to amicable silence, but this feels different, charged. And I can’t help but think I’m the one to blame.

It’s not until we’re inside, standing in the kitchen at the counter with glasses of water in hand, that I try to break the awkward silence between us. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“Don’t mention it.” He slides the glass back and forth across the counter between his hands. “So… It was a bad date?” he finally asks.

My gaze drifts down as I shake my head. “It was terrible.” Not only was it awful, but I also didn’t accomplish the reason I went on the date in the first place. “I didn’t even get a picture with him.”

When I look back up, Ryan’s eyes are already on me, his head tilted slightly to one side. “Why would you want a picture with him? I thought you weren’t even into him.”

“It was Natalie and Ada’s idea—to shove a new relationship in Jace’s face, like he did to me. Even if the relationship is just for show.” I feel my cheeks flush, but I admit, “I know it’s immature and maybe a little ridiculous, but… the thought of pissing him off gave me a perverse sense of joy.”

Long moments pass as Ryan stares at me, his expression unreadable. His lips press into a thin line before a huff of air escapes, and his deep laugh spurs my own.

“I didn’t think you had a malicious bone in your body, Sunshine,” he says between bouts of laughter, leaning over the counter as he tries to regain his composure.

I hide my face in my hands, but I shrug.

“So, you want to make him jealous by pretending you’ve moved on?” he asks, no longer trying to hide how much he’s enjoying this.

I admit it’s not my proudest moment, but if I’m going to come clean to anyone, it’s Ryan. He’s stuck with me through all my past questionable decisions, so I doubt this one will be any different. “Not jealous. Unsettled, angry, infuriated; that’s what I’m aiming for.”

“So, this isn’t about you wanting to get back with him?”

“No, of course not,” I say, and it’s the truth.

“And you’re done with the online dating experiment?”

“Definitely.”

He clears his throat. “Well then, who better to get under Knolls’ skin than me? I mean, he already thinks we’re dating. I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” The playfulness fades from his expression, and he looks at me like I’ll be doing him a favor if I agree.

I hold his gaze, searching for doubt, but I can’t find any. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already dealt with enough of my drama.”

“I’m offering, Hannah.”

It would be the perfect solution, wouldn’t it? Faking it with Ryan would be easy. We’re already best friends. How hard could adding some romance to the mix be? Fake romance , I correct myself. Famous last words.

“Okay, but only if you’re sure?—”

“I’m sure,” he says, cutting me off.

“In that case… I have one more favor to ask?—”

“Anything.”

I laugh. “Don’t you want to hear what you’re agreeing to?”

He gives me a wide smile. “Sure, let's hear it.”

I fill him in on the fundraiser this weekend and how I’ve signed up for a plus-one but don’t have one.

“So, you’re asking me on a date?” he asks, and somehow his smile grows wider.

“A fake one,” I clarify, my blush spreading down my neck to my chest. I must be as red as the glass of wine I had earlier.

His lips dip for a second, but he quickly recovers. “I’d be honored to be your date, fake or otherwise, if you’ll be mine for the Hockey Fights Cancer event.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Sure, that seems fair.”

“Knolls will be there,” he adds. “That gives us only a couple of weeks to practice.”

“Practice? Dating?” My eyebrows rise in surprise. I imagined we’d post some pictures, and that’d be it. Is he suggesting we put on the act in person? Seeing Jace’s face when he sees Ryan and me together would be an added bonus.

“Yeah, if we’re going to sell it, we should practice, right?”

I play with the ends of my hair, thinking it over. It would make sense. Just so we’re comfortable around each other when Jace is watching. “You’re right; practice makes perfect. So, how do we do this?”

He shuffles his feet, takes a gulp of water, and then answers, “Well, in preseason we play games the same as we would a regular season.”

I nod. “So, we should just… act like a couple?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah.” He nods steadily, looking far less confident in his affirmation. “At the very least, when other people are around,” he adds.

“That makes sense.”

“Good, now that we have a plan, c’mere.” He lets out a breath and opens his arms for me.

I make my way around the kitchen island, closing the distance between us, and look up at him questioningly.

He scoops me up and sets me on the counter, bringing us closer to eye level. Pulling out his phone, he slides into position, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and hugging me from the side. His lips brush my cheek, and without thought, my own lips pull into a smile. I barely register the click of the camera before he pulls back, showing me the picture on his screen.

In the photo, we look… right. Like this is something we’ve done a hundred times before; like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“We look good together,” I murmur, mostly to myself.

“Yeah, we do.” His voice is soft but sure.