Weak Side : A Fake Dating Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

My hands dug into my hoodie pocket as I jogged up the stairs to the auditorium, frustrated that Claire’s beat-up Toyota was out front. I wasn’t sure how I felt with her being here, all by herself, after dark. It made me uneasy, which was confusing.

If Aasher were here, he’d make a crack about how I was awfully protective of a girl who wasn’t technically mine, but he wasn’t here, so I was going to tuck away that thought and save it for a rainy day.

The door was unlocked, and the only thing I could hear was loud music blaring through the two doors that I knew Claire was tucked behind. My heart sped a little faster the closer I got to the music, and when I slipped inside the darkened auditorium, my eyes went directly to her gliding across the stage like a graceful angel. There was a single spotlight shining down, and the strands of her brown hair glistened underneath the lights as it was half falling out of her bun that was held together by one of those damn fuzzy scrunchies.

I took a seat in the back, like a first-class creeper, and watched as she twirled and leapt with determination that made her look supple in every step she took. Her chest was expanding in her pale-purple leotard, and the short, curtain-like wrap around her waist flew up and showed off her soft curves that I very clearly remembered touching.

She was elegant, and soft, and all the things I wasn’t used to. My hands dropped to the armrest when the music abruptly stopped, and a ring tone started over the speakers. I followed her defeated steps as she walked over to her phone. She unplugged it hastily, took a gulp of air, and answered it.

Although I was in the back, ready to make myself known, I stopped when I watched the way her shoulders edged up to her ears with stress. Her sweet voice carried throughout the empty space, and I waited.

“Hey, Mom. Why are you calling so late?” Claire’s free hand went up to her mouth, and she nibbled on her thumbnail nervously.

I relaxed back in my seat and began to wonder more about her than before. How did she grow up? What was her family like? Where was she from? I knew that she wasn’t wealthy, and I also knew that there was some tension with her mother from the first time I had eavesdropped on her…which I was doing again. Though, this time was purely accidental. It wasn’t like I was purposefully staying here to gain intel, and it wasn’t like I was sitting in the back of the auditorium during her rehearsal just to be a creeper. I didn’t want to interrupt her in the middle of the dance, and it would be rude to do it now, yeah?

That’s a load of bullshit. But whatever.

“Well, did you use the money I gave you? For the repairs?”

The money she gave her? Was that why Claire worked so much? To give her mom money?

“Well, where did the other half go?” Claire began pacing back and forth, and it was obvious that stress was beginning to propel her steps. Her hand went to her hip, and then it fell abruptly, like she was taking a beating. “Mom, you have to stop relying on them. Please.” There was a pause. “Yeah, I know. Bu—” Another pause. “Things with Chad and me are fine.”

Huh?

My stomach twisted as she flexed her fist by her side and squeezed her eyes shut. Her back was turned to me next, and she ended the phone call with telling her mom she’d send what she could, and although there was a part of me that understood the hardships that some families who weren’t wealthy went through, there was also a part of me that was angered for Claire. Didn’t her mother know how much Claire worked? Didn’t she know that Claire was beyond exhausted? My parents had never asked me for money, and I knew that when I made it in the NHL and began to indulge in things they wanted and deserved, giving back to them, they’d want to refuse.

I was pulled away from my thoughts as the music started up again, and I decided that I’d show my face after she finished her rehearsal. My hands continued to grip the sides of the chair as I watched her work harder than before. Her movements were no longer fluid and graceful but harsh and rushed. My breath was stuck in my chest as I followed her light run across the stage until she ended up in the corner, preparing for something big. I sat up a little straighter in the chair and fisted my hands as I watched in awe as she did some fancy leap in midair like a professional ballet dancer and landed on one foot, seeming a little off balance. Her dance ended a few seconds later, and I immediately knew she was feeling defeated by the way she sat on the floor with her head hung low.

“What am I going to do?” the sentence was a whisper, but at some point, I stood up unknowingly and gravitated toward her as I watched her become overwhelmed with some type of battle in her head.

