Fake Dates & Ice Skates: (The North University Series Book 1)

I’ve been trying to think of some way to make it up to Miles for missing his last game. If I wasn’t so stuck in my head, I would have been able to focus on something other than my competitions. I would have been able to be there for him, cheer him on and congratulate him right after his game. The girls said that they didn’t want to tell me because they thought it was best that I didn’t know.

I didn’t expect us to fall back into our old routine so quickly. Its barley been a week since Kennedy’s party, and we’ve been to the gym together every day like we used to. We’re still firing out random question even though I feel like I know him like the back of my hand. And to think that a few months ago, I was so determined to get him out of my life as soon as this fake dating plan worked. Then somehow, I started to fall for him. Hard.

He still makes me want to rip my hair out but all of the other positive aspects of him outweigh the bad. I don’t know how I feel about how easy this all feels. How easily I could slip back into this routine and find it so normal. He feels so safe. Comforting.

So, I’m letting myself have that.

We’ve been so caught up within each other since the party that we’ve been avoiding our upcoming spring exams. Kennedy’s birthday is usually a physical marker to sort out my exam timetable but this year I’ve been thrown of course. For some reason, I’m not as frightened as I was. I’m happy with just existing, no matter how looming the future feels.

After hearing about Miles’ childhood stories about when he used to come here as a kid, I knew that choosing to come to one of Salt Lake’s ski resorts would be the best idea.

I didn’t really think that through.

Although there are remains of the sun still shining through, it’s cold as hell even under my hundreds of layers. It’s worth it to see the sheer joy on Miles’ face when we get out the snowboards. It looked a lot easier in the movies. We struggled and waddled down small hills and bumps, trying our hardest not to fall face first into the snow.

We spend most of the morning on the ski lift to take in the glorious sight beneath us. I’ve not been to one of these places since I was a kid. Getting to see the whole of my city almost covered in snow is one of the rare things that I don’t appreciate enough. Even though my nipples are rock hard under both of my sweaters, I’m still grateful. I push away all the worries that I should be feeling about my exams and instead try and let myself luxuriate in this moment.

After going on the ski lift for the last time, we rush into the insanely cosy café in the resort. It’s a small rustic cottage style building with delicious smelling coffee and pastries. After stiffly walking towards a table, we return to our question game. In the time we were apart this is what I’ve missed the most. Not the sex. Not his face or his body. Not his house or his extremely comfortable bed but this schoolyard game that we play where we can ask each other anything. Almost nothing is off limits as we fire out more questions.

“This is a fun one,” I exclaim, shoving more strands of hair into my beanie. I slide over his phone back to him as I keep on one pair of my gloves. “Are you a gambling kind of person or do you like to take things slow and steady?”

“I took a gamble with you, so yes,” Miles answers, smirking as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate. I frown. “What? I did. You were being difficult with me at the start, and I still went for it.”

“That’s not true,” I say quietly. “I always liked you, kind of, I just chose not to show it.”

“You were really bad at hiding it,” he laughs, throwing his head back. I nudge him under the table. “Maybe if you could control the way you whimpered every time I touched you, I wouldn’t have been able to notice.”

“Whatever,” I say, feeling the heat creep up my cheeks. “I don’t think I gamble enough. I always take the easy road. I want to be more spontaneous, though. Instead of sticking to strict schedules.”

“I think you should,” he suggests before picking up his phone. “I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this. Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

The question catches me a little off guard. Like Austin, I always had a very simple plan for my life: skating. It’s always been that and it probably always will. Being high up on that ski lift made me realise how insanely insignificant we all are. Merely salts of the earth. But I want to see more of that. I need to see more places that aren’t confided in the states.

“I don’t want to stay here, that’s for sure. In ten years, I want to have moved out of Salt Lake, seeing new places, experiencing new things. I can skate and write anywhere,” I say. “I see myself somewhere hot. Tropical.”

“With anyone in particular…” he drawls, leaning forwards into me so I can see deep into his green eyes.

“Maybe,” I smirk, biting my lip. I shrug and he nudges me under the table. “How about you?”

“Honestly? I want to play in the NHL until my bones don’t work anymore and I’m an old grandad with a saggy dick,” he says matter-of-factly. I laugh at his analogy. “But I don’t want to be doing that alone.”

“What do you mean? Xavier has explained his ten-step plan to me, like, a million times.”

“What if I completely loose motivation or if they do?It’s so easy to fall in and out of love with sports. If I stop enjoying it, I won’t be able to play anymore and I won’t be able to do it for Carter,” he says quietly, not fully meeting my eyes.

