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

“You guys need to get out so I can sterile the environment before she comes over,” I shout for what feels like the hundredth time.

I knew it was a mistake letting the guys come over tonight. Usually, Friday nights are chill here with me, Xavier, and Evan. But for some reason, Xavier decided to invite Harry and Greyson over too. They’ve been playing on the PlayStation for the last three hours, none of them ready to tear away from the screen just yet. I clean around them as they make more mess every time I pick something back up.

“So, are you going to tell us who this mystery girl is?” Grey asks through a mouthful of mini pretzels as I pick up an empty chip packet from next to him.

“You’ll know soon enough,” I say, moving into the kitchen. They continue shouting over the game and at each other. If I wasn’t so stressed out, I would join them. There is nothing I love more than playing a heated game of FIFA.

“It’s Wren Hackerly,” Xavier explains loudly. I shoot him a look through the open kitchen. He shrugs.

I haven’t told Xavier about the plan yet because I feel like that’s something Wren and I need to talk about first. But it seems like her friends already know so what would be the harm? I know I’m not telling any of the other guys. That’s for sure.

“Wait, Ms Hacks’ daughter?” Harry asks in his thick Australian accent which I still haven’t gotten used to.

He’s a year younger than us but he’s a ridiculously good player and strangely smart so he was able to get into NU early. It’s kind of weird having him on our team but all the girls love him, so we have to put up with his obnoxiousness. I walk back into the living room, inspecting the area before nodding.

“How does everyone know who she is? I feel like I’ve only really seen her recently,” I say, trying to make sense of it.

“Because you’ve been nose deep in bourbon for the past four months,” Grey laughs, not looking from the screen. I don’t disagree.

After our talk at the café, I haven’t had a proper drink since. I’ve had a few beers throughout the week but nothing heavier than that. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that I’m going to see her later and the idea that I’ll get back in the rink soon.

“I don’t blame you though, she’s hot as fuck. Well, before she got dropped. Since then, she’s been acting like she has a cork up her ass,” Harry laughs, and my chest tightens. I don’t know why I feel so protective over her, but I do, and we aren’t even fake dating yet.

“Chill. Don’t talk about her like that,” I bite out, my voice rough. He turns to me and shrugs.

“Sorry, mate,” he apologises.

I sit across from them and pull out my phone. I need to speak to her before I lose my mind. I pull up our text chat and fire off my first message.

Me: Hey. Are you on your way yet?

I wait for a while for a response, but ten minutes go by without anything. Slowly, panic begins building in me as I pace around the house, making sure everything looks presentable. She’s either bailing on me or something has happened. It’s not long before all the guys, including Evan, have gone to whatever party is on tonight. Almost half an hour goes by before she responds.

Wren: Fuck.

Wren: I’m so sorry. Omw now.

*

Ten minutes of more panicking later, I’m opening the door to a sweaty and puffy faced Wren.

She’s wearing cycling shorts that are way too short and a sports bra, a duffle bag in her hand. Her blond hair is tied back in a messy ponytail and the flyaways stick to her forehead. She looks gorgeous. My smile widens as she walks in, shooting out apologies and waving her hands around frantically.

I stop in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulder and she properly looks at me. Her breathing is still heavy, and it takes her a while to focus on my eyes. She searches my face, not sure where to look but when she moves to my eyes and then to my mouth, she parts her lips.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was at the gym, and I lost track of time. And, God, I smell like ass,” she rambles, everything merging together into one word. She scrunches her nose at herself, shaking her head. I can’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay. Just take a deep breath,’ I instruct and she does.  ‘Are you okay, though? You seem a little…” I add, giving her another once over.

“Tense? On edge?” I nod sympathetically. “Yeah, my mom has been breathing down my neck all week and I can’t think straight.”

She must have only noticed my hands on her shoulders because she looks at them and then looks at me. I take her in for a few more beats. She gives a sheepish smile and I drop my hands, clearing my throat.

“Do you want to do this another time? We don’t have to right now,” I suggest, letting her follow me into the kitchen. I try and not dwell on the idea that this is the first time she’s been inside of my house and how normal this feels. All the panic and fear that was in my veins earlier has slowly subsided.

“No!” she bursts out dramatically. I raise my eyebrows at her before pouring her a glass of water and hand it to her. She downs it in two gulps and slams it on the countertop. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and sighs deeply. It’s like she’s begging me to fall in love with her.

“Sorry, that was gross. Can I, um, use your shower?”

“It wasn’t gross but yes, you can use my shower.” I grin. “Do you want a quick tour first?”

She nods her head enthusiastically, blowing her hair out of her face. I take her around the kitchen and the living room to the dining area. I avoid Carter’s room and bring her into the den, which I’m lucky I cleaned when I was stressing if she was going to show up at all. I bring her up the stairs and give her a peak into everyone’s bedroom. She laughs at how starkly different Xavier’s rooms is to Evans. Finally, I bring her to my room.