“You know, you shouldn’t practice when your mind is elsewhere. It usually ends badly.”

Claire’s eyes flung open, and the glossy blue within them was just as breathtaking as that time I fell through the frozen pond out behind my house while trying to perfect my own version of The Michigan. She blinked several times before rolling her right ankle out and evening her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, placing her hands on the floor behind her for stability. I slowly bent down beside her and glanced at her foot, wondering if she was hiding some type of injury, because I swore there was a tinge of pain on her features. 

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s not smart to practice when you’re exhausted?” Or when you have an injury. Or when you’re stressed. 

“I’m not exhausted,” she argued, exhaling a breath. She rolled her ankle again, and I raised an eyebrow, shooting her a look.

Claire’s teeth clamped down hard as she began to stand up on less-than-stable legs. “Whoa,” I rushed, flinging my eyes back to hers. “What are you doing?”

“I need to run through that one more time.”

Claire was still trying to catch her breath and I noticed how her body was shaking with exhaustion. “No, you don’t,” I argued, pulling her back down to the stage softly. My eyes bounced back and forth between hers, and when her bottom lip began to tremble, I felt something chip off inside my chest. She looked down to her lap, hiding her tears.

“Hey,” I whispered, feeling a little panicked. I slipped my thumb underneath her chin and brought her face up so she would look at me. “What’s wrong? Why are you killing yourself up here when you’re clearly exhausted?”

Silence. But with her silence came glossier eyes, and I didn’t like it.

“I can’t—” She blew out a sweet, shaky breath. “I have to get the lead in the spring showcase.”

“It’s that important to you?” I understood the importance of reaching goals, but her tears contradicted the joy she should have been feeling up on the stage. I compared it to my love for hockey, and it just didn’t seem the same to her. Was this infatuation of perfecting her audition a determination to prove herself to someone? To Chad?

“It’s…” She sighed, pulling her hair out of her scrunchie and hastily throwing it back up into a bun. With every flick of her wrist and twist of her hair, I saw the panic rising. “I have to get that role.” She popped up onto her feet and shook out her arms, preparing herself to do another round on the stage.

“Claire.” I stood up alongside her. “You need a break.”

Her arms wafted out with exasperation as she slowly walked to the corner of the stage. My gaze shot down to her slow steps. Was she favoring the right side? “I can’t take a break, Theo! Don’t you understand that I need the money?! I need to get this lead role.”

“Wait, what money?” I asked, following closely behind her and trying to make sense of her rambling.

 She spun around and rushed through her words. “I’ll get a full scholarship for my senior year if I get the lead in the spring showcase. I won’t have to figure out how to pay for everything on top of paying for college. I have a partial scholarship, but a full would be better. I don’t have a wealthy family. It’s just me and my mom, and…” Tendrils of hair fell from her bun as she drifted off into a different direction onstage. I continued to follow her until she was in the very back, nearly up against the wall. “Everyone else just wants it…but no one understands that I actually need it. I work so hard and…”

Claire was ready to take off again, but I stopped her, moving directly in front of her and caging her small frame within my arms. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and she tilted her chin up and stared into my eyes. Her breaths were rapid missiles flying from her chest, and her entire body was shaking with adrenaline. I didn’t even think she noticed that a tear had slipped past her cheek.

“I understand,” I said, staring directly into her eyes. Without the realization of how soft the gesture was, I swiped away a stray tear that had fallen against her skin and kept my thumb on her high cheekbone for a second longer than I needed to. Claire’s tense shoulders dropped slightly, and her breathing had started to calm. “I know what it’s like to need money. Everyone thinks I come from a wealthy family because of my skill on the ice.” I forced out a sarcastic chuckle, glancing away for a second. “In fact…” I paused, making sure this was something I actually wanted to say, but with Claire’s unwavering and sincere gaze peering up at me, I couldn’t stop from giving her a piece of myself I’d never given before. “My parents aren’t even my real parents.”

