Falling: A Fake Dating College Hockey Romance (North University Book 1)

I’ve spent the better half of two weeks practicing non-stop. Maybe I’ve started to go delirious since I’ve not been eating well, and all my days have become one big cluster. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself falling on the ice again, and I can’t get that image out of my head.

I need to get it out of my head.

I know I’ve been distant with Miles since that night at the bar, but I had to. After having a few days off to hang out with my friends, I needed to go back to skating every day. It was fine when they encouraged me to take a break when the showcase was months away instead of tonight.

These showcases are not heavily graded, but they’re for fun to lead up to the real competitions and can sometimes reflect my final grade. In a way, it’s good practice to be in front of an audience before the holidays. This way, if people turn up here, they’re more likely to turn up to the real events. Darcy says it’s vital to do things for fun in between comp seasons, and I usually enjoy them.

But nothing is ever fun with my mom. When it comes to skating, the steady relationship we’ve built over the years turns into something a lot more serious. She gets back into her coaching mode and forgets to be my mom.

“Good luck today.” I hear a voice from behind me as I walk toward the locker rooms. All I want to do is get the smell of sweat off me before indulging in my pre-skate ritual before the showcase later. For a second, I think it’s Miles, but when I turn around, I see him.

Augustus Holden.

I have not missed his face at all. He’s a few inches taller than me, a typically uptight Russian with dark-blond hair and scarily sharp cheekbones. He’s attractive in a way he shouldn’t be. It’s almost unfair. It’s just my luck that I see him before my performance.

I’ve hardly seen him around since the party, and I’m glad. All he does is mess with my head and try to convince me that I’m not as good as I was when we first started skating together. If we’re no longer a duet, I don’t need to put up with his pesky comments and his blows to my self-esteem. I like to think I’m stronger than that, but here he is, walking right toward me, and I’m momentarily frozen.

“What?” I ask after I compose myself.

“I said, good luck. We both know you’re going to need it,” he says as he towers over me, that smug as fuck smirk on his lips. My back presses against the wall, trying to put some space between us, but he moves in closer.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” I retort. I don’t know why I’m even entertaining this. We rehashed what happened at regionals for weeks, and he’s still refusing to believe that it was his fault that I fell. “We both know that you messed up our routine on purpose.”

“Amelia, that’s not what happened, and you know it. I told you I didn’t want you anymore, and you couldn’t take it. It’s not my problem you let your feelings get in the way of the performance.”

“I don’t give a fuck that you dumped me. I care about the way that you handled it, you moron,” I shout, frustrated. “You could have done it in any way, but you wanted to mess with me for whatever reason, and it just reflects badly on the both of us.”

He snickers. “Seems to me like you’ve been better off.”

“You know what? I have been.”

“You sure? I saw you at practice last week. You could hardly stand straight,” he mocks. I had one bad morning amongst the chaos Austin has caused. One.

I curl my hands into fists and take a deep breath before shoving him in his chest, but he doesn’t move much. “Go fuck yourself, Augustus.”

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he snarls, leaning further into me as his expensive cologne invades my senses. “I know you like to watch when I get myself off.”

I have the urge to tell him that I was only into that because it made him feel better after all the times he went down on me with no result. I take in another deep breath, and I meet his icy-blue eyes and whisper between pushes at his chest, “Fuck. You.”

I didn’t even realize there was someone else in the hallway until I saw Miles’s tall body next to me, towering over Augustus.

“Wanna say that louder, baby? I don’t think he heard you,” Miles says, turning back to wink at me before blocking Augustus from my view as he pushes him, and he stumbles back.

Is it just me or has the temperature climbed up in this hallway?

Augustus laughs incredulously, looking at me from the side of Miles as he points at him. “This is your boyfriend? The hockey player with a god complex?”

I nod.

Augustus gives Miles a once-over, snickering like a child. There must be something that I’m missing because my fake boyfriend is gorgeous in comparison to Augustus. No matter how irritating he can be.

“Got a problem with that, Gus?” Miles asks, and I can literally see the blood drain from Augustus’s face. Calling him “Gus” is like poking a bear, and I’ve never known why it bothers him so much. If they were to fight right now, my money would be on Miles. Augustus is tall, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Miles. He has a different kind of strength. He’s impossibly tall, but he’s broad too, which Augustus isn’t.

“Not at all,” he bites out, shaking his head before sauntering off down the corridor. I let out a real breath of relief this time, and Miles turns around to face me.