She audibly gasps as she enters. My room is one of the biggest in the house because I was lucky enough to get first dibs. Each wall is painted dark grey, filled top to bottom with movie and hockey posters. My dresser is stacked with books and sports magazines that I’ve hoarded over the years. I was smart enough to empty out most of my mini fridge and fill it with age-appropriate drinks.

“Did you clean this just for me?” she whines sarcastically as she walks over to my pile of books. She looks at them for a minute, running her hand across the hardbacks before turning around, leaning against them.

“This is actually the only room I didn’t clean. Everyone knows that a clean room means a clear mind,” I admit truthfully as I stalk closer towards her. Her breath hitches as I tower over her, her green eyes staring into me.

“Hmm,” she murmurs, something getting caught in her throat. It dawns on me that this is the first time we’ve been alone in private, and it turns my thoughts irrational. Impulsive. I brush the hair out of her face, my hand barley contacting her forehead, but she tenses.

“Are you surprised?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse and scratchy. She backs up a little, making the dresser shake as she braces her hands at both sides of her.

“Actually, yes.’

Quickly, she moves from in front of me and slides behind me, so I’m left to stare at the empty space she left. I turn to see her ruffling through her duffle bag, her ass facing me. “Fuck me,” she groans. Believe me, I want to.

I clear my throat. “What is it?”

She turns to face me, her face scrunched up. “I left my clothes in my locker. You’re just going to have to put up with me smelling like sweat.”

“You don’t smell,” I say quietly. She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “You can just wear something of mine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to, like, invade your personal space and stuff,” she mumbles, looking through her bag again before dropping it. I’m already looking through my drawers before I reply.

“Yes, Wren, it’s fine. You can invade my personal space whenever you want as long as you let me invade yours.”

She snorts from behind me. ‘That doesn’t seem like a very fair tade,’ she mumbles.

I return to her with a towel, a white faded tee shirt and some shorts. She picks them up and gives me a smile. I point to the door in the corner of my room. “The bathroom is through there.”

She nods and makes her way to the door. I sit down on my bed with a thump, dropping on my back at all the sexual frustration in my body. I drag my hands down my face, sighing.

“I don’t usually do this…” she says softly. I sit up to see her with her hand on the handle but her body facing me.

“What? Shower at your fake boyfriend’s house?”

“Yes, but I mean I’m usually more put together than this,” she laughs, practically grimacing at herself.

“It’s okay, Wren. You’re making me feel better about my own chaotic-ness.” 

She smiles and slips into the shower.

*

Letting Wren shower here was a bad idea. It was an even worse idea letting her borrow my clothes because she looks so fucking hot right now. She had a clean pair of her own shorts in her bag so she slipped them on along with my shirt which clings to her body in some places which haven’t dried properly, and I can see through it. Right through it. She walked out with her arms across her chest, the shirt falling halfway down her thighs and told me not to laugh. I couldn’t laugh even if I wanted to with how hard I am. When she sat on the bed next to me and I was smart enough to put a cushion on my lap.

“No one can know that this is fake other than your closest friends,” Wren concedes, writing down a rule in her notebook.

“Agreed. I only trust Xavier to keep quiet about it,” I reply. “I’m assuming both Kennedy and Scarlett already know.”

“Yep,” she beams, popping the ‘p.’

We agreed that we’ll do the whole fake dating thing until her showcase at the end of December which gives us just under two months. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll re-evaluate to prepare for my first game. My first real game for the season isn’t until January so I have plenty of time to convince Coach to let me back on the team.

“Next thing is family. Do you want to meet each other’s parents, or should that be ruled out?”

I feel my body stiffen and I shrug, not sure what to say. “Why don’t we come to that when the time comes?”

“Okay, but my mom has asked me a million questions since I accidentally told her. And my dad is going to be very interested. That’s just how he is. Are you okay with that?” Wren asks wearily, watching for my reaction.

“That’s fine. The last time we spoke she was close to kicking me out so I’m sure she’s going to love that I’m dating her daughter,” I say sarcastically, pulling her notebook into my lap, adding something next to her second rule. She throws a cushion at me, not finding my joke funny.

“Moving on,” she mumbles softly. “We should go out two times a week and have one sleepover, just to show that it’s more serious than casual sex. You can come to mine, and I’ll come here some weeks. We don’t have to stay in the same bed, obviously. If we go to parties, we need to attend and leave together to give no one any reason to speculate that something is off.”

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” I reply, not knowing what else to do.

She’s been taking the handle on this part of the plan, I’ve just been agreeing to everything, trying not to look at her breasts. It’s even worse that she asked for the air con to be put on because I can see how hard they are under the chill.

“What about PDA?” I say, thinking with my dick. She continues typing in her phone, not looking at me. I pull my focus from her legs to her face.

“What about it?”

“Is it going to be a problem?” I ask. She doesn’t make a noise or move as if she’s even heard me as she continues writing. “Okay, so I’m just going to assume that making out, hand holding, ass grabbing and anything up to second base is on the table.”

That gets her attention. Her head shoots up, her cheeks dark red. I can’t help but smirk to myself.

“Only if absolutely necessary,” she breathes, pulling down the shirt further over her thighs. ‘And we shouldn’t show any displays of affection when we’re alone.’

I ignore her last addition as she writes it down. “Shouldn’t we kiss once before so we know what we’re doing?” I ask.

I rest my hand on her bare knee tenderly and I feel her tense beneath me. She closes her eyes and opens them again before placing her hand on mine. She lets out a noise between a groan and a laugh as she takes my hand off her knee.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” she asks, mockingly, titling her head to me.

I nod. Adding,  ‘Multiple,’ with a grin.

She grimaces. “Then we should be fine.”

I lay down, throwing my forearms across my face. Well, that plan didn’t work out. Which, I’m partly glad for because I don’t think I would be able to stop if her lips came anywhere near mine. I hear her shuffle on the bed, I open my eyes slightly and she’s sitting next to my head.

Her legs are crossed beside me so I can see the slither of her black shorts. I take a deep breath and close my eyes again, praying my dick isn’t as hard as it feels. She continues talking over the plans as I drift in and out of consciousness, mm hmm-ing and nodding in response. I feel her soft hand on my forehead, stroking gingerly, and my eyes shoot open at the gentle contact.

“Sorry. I, uh, I thought you were sleeping,” she whispers. She bites her bottom lip as I shake my head softly. “Okay, my last and most important rule.”

I lean up on my elbows, looking at her under tired eyes. I could get used to this: opening my eyes and seeing her there in my shirt, looking down at me with whatever serious expressions she has now.

“Shoot.”

She waits a second, almost afraid to say it. As if speaking her next words have been the only thing holding her back.

“Rule number six: If things get too real for either one of us, we have to tell each other,” she explains finally. ‘I mean real feelings other than attraction. It could mess up the plan.’

“Worried you’ll fall in love with me, Wren?” I tease. A wicked grin spreads across my face when her cheeks heat up.

“It’s you that I’m worried about,” she says back without missing a beat. I grumble and she laughs, pushing my head gently so my elbows buckle, and my head hits the pillow.

I hate how right she is. One sultry look from her and I would completely devour her. If she wasn’t so committed to keeping our friendship purely a friendship, I would have grabbed her waist and pulled her into me by now and let her straddle me. I shake my head to get out all of the fantasies.

“And what about your side of the deal?” I ask, after staring at her for too long, finding my ceiling more interesting.

“You’ll come to the gym with me whenever you have time. Then we’ll figure out a good food plan and I’ll do some of my own research on hockey training in the meantime,” she says.

“Sounds good. It’s Sophia Aoki’s birthday party next weekend so we could go to that as our first public outing,” I suggest but as soon as I said the word ‘party,’ she groaned. “What? Don’t tell me that you hate parties.”

“I hate the feeling of being drunk and I hate being around strangers who are,” she admits with a shudder.

“Well, if you want this to work, we’re going to have to go to a few parties,” I challenge.

“Is that all you do, Miles?” she asks, leaning into me from above. I swallow. Hard.

“When I don’t have any important games coming up, yes,” I admit.

“Why?” she questions, genuinely curious.

“Because… it’s fun. You should try it sometime if you even know what fun is.’

‘Oh, I know what fun is,’ she bites back.

‘Oh, really? What do you do in your spare time?”

“Skate. And when I’m not doing that, sleeping,” she says, her voice suddenly sounding miles away.

I don’t know when we got so close and when she started to touch my hair again but we both haven’t made a fuss. She’s had this stress in her face since she got here but it’s finally seemed to smooth out. It seems like she needs this more than me. Her soft hands graze my forehead and then push into my hair. What the hell do you use in your hair? I hear her mumble, almost angrily.

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” I say quietly when I remember we were just talking.

“It isn’t,” she says ruefully. We sit like this for a minute or two before she moves her hand. “I should go home. It’s getting late.”

“Okay,” I get out quickly before I ask her to stay. She picks up her duffle bag, but she doesn’t move. She just stands, chewing on her bottom lip, looking at me. “I hope you feeling better, soon.”

“What?” she says after a while, as if I caught her in a trance.

“You said your mom was breathing down your neck. That you were stressed. I just think you should take a break or something.”

She shakes her head with a laugh. “There’s no rest for the wicked,” she says, her smile twitching. “This helped, though. Thank you, Miles.”

“Anytime.”