Her lips parted slightly before the little crease between her eyebrows formed.

“I’m not sure who my dad is.” I dropped my head, but I made sure to keep my hands placed on the wall behind her so she’d stay put. “And my grandparents kicked my mom out when I was young because she was a druggie. They took care of me, and we’ve always just gone with it when people assumed they were my parents. People just chalked it up to them having me later in life. That’s what the media believes, at least.” Silence erupted around us, but to me, it sounded like a bomb. “We’re pretty certain my mother died a long time ago, although it was never really confirmed.” I shrugged, as if the realization didn’t bother me. It did, but this wasn’t about me. “Anyway, there’s a reason I’m telling you this.”

Her voice was smooth and sincere. “What is the reason?”

“When you say no one understands, I do.” I moved a breath closer to her and noticed how her chest expanded with a held breath. “I, better than anyone, understand determination and hard work. I work hard on the ice to reach my goal of getting into the NHL for my parents. Everyone”—I took a moment to remember how she detested me when she first met me—“including you, thinks I’m just your typical selfish jock who wants to be the best at hockey just to make it to the top. But that’s not why. I want to give back to the two people who took me in and saved me. And maybe I want to prove to myself that I’m not that abandoned little kid who only felt safe when they were in control on the ice.” I forced out a chuckle. This conversation had gone way deeper than I’d meant, but there was something about the genuineness of Claire that kept pulling the truth out of me.

Claire’s shaky hands landed on my hips as I continued to cage her against the wall. A wicked dose of desire flooded my veins, but I forced my thoughts elsewhere because there was no way I could disguise touching her any more than I already had with our fake-dating scheme because, right now, we were alone. So very alone. 

“Well, fine.”

All thoughts halted with the tug of my lips. I was confused but amused at the same time. “Fine? Fine what?”

“Fine. You…understand. I guess you and I are more alike than I thought.” There was a pause, and I almost pushed off the wall, putting space between us, but then she continued. “I don’t know if my father was a druggie or what, but my mother made sure to call him every name in the book for abandoning us. She’s never been able to recover—emotionally or financially.” The grip she held on my hips lessened, and she dropped her hands a moment later. “That’s why I really need this role. Money isn’t easy to come by.”

I knew there was more to the situation than she was giving, especially considering the conversation I’d overheard, but instead of getting any more intimate with her, I pushed off the wall and quickly walked over to Claire’s bag on the other end of the stage and threw her phone inside after unplugging it from the speakers. Then, I walked back over to her, shrugged off my hoodie, and pulled it over her head. The amount of confusion on her face was almost as comical as it was seeing how small she looked in my sweatshirt. I spun around and bent down, cocking a grin over my shoulder at her.

“Well? Hop on,” I announced, waiting for her to refuse.

“Hop on?” she asked, looking around for validation from someone.

“It’s either that or I throw you over my shoulder, Bryant. You’re tired.” And babying your ankle. “We’re going back to the room and rewatching that episode that we fell asleep watching the night you ate an entire pizza by yourself. If I don’t figure out how it ends, I’m going to watch it without you.”

I knew she was thinking of a way to get out of going back to our room, and I had a big feeling she’d been actively avoiding being alone with me because something had definitely happened between us on more than one occasion, whether it was all a ploy or not.

“You need rest,” I reminded her.

She thought for a moment, and I turned around and glowered at her. “Do I need to throw you over my shoulder, because I will,” I said, beginning to grow impatient.

She thought about it. The wheels were turning behind her blue eyes, but she eventually gave up, trying to hide that little shy smile of hers. I bit back my own smile and turned around, bending to her level. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and she climbed on like a little spider monkey.

The thought did not escape me that the warmth against my back was from the one layer separating us, but when her soft giggle slid into my ears as I jogged through the auditorium with her wrapped around me, I realized that even if we weren’t actively playing the little fake-dating game that we kept finding ourselves in, I enjoyed her presence. Her laugh seeped into my chest, and although I was only getting a small piece of her, I didn’t want to let go of it.