I immediately burst out laughing. This is why Augustus couldn’t take him seriously. Hell, even I can’t. Even though this guy oozes sex, he also has poor fashion choices. His T-shirt has “I ♥️ my girlfriend” written across it in bold letters.

“Come here,” he says over my hysterical laughter. I do just that. I walk into his open arms and wrap myself around his middle, falling into his lavender smell. His arms feel like coming home after being away for years. He rubs his hand down my spine reassuringly. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Better now,” I muffle into his shirt.

“Good.”

I give him one last squeeze before pulling apart from him as he catches both of my hands, beaming at me. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m glad I was here. Someone needed to put him in his place,” Miles says.

“I could have dealt with him on my own.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“But I could have.”

He grins. “I know.” I stare at him because I know it’s coming. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“Miles.”

He laughs. “We’re a team now, remember? Me and you?”

I nod solemnly, but I can’t hide the smile that’s on my face. “Me and you.”

He smiles back at me, letting go of my hands. “The show’s starting soon, so I’ll let you get ready.”

I nod. “Thank you, Milesy. I appreciate it.” He smiles at me again before nodding to the locker rooms, urging me to go.

I appreciate you, I want to say, but the words get stuck in my throat. In some way, I feel like he already knows that.

I keep my composure when I get out my black-and-emerald outfit in the locker room. I stay calm when I take off my leggings and sweatshirt. I’m fine when I step into the shower, but as soon as the heat hits me, I break down.

I allow myself to cry. I give myself fifteen minutes before I have to suck it up and move on.

I cry out of the pressure, the constant torment of trying to always do my best.

I cry for Austin, knowing that I have to do well in order to tell my mom after the show.

I cry over Augustus’s stupid comment and Miles’s sweet words. Over his hugs and how I could have had more of them this week.

I get out of the shower and put on my costume. I look into the mirror as I apply subtle makeup to my inflamed face. I braid my hair into a bun and secure it with some bobby pins before I head out of the door.

The only pre-skate ritual or superstition I have is making sure the water is hot enough before I go on the ice. As long as I’ve showered, almost scalded my skin with the heat, I’m good to go. I accidentally turned up the heat once before a junior competition, and I won by a landslide. It was the best I had ever performed, and I’ve used a hot shower, some music, and the same hairstyle as good luck ever since.

When I get back into the small arena, people are already starting to fill the area. A lot more people than I thought would turn up. I search the slowly emerging crowd, but I only spot Sophia with a few other girls sitting around her. I can’t see where Miles has gone, and I can’t see my girls either. Before I can worry about that, my mom starts strutting toward me in her dark-blue pantsuit: a black handbag in one hand, and her phone in the other.

“Oh, Amelia. I’m glad I could catch you before the show,” she says frantically as she places her hands on my face, inspecting it. She tilts my face up to the side as she stares into the space between my eyes and underneath them.

“Hello to you too, Mother,” I muffle, as her hands squeeze my cheeks before she drops them. “Coming to wish me luck?”

“Yes, and I need to speak with you afterward.” My stomach drops. Maybe she already knows. Maybe Austin sucked it up and told her herself, saving me the torture of doing it.

“I need to talk to you too, actually,” I say.

She pulls out her phone and scrolls through it, ignoring me as she mumbles to herself. She always gets like this before performances. More jittery and antsy than I am. I call her name to snap her back into reality, but she’s still scrolling.

“Ah, it’s better that we talk afterward,” she says dismissively when she finally looks up at me, her pupils huge. “Remember to stay focused. Stay sharp.”

I nod, and she rushes off to her seat. I look up into the stands, and now, even more people are here. It’s still not as full as it would be at the hockey games, but it’s something. It’s better. I search the crowds and I see them. Miles is standing, no doubt, searching for me too, still wearing that stupid shirt.

When his eyes connect with mine, he smiles wide. I lift up my hand sheepishly and wave. He waves back before tapping on Kennedy and Scarlett’s shoulders and pointing to me. They both get up and wave their hands as if they’re trying to flag down a taxi. I laugh to myself before the lights start to dim and Eva starts her routine.

She’s phenomenal as I watch from the railing, basically drooling. She glides and spins to I’d Like You for Christmas by Julie London, not missing a step or a beat. It’s hypnotizing watching her gracefully work around the ice, and it just reminds me why I love this sport so much. There’s something so addicting about figure skating. Something so incredibly mesmerizing that you don’t want to miss out on a second of it. She finishes with a flourish, and the crowd cheers, and I whoop. I move toward the entrance, knowing that I’m next.

This is it.

They announce my name on the intercom as I glide onto the ice, getting ready in my starting position as Video Games by Lana Del Rey begins.