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

Sometimes, I wish me and my friends could enjoy a casual lunch together without someone or something ruining it.

We’re sitting in Florentino’s, Kennedy’s workplace, and the on-campus café that sells the best food and drinks that anyone student could want. I’m pretty sure Ken is two more shifts away from getting fired because even though we’re in the middle of the lunch rush, she’s taking her break now, chatting away like she doesn’t have a job to do.

“I think you should just fuck him,” Kennedy says, shrugging.

“We’re barely even friends, Ken, no.”

“Friends can fuck,” she argues, shrugging again. Scarlett and I exchange a glance and then look at her. “Come on, don’t try to act like you haven’t thought about it. Friends with benefits situations totally all work out.”

“And you’re basing that analysis off experience, right?” Scarlett asks, smiling smugly. We both know that Ken isn’t as sexually active as she wishes she was. She loves to give us sex advice but will never take it for herself. Which is a shame because she’s one of the most stunning people I have ever met, and if she gave any guy the time of day, they’d be falling at her feet.

“I’m basing it off vibes,” is Kennedy’s response, looking at me. “He asked you out on a date. He’s clearly so into you.”

The he she’s talking about, of course, is Miles.

I think they’re more interested in whatever it is that’s going on than I am. I think he’s a good guy, and the date was really sweet, but I don’t have the mental stability for a crush or a relationship. Liking people from afar has been my go-to response to anyone of the opposite sex since Augustus, and I really don’t want to think about that right now.

“And you’re into him,” Scarlett adds.

“I’m…” I fight for the words because I can’t lie to them and say I don’t find him attractive. That would be a crime against humanity. “I’m indifferent.”

“Indifferent means you want him to see your lady parts and you want to see his,” Kennedy says, bouncing in her seat.

I give her a pointed look. “I want to see his lady parts?”

She scoffs. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Ken, I don’t know what you mean. Please enlighten me.”

She huffs, folding her arms against her chest. “Scarlett, can you take over? She’s being difficult, and I’m clearly the only one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“She’s also right here,” I say.

“She’s also talking about herself in third person,” Scarlett says before she turns to me. Her eyes sparkle as she reaches out and grabs my hand. “Okay, Wrenny baby, what’s the issue?”

“There is no issue. You just think any guy who pays attention to me wants to get into my pants,” I say, trying not to laugh. The faith these girls have in me and my ability to casually hook up with someone is admirable.

“That’s because it’s true. Have you looked in the mirror?” Scarlett says, shaking her head. “Look, you think he’s a cutie, he thinks you’re a cutie. Ken and I both vouch that you get some sort of dick that isn’t a dildo so you can stop being such a grump.”

I gasp. “I am not a grump. I’m a delight.”

“A delight?” Kennedy snickers. I narrow my eyes at her and then to Scarlett, who is nodding in agreement.

“Yes, I am an absolute joy to be around,” I say. No one has ever outwardly said I’m a delight, but I can feel it radiating off the energy I put into the universe. Most of the time…

“Yeah, when you’ve had some chance to work off your energy. When you’re a bundle of nerves and anxiousness, you’re snappy. Like you have been all day,” Scarlett says. I groan. “Give me some reasons why sleeping with him is a bad idea.”

“Because he’s him. He’s a popular hockey player. Everybody wants him, and if people see me sneaking around with him, it’s just going to draw attention to me, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“Wren, you love attention. You forced us all to enter every high school talent show just so they could call our names out and we’d walk out to the intro to ‘Crazy in Love.’”

“Because we’re amazing performers if we put our minds to it,” I argue. High school Wren was convinced we could be pop stars, and I saw nothing in the way to stop us.

“We were horrible dancers,” Scar says, shuddering.

“Well, I’m sorry I believed in our collective talent,” I grumble. They both laugh, shaking their heads. “Look, I just don’t see how getting involved with him physically is going to do anything good for me.”

“Getting your brains fucked out of you by Miles Davis isn’t something good? People would pay to kiss his feet, Wren. You do know just how big of a deal he is, right?” Scarlett explains.

“That brings me back to my first point. It’s just going to draw unnecessary attention to me and give me more stress than I need.”

“You’re no fun,” Kennedy mumbles. She sulks, and I don’t have the energy to tell her that she can stop trying to live vicariously through me.

I’ve not been with anyone since Augustus, and the prospect of hooking up with anyone casually is terrifying. Even when we broke up, it had already been a few weeks since we had sex. He refused to sleep with me during competition season because of some stupid superstition he has and that only led to more friction in our relationship until it blew up.

Scarlett’s eyes slowly lift to mine, and a fire lights within them. “This is perfect.”

“What is?”

“You can use him.”

“I’m not you, Scar, I don’t use boys for the shits and gigs.”

“Well, you should. It’s really fun,” she mumbles. Scarlett laughs like an evil genius whose favorite pastime is torturing boys for fun. “Anyway, what I’m saying is you could date him, and maybe that way, people will be focusing on the skating team again. Just use him for a bit of fame and drop him when the showcase is done.”

