Page 33

Tobie

“You had a delivery,” Max calls down the hallway as I unlock my door, back from studying with Reid.

She’s stuck her head out of her room, a few doors down from mine.

I frown at her. “What kind?”

Her secretive smile makes me instantly suspicious.

“The surprising kind.” She closes her door.

Vague much.

She has a spare key to my room. I didn’t have to give her one since if I ever lost mine, I could always go to student services for a spare.

I have a spare for hers as well, but we have only ever used the keys when one of us locked ourselves out.

This way, neither of us are locked out of our rooms for longer than it would take to walk a few steps down the hallway.

So Max must know exactly what this delivery is to have accepted it for me.

Still confused, I open my door and walk into a flower store. The heady, sweet scent of roses is nearly overpowering, but it’s so beautiful, I can’t help but grin as I take in the vases of red and pink roses on every single surface.

Five minutes later, my cell phone rings.

I fish it out of my pocket and answer it, still absorbing the unreal sight before me. “Yeah?”

“Are you in your room?” It’s Javier.

“I am. And I’m wondering what I did to deserve this.”

He laughs. “Is that a good thing?”

No one has ever done anything like this for me before.

When we started dating in high school, Marc gave me flowers for Valentine’s Day.

He was never romantic in the way I’d swoon over when I’d curl up in bed with a book.

I thought it was okay, and at the time, it was .

But ever since Javier, Reid, and Caleb entered my life, my relationship with Marc has felt hollow, as if something was missing.

“Why would you do this?”

“Because you deserve it. How does it make you feel?”

Loved.

Cared for.

Wanted.

“You didn’t have to do this, Javier. Marc won’t know about this.”

“Yes, we have a deal, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel special while you’re mine.”

“Oh.”

That is sweet.

The back of my eyelids burn as I touch a satiny rose petal.

“Once you’ve waded through that flower market…” he says with a smile in his voice, “…you should find a meal I had delivered for you as well. I planned on taking you out, but you sounded busy, and Reid has no food in his room other than granola bars, so I can’t imagine he fed you.”

“Uh, no.” I grimace, biting my lip as guilt rears its head at being so secretive about Reid’s paper, even though I promised I wouldn’t say anything.

I go wading, and sure enough, I find a large white paper takeout bag on my desk.

Lorrimers . I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard all about the fancy downtown restaurant.

“I let them know you have Hashimoto’s and to create something that wouldn’t cause a flare. You’ll have to let me know how they do.”

“You did that?” I whisper, the prickling behind my eyes growing more intense.

Opening up about it hadn’t been easy, especially to three guys who were literally strangers I’d agreed to fake date. But I couldn’t keep my thyroid disease a secret when I’ve had flare-ups so bad in the past that I could barely get out of bed.

I have more good days than bad days, but there’s no way I could keep my side of this deal on my bad days, which wouldn’t be fair to them.

“There’s a selection of different salads and dips. Nothing heavily processed. Minimal gluten. They’ve had requests like that before, so this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary when I told them what I wanted.”

He listened so well to the things that could trigger a flare and hurt me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, clutching my phone a little tighter.

“I wanted to.”

That is insanely sweet. Maybe even sweeter than the thousands of dollars he spent filling my room with flowers.

“Javier?”

“Tobie?”

“Where are you right now?”

“If I said I’m sitting on a bench outside your dorm, hoping I wasn’t about to watch you throw the flowers out of your window because you hate them, would that creep you out?”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

I hang up and leave my room.

He’s outside, sitting on bench, holding his phone, just like he said he was.

He gets to his feet as I walk over to him, and wraps his arms around me when I hug him. “Thank you.”

“I did good?” he asks softly.

“You did great.”

He gives me a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

“How’d you know Max had a key to my room?” I peel my face from his chest and peer up at him, puzzling out what’s different about him because something definitely is.

“Your friend saw all the flowers I helped the delivery guy bring up, said you weren’t back yet, and that she’d let me in.”

“Just like that?”

“She said you deserve all the good you can get.”

Thanks, Max. So do you.

I eye him closely because I know Max. “And is that all she said?”

His lips twitch. “She might have said something about my life coming to a painful end if I hurt you.”

I grimace. The only one she hasn’t threatened yet is Reid, and knowing Max, that threat is coming, or it’s already happened, and I just don’t know it yet. “Sorry.”

He shrugs. “She meant well. I wasn’t offended.”

I study him some more.

“What?” he asks, smiling down at me.

“Are you okay?”

His smile freezes. “Why would something be wrong?”

I blush and try not to meet his gaze. “Back in the library, you, uh, had a call, and you left. You said something about your sister. Is she okay? Is that what’s wrong?”

He stares at me for the longest time, and then he pulls me against his chest.

“Javier?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day, but thanks for noticing. Nessa is fine.”

I hug him back. “Do you want to come and share the food with me? You ordered way too much, but I will still try to eat all of it.”

“I’d like that.”

As we walk back to my dorm, I tell him, “Caleb took me to the park.”

“He did?”

“Yep. He had his ass whooped by a bunch of kids, and I think he liked it. I’ll tell you all about it if you want.”

He looks briefly surprised, then one corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. “You know what, I think I’d like to hear all about this ass whooping. You have any photo evidence?”

I shake my head. “Didn’t think to take a picture.”

“That’s okay. I have a vivid imagination.”

Neither of us lasts long in a room packed with flowers. Between sneezes and laughter, we soon gather up the lunch and take it to eat on the bench outside.

When I recommend taking some of the roses to the local hospital so the patients there can enjoy them before the flowers die, he’s not offended. I thought he would be given he spent so much money on them for me.

But he looks pleased and happy at my suggestion. “Yes. Gatinha . Let’s.”

And for what feels like the millionth time since we started this fake relationship, I remind myself that this isn’t real.

So why does almost every moment I spend with these three hockey players feel so real?

“There’s a fair tonight,” Javier says as I’m finishing up the most incredible couscous, mint, fresh pomegranate, and grilled halloumi salad I’ve ever tasted in my life.

“Is there?”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Since I couldn’t take you out for the meal I planned, how about I take you to the fair tonight?”

“ Me !” I squeak. I’ve loved going to the fair ever since my parents would take me to the big county fair when I was younger.

It was always a ton of fun, a long day filled with laughter, too much cotton candy, and fairground rides I would want to ride five times in a row. “Is Marc going to be there?”

It must be in my head because he looks briefly disappointed by my question. “Do you want him to be there?”

I open my mouth to tell him yes. That tonight at the fair, where Javier wins me a big teddy bear, and I cart it around with his arm around my shoulder, would be the perfect opportunity to flaunt our happy pretend relationship in his face.

But I think of how much fun we had eating five-star food from containers on the floor in the one tiny corner of my room, not taken up by flowers, until the pollen chased us to the bench outside.

Three hours passed in the blink of an eye, and I learned so much about him and his sister and the dream he wants but is afraid will cost him his family.

“No,” I admit quietly. “I’d prefer if he wasn’t there.”

His smile is as soft as the kiss he presses on my forehead. “Let’s deal with these flowers, and I’ll leave you to get ready for tonight. I’ll pick you up.”