Chapter 5
FEE
“Idon’t know if I like this shirt. Maybe I should wear a different one.” I prop my hands on my hips and survey my reflection with a critical eye.
“You look great,” Enid assures me.
“Seriously, so cute,” Cammie agrees. “But you can borrow something from my closet if you want to change things up.”
Cammie is four inches shorter than me. She fits into everyone’s back pocket, including her boyfriend, Chase.
So borrowing clothes from Cammie means potentially wearing a crop top or capris.
In the spring I wouldn’t think twice about it, but it’s the end of January, so not the ideal temperature for midriff baring in Toronto, however...
“Yeah, maybe?”
“Have at it.” Cammie motions to her closet.
I’m irritatingly nervous about this first fake date.
I don’t know what I was thinking saying yes