“Then you can stop. The only person you owe it to to continue playing is yourself. He would be so proud of you, Miles,” I say. I reach my hand out and hold his through his thick gloves.  “You love hockey now, right?”

“More than anything.”

“Then that’s all that matters. You don’t need to worry about if you fall out of love with it eventually. When it happens, you’ll know and you’ll find a way to move on,” I explain, my words not fully reaching the impact I was aiming for. “I don’t think you should worry until it happens. Take it from me.”

“Are we still talking about hockey, Wren?” He chuckles softly, his smile not completely reaching his eyes like the usually do.

“I don’t know anymore.”

We’re caught within another one of those silent moments where it feels like nothing else exists except the substances of our souls. They are the kind of moments where even in an overcrowded café, we’re able to see right through each other. Every time I’m with him, I feel like I’m laying another part of my bare to him and he accepts it with welcoming arms.

“You remind me so much of him.” Miles’ voice snaps me out of the daydream I almost fell into. He is concentrated on the mug in front of him, not braving to meet my eyes.

“Carter?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at me with a soft expression. ‘I think he would have really liked you.”

*

We finally make it back to Miles’ house after freezing our asses off in the cold. His house has become a second home for me. I have way too many clothes here and his bed has started to feel like my own. Waking up here, in his bed, doesn’t make me want to freak out and run for the hills. It makes me want to turn my head into his pillow, breathe in his scent, and scream with happiness. Everything here is starting to feel like home. He is starting to feel like home.

“Can we order food? I’m still hungry,” I sigh, as I grip onto him like a koala while he plays on his PlayStation, his controller resting on my ass.

“You say this every time and then you never choose anything,” Miles groans. I push myself up on my forearms when he throws the controller onto the bed. I roll onto my back, and he immediately comes over me, trapping me in with both his arms at the side of my head.

“I know what I want,” I demand. He tilts his head to the side, an evil smirk playing on his lips. “I want to get Chinese but first…”

I drag out my sentence purposefully as I watch his dark green eyes focus in on my mouth. I drag my tongue across my bottom lip before slowly pulling into my mouth the way he likes it. He lets out a shaky exhale as his face inches dangerously close to mine. His hair almost falls into my face when his lips barley brushes mine as the air around us thickens. His hot breath hovers over me without completely crossing the remaining space between us.

“I want you,” I whisper. The three tiny words barely leave my mouth before his mouth is covering mine in a hectic rush.

On instinct, I reach for the back of his curly hair, pulling him deeper into me. I don’t know what comes over me whenever I’m around him but suddenly I’m so hungry. Insatiable. My vision starts to blur when his tongue coaxes my mouth open, and the warmth hits my throat. I whimper into his mouth as his weight drops onto me. He leans up off me as if he hurt me and quickly wraps his strong arms around my waist and flips us over until I’m straddling him. Miles bites on my lip gently as he pulls away, looking up at me with glossy eyes as he positions himself against the headboard. Both of his hands come around my face, searching me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Wren. Just… devastating,” he breathes, shaking his head in disbelief. My face instantly heats up and I smile into the next kiss, letting my mouth explore his for a second. He starts to pull at the first of my many layers and my sweater doesn’t budge.

“This is very unsexy, huh?” I pout, trying to pull my sweater over my head as well. It gets caught with my other one and Miles yanks on it until I’m free.

“Never.” He starts to pull off his own layers, his clothes getting tangled like mine. I laugh as I try and work his jumpers over his head. His wild hair falls free from the neck of his jumper, and he sighs deeply.

“Why does it have to take so long to get naked?!” I huff, rolling onto my back to work down my jeans and leggings.

“I’m sure a relationship guru somewhere would have a field day with this,” Miles laughs, sitting at the edge of the bed to undo himself of his layers. I look over at his red face and I don’t hide the ridiculous grin that’s spreading on my face.

“I guess we’re peeling back the layers of our relationship,” I beam when he’s in nothing other than his boxers. I climb over to him on the edge of the bed and sit in his lap. I hook my arms around his neck as his hands journey up and down my bare back.

“Your puns are worse than mine,” Miles chuckles, pressing a kiss in between my breasts. I snake my fingers into his hair when an involuntary moan leaves my mouth as he starts to make his way down my chest.

“Yeah, but you love me for it.”

I don’t let time stop when I say it. I don’t overthink every single syllable that just left my mouth. He doesn’t either. He just looks up at me, his mouth on my rib cage, his eyes set in mine.

