Logan: An Enemies-to-Lovers Fake Boyfriend Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Hockey Book 1)

As I navigate my way to Riley’s building so that we can go on our date, my head fills with thoughts wondering what her life is like.

What does she do for fun? Does she have lots of friends? Does she have a secret boyfriend that she hasn’t told me about?

Making my way down the gray hallway of her dorm building, I knock on her door. It opens and there she is. Riley’s blond hair is in a wild messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing big round glasses, sweat pants, and a plain white t-shirt (knotted at the waist) showing way more skin than I was expecting from her. I keep my gaze at eye-level.

“Logan!” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “What are you doing here? I told you I was going to be thirty minutes late.”

“I know. But I was already in the neighborhood when you texted me so I figured it couldn’t hurt to swing by and hang around until you’re read. I figured you’re late because you have homework to do?”

She nods. “How’d you know?”

I smirk. “A wild guess.”

She eyes the brown paper bag in my hand. “What’s that?”

I hold up the bag which smells like apples and cinnamon. “I figured you’re probably hungry from studying so hard.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Oh my god, is that a Jarry’s apple strudel?”

“The one and only.”

“Oh my god, my savior!” She grabs the bag out of my hand, opens it, and takes a big whiff. Her eyes practically roll back in her head.

“You’re welcome.”

“Come in,” she says as she pulls the strudel out of the bag and takes a bite. “I was just finishing up. Just a few more things and I’ll get ready.”

I step into her room. There are two beds, one on each side. In between, there’s a desk and a mobile rack of clothing. The desk is covered with books, notebooks, and pens.

“This place is the same size as my kitchen,” I say as I look around.

“Wow, great humble-brag.”

I chuckle. “Sorry. I just didn’t realize you lived in such a cramped place! It’s just like the kinds of places you see in the movies and on TV.”

“That’s dorm life for you.” She takes another bite of the strudel and moans. “Doyouwhatsom?”

She holds up what’s left.

I wave her off. “It’s all yours.”

She licks her lips. “This probably doesn’t fit into your super strict diet, huh?”

“Not really, no. But I’ll live vicariously and watch you eat it.” I smile as I watch her.

“Yeah, because that’s not creepy at all.”

I smirk and look around the room. Even though it’s small, Riley and her roommate have made it very homey. There are twinkle lights around the ceiling and all sorts of pictures and motivational quotes on the wall. I notice that the red and blue painting I bought for her is hanging over one of the beds.

“Nice art,’ I say.

Riley looks up and smiles. “Thanks, a friend gave it to me.”

“So you do consider me your friend.”

“Yeah. And, you know, a fake date too.”

I chuckle. “Right.”

Continuing to look around the room, I look at the rack of clothes. A familiar black, silver and blue garment catches my eye. “Hello, what’s this?”

I get up to investigate further. The colors are unmistakable. It’s a Seattle Blades jersey.

“Oh shit.” She sets the strudel aside and pounces onto my back just as I grab the jersey from the rack. “Give that to me!”

She reaches for the jersey as her legs wrap around me so that I’m holding her piggy-back-style as we engage in a tug-of-war for the garment, but it’s too late. My suspicions have been confirmed.

“Is that—my name and number?” I manage to turn the jersey around and see ‘Drake 13’. “It is!”

“No!” She’s still struggling with me.

“Oh, this is good. Riley Jamieson bought my jersey.” A sense of pride blooms inside my chest. I look back at her guilty, dejected face.

Her body goes limp as she slumps against me, giving up the fight. “I only bought it so I could look more like your girlfriend.”

“Really? Because this jersey was a limited-edition version from when I first joined the team.”

“Ugh.” She slides off my back in defeat. “Fine. You got me.”

I turn to face her. Her face is bright red.

“You’re an even bigger fan of hockey than I thought. And an even bigger fan of mine.” I smirk.

“Yes. I’ll admit it. I like hockey, okay? And I like the Blades. You already knew that.”

I smirk. “And you like me.”

“Oh god, your ego is going to be huge now. Even bigger than I thought it could be.” She rubs her face. “Look, I don’t want you to think I was some sort of sports groupie or anything.”

“I never said you were.” This is too good. I can’t stop smiling. “If you own this, does that mean I’m your favorite player?”

She crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side as she looks at me. “Well, you’ve had some issues over the past few months. And your penalty kill is atrocious.”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to rip my soul apart right after giving me such a beautiful gift.” I hold the jersey to my chest.

She smiles. “You’re not all bad though. I mean, it’s true that I almost had to drop you from my fantasy team.”

“Fantasy team?” The smile creeps onto my face again. “You surprise me more every day, Ms. Jamieson.” I watch her for a moment, tempted to pull her in and kiss her. I have to mentally remind myself that she’s a fake girlfriend, not a real one.

She snatches the jersey out of my hands. As she’s about to put it back on the hanger, I stop her.

“Will you—”

She turns to face me. “Will I what?”

“Will you put it on for me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh lord, I wish you had never seen this.”

“But I did.” I reach over and grab her waist, pulling her close. “Tell me more about how you put me on your fantasy team.”

She puts her hands on my chest and looks up at me with those big gray eyes. Her lips part and close again. For a fleeting moment, I feel like she’s going to kiss me. Instead, her brow furrows.

“What are you doing here?” She pushes me off her. “Our date is not for another fifteen minutes.”

“If you don’t want me to come by anymore, I won’t.”

She bites her lower lip.

“No,” she says. “It’s alright. I don’t mind you coming over. As long as you bring more studel with you.” She smirks as she looks at me, then quickly looks away. “Just give me some warning next time. I’ll put real clothes on.”

“But I like you like this. It’s Riley in her natural habitat wearing the traditional outfit of her people—sweat pants.”

She gives me a dangerous look.

“Kidding.” I put my hands up defensively. “I’ll give you a warning next time. Even though I would love to catch you wearing this jersey one day. Are you sure you don’t want to put it on right now?”

“Yes, I’m very sure.” She pulls away. “Let me finish eating and I’ll get ready for our fake date.”

Resting her elbows on the desk, she bends over, sticking her butt out as she eats the rest of the strudel. As she takes a bite, she looks over at me.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?”

I smirk as I watch her. “I guess having one bite can’t hurt.”