I stumble over my words at her suggestion. “I’m not going to lie to him.”

“Fine. Tell him or don’t tell him you’re going to use him,” she concedes. “Honestly, I’m sure he’ll take it as a compliment.”

Kennedy’s eyes widen as she leans forward on our tiny table. “That plan is genius. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Maybe because you should be thinking about things like, I don’t know… your job!” I cry, keeping my voice as quiet as possible. It seems like I’m the only person who cares if Kennedy gets fired or not.

She waves me off. “It’s fine. Grace can survive on her own for five minutes.”

“You’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour, Ken,” I mumble.

“Whatever.” I narrow my eyes at her, and she sticks her tongue out. It’s like being best friends with a child. “So, are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

The idea doesn’t sound bad at all. I’m already having a fun time hanging out with him, so it wouldn’t be hard to pretend to like him. I’m not an actress by any means, but getting the attention out of it would be good. My mom has been calling me non-stop over the past week, and I’ve been avoiding her like the plague. Not like I have much choice now though. I’m supposed to be going to see her for a “check-in” when I leave the girls.

I’ve spent the rest of my time in the gym, at the rink, or in the library. They’re the only three places I go to nowadays. I can’t even remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep without having to tire myself out by working too hard.

Trying to think of a plan to get people interested in me and the team has not been working out very well. We had a team meeting last night at Madelyn Briar’s house. She called it and said that we all had to do something to raise more awareness for the team and get people interested. I was there for three hours, and the best we came up with was a bake sale. I wasted three hours of precious reading time for a bake sale.

We’ve not been able to come up with any solutions, and trying to focus on classes as well as all of this isn’t helping. I need to do something about it, and quick.

“Well, as long as you don’t go all Millie Trainor on him, you should be fine,” Kennedy says.

“You always blurt out names like I’m supposed to know who these people are.” I groan, pushing my head into my hands.

“Wren, we’ve been going to this school for a year, and you don’t know who some of the most talked about students are, and it shows,” she argues.

“Why would I spend my time gossiping about people I don’t know?”

“Because it’s fun?” Kennedy stares at me, and I stare back. She rolls her eyes. “Millie catfished her boyfriend for three years in high school, and he only just found out now thanks to Mason Greer.” I give her another blank look, and she sighs. “He’s the creator of that gossip page on Instagram. They have a bunch of accounts for different cities to expose couples and just post about drama that doesn’t involve them. It’s like TMZ. And, no, I’m not explaining who TMZ is.”

“That much I can understand, thank you,” I say dryly.

“Anyway, as long as you’re upfront with him about the terms and conditions, you should be fine. If anyone gets a whiff of this beyond the three of us and Miles, even if you’re just thinking about it, it’ll be used as an excuse to expose you,” Kennedy explains. My eyes widen. I don’t like the sound of that. “Again.”

“I wasn’t ‘exposed’ with regionals,” I say, knowing exactly what they’re referring to. My fall on the ice was filmed like the competitions usually are, and someone posted a clip of it online. I’ve been more careful about what I post and who I share my account with since it happened, but the only thing it did was make me a laughingstock for a few weeks and push people even further away from the skating team. “Well, thank you for that insight, Kenny girl. I’ll think about it.”

“Well, you should probably think quickly because he’s right here,” she says. The words fly out of her mouth, and before I can even register them, she’s beaming up at Miles as he stands by our table. Of course, he’s here right now. Kennedy’s smile doubles in size. They haven’t seen each other since the party, and I planned to keep it that way. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea and think we’re the kind of friends who have friendship groups merging together. “Hi!”

Miles’s smile is all confidence and ease as he says, “Hi. It’s Kennedy, right?”

She beams, holding out her hand for him to shake it. “Wynter, like the season but with a ‘Y.’”

Miles nods, turning to Scarlett. She sits up straighter, if that’s even possible—she has the posture of a ballerina—holding out her hand to him. “Scarlett V⁠—”

“Voss,” he finishes, shaking her hand. “Trust me, you don’t need an introduction. You and your entire family are millionaires. And I’m sure you remember me from when you were fooling around with Jake.”

She beams with pride at the “millionaire” part before scowling at the mention of Jake. “Yeah, I do. I don’t remember you being this polite.”

“Well, turning over a new leaf and all. Really trying to impress this girl,” he says, turning to me. His entire face lights up, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh. I didn’t see you there.”

“Bet you didn’t.”

He grins. “How are you?”

“I was good until you showed up,” I lie.

He frowns, taking the spare seat on the table next to me and Kennedy. “Let’s not do the whole song and dance.”

“What song and dance?” I ask, pretending to be more interested in the tea in front of me.

“You pretend to hate me; I pretend to not be turned on. It’s our thing, Wren.”

“Right.”

“We were just talking about you, actually,” Kennedy says.

Miles gasps, looking around at the three of us. “You were? How sweet of you to talk about me to your friends. I haven’t got a text back from you all day.”