“Yeah, I do.”

*

After exploring each other’s bodies and eating our food, we shower together before slipping into bed in our underwear. Since we got back together, we’ve spent a lot of time in these moments. The ones where we just look at each other. Like, really look at each other. It would frighten me if I didn’t enjoy it so much. Just looking at him, enjoying him, knowing I have him.

His hands lie comfortably on my waist while I run my hands down his broad shoulders to his back, not saying anything, just completely lost within his comforting presence.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a perfect body?” he whispers out of the silence, and I start to laugh. He brings his face even closer to mine so I can look straight into his eyes.

“What?” He pushes my hair out of my face softly and lets out a laugh of his own.

“I just mean that you fit so perfectly with me. Here,” he explains.

“Oh, so that’s what you like about me. So, you don’t like my personality?” I mock. He hums shaking his head lightly.

“Not really. I like this more,” he whispers carefully. He takes his hand from my waist and runs it down my stomach until he touches me between my legs, lightly brushing the inside of my thigh close to my heat. “Especially the noise you make when I touch you there.”

“What isn’t there to like?” I whisper, my breath getting caught in my throat at the contact of his hand. “About my personality, I mean.”

“You’re so stubborn and you act like you hate me most of the time.” He shrugs, a cheeky grin spreading across his face,

“Well, you know I don’t. Not really, anyway.” I run my hands down his back, pulling him closer into me. “I’m basically naked in your bed. What more do you need?”

“I want you to tell me what you like about me.” He doesn’t miss a beat when he speaks. His eyes suddenly fiery and expectant. I swallow. I try and laugh but it comes out strangled as he keeps his gaze on me.

“Oh, you’re serious.”

Dead serious.

“Would it kill you to say one thing you like about me? Just one,” he pleads.

“Your hair,” I say quickly. He almost jerks back at the sudden quickness in my tone. It was the first thing that came to mind, and it truly is my favourite thing about him. His hair is chestnut brown and wavy. It always smells like coconuts, and it almost melts in my hands anytime I run my hands through it.

“Really? Why?”

“Because I can run my fingers through it. I like it when I can slip my hands between each of your waves, and it feels like you’re melting into me. I like it when it’s the only thing that I can see when you’re between my legs,” I admit, doing exactly that with my hands as he blinks at me. “I like feeling you. Touching you. Sometimes, I feel like I’m so desperate to have you. Everywhere. On me.”

He sucks in a breath at my omission, his cheeks becoming hot with heat. God, what is happening to me? He looks beautiful like this, all flustered. “I would let you do anything to me, Wren. Absolutely anything.”

“I know you would and that scares me a little,” I say laughing. He doesn’t say anything, and it gives me the confidence to continue complimenting him.

“And this,” I say, holding his face within one of my hands. His dark green eyes stare into mine as I trace the space between them down his nose. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I rub my thumb just beneath his eyes as they flutter closed for a second before I run my finger gently over his full lips, studying him. “I like your mouth but I like what comes out of it more. I like it when you talk. When you tell me stories as if it’s the first time you’re telling them How you’re constantly giving me little pieces of yourself. I like how easily your face fits into my hands. Like you were made for me.’

He watches me carefully, almost afraid to speak. I don’t know why I said what I just said. I never say things like this. I love to read about it but saying it out loud always cringes me out. Something has changed within me, but I can’t find the effort to care about it right now. Instead, I press my lips to his cautiously, drawing back at the last second as I catch his bottom lip between my teeth. He smiles softly.

“Is that one nice thing good enough?” I ask against his lips.

“More than enough,” he whispers. “Now I know you don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Miles. Even if I tried to. You are insufferably addictive.”

The rest of the night, we stay mostly quiet. I don’t know what that whole thing was. Something about it felt determining. As if it’s marked a shift in our relationship. Everything I said was so true that it worries me.

It’s well into the night when I feel Miles’ thumb stroking my cheek and my eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep.

“What is it?” I ask sleepily. He waits a beat, opening and closing his mouth. I have to squint a little to make out the faint smile on his lips in the darkness.

“You’re my best friend,” he says certainly. It comes out so quickly that it almost passes as a question. My heart expands like a balloon, and I exhale slowly to let it deflate.

“I don’t know how Kennedy and Scarlett will feel about it, but you’re slowly becoming my favourite person,” I admit. “But don’t read into it,” I add sharply before my eyes shut again, almost letting the sleep pull me under.

“Oh, I already have, Wrenny.”