I roll my eyes. “I spoke to you last night.”

“And I texted you again this morning,” he argues. I stare at him. He stares back at me. “I’m clingy, okay?”

“I can tell.”

We stare at each other, talking with our eyes. His face is puzzled but amused, searching my face for something as the crease between his eyebrows deepens. He’s frustrating me just from the fact that I can’t get inside his head.

What are you doing? I’m trying to say.

I don’t know, he would say, but you’re staring at me.

You looked at me first, I’d retort until we’re in an intense staring contest.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and he clamps it shut.

Kennedy whistles, pushing out her chair from the table. “Well, I better get going, you know, to my job.”

“Oh, so now you want to go,” I mumble as she scrambles to her feet, rushing behind the counter. I look at Scarlett, and the traitor is packing her notebook back into her bag. “Scar, seriously?”

“Yeah, I’ve got, uh, business millionaire duty to attend to,” she says. She’s the worst liar I’ve ever met in my life. She slings her bag over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

I flash her a look, whispering, “Don’t leave me,” to which she responds, “Play nice.”

Miles hooks his foot around the leg of my chair, pulling me impossibly closer to him, and it takes all that I am to pretend not to be affected by his proximity. Not only is he easy on the eyes, but he also smells good. He’s got that signature man scent, all woody and earthy like he bathes in it.

I hate it.

He drops his face into his hands. “And then there were two.”

“Do you get some weird pleasure out of ambushing me?”

“Do you get some weird pleasure out of me ambushing you?”

“No.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure him out but I get nothing. “Why do you always do this? You’re making me jittery.”

“How? I’m not even doing anything.”

“You’re here, in my safe space. That is you actively doing something.”

He holds his hands up in defeat, the goofiest grin on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you claimed the campus café as your safe space. Should we rename it Wren’s Café so no one else walks in?”

“If it keeps you out, why not?” He smiles, and I smile too, and it’s like all the ice around my heart is slowly being thawed. Just like that, we’re back in this weird friendly flirty thing I have no clue what to do with. “So… any solutions to your problem, or are you still warming up the bench?”

“For your information…” He trails off, drumming his fingers on the table. I can’t help but notice how good they look too. They’re not chubby and dirty like a lot of men’s fingers are. They look strong and long. His knuckles are a little red, and I can imagine that his fingertips are calloused. “Yes, I am still warming up the bench. You?”

“We tried to have a meeting with the team, but they’re all useless. I thought the hockey players were the ones with talent and no brains, but it turns out it might be us.”

Miles crosses his arms against his chest, shaking his head. “This clearly isn’t our year, Wrenny. We should just make out and forget about it.”

“Why is making out always your first option?”

“Why isn’t it your first option?”

“You have a habit of doing that, you know?”

“Doing what?”

“Flipping every question I ask you back onto me,” I explain, trying to stare him down, but it doesn’t work. “It’s annoying.”

“You’re annoying,” he retorts. I blink at him, and he sighs, shaking his head. “You’re not annoying. I don’t know why I said that. You’re gorgeous.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “You know, Scar and Kennedy actually suggested something earlier….” I trail off, waiting for him to lose interest or tell me to continue. He does neither. He just continues looking at me, so I say, “They think it will help me out if we pretend to date each other. I know how weirdly obsessed people are with you. I mean, I’ve gotten at least half a dozen side-eyes since you sat down with me, so everyone clearly thinks you’re a big deal. I know it’s stupid, and you don’t have to agree to it but⁠—”

“I’ll do it.”

I frown. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“That was rude of me, but it doesn’t matter. If it’ll get you to stop ignoring my texts and we can hang out more, I’ll do it.”

“I’ve been busy,” I say.

I don’t know why I’m being defensive about it, but I don’t like the thought of him thinking I’m actively ignoring him. I get swamped easily with homework, and my schedule is tight with classes and practice. I don’t even get to see my best friends as often as I’d like, and I live with them. I’ve always felt like I owe people explanations as to why I always have to cancel plans with them at the last minute. Most of the time, they just disappear from my life completely and I never get a second chance. Not with Miles. He’s fucking determined. It’s refreshing, actually.

“Look, we’d only have to do it for a few weeks until the showcase at the end of December. I know you might not be getting much out of this, so I can help you train more and help with your classes if you want,” I explain.

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms against his chest. “No offense, but how are you going to train me? You’re barely five-five.”

“For your information, I’m five-seven, and height has nothing to do with physical strength, genius,” I mutter. “You saw me on the rink the other day. I get access to the rink early because of my mom, which means an extra three hours of practice before Darcy even steps foot into the building. I take that shit seriously. I don’t mess around with my diet or my training. I’m committed to my sport, Miles.”

He studies me for a moment, probably to see if I’m joking, and he knows I’m not. I’ve always taken skating seriously, even when I feel like I’m slowly falling out of love with it. With my mom’s expectations to always be great, I’m determined to prove her right.

“Huh.” Miles lifts his chin up, grinning. “I think your friends might be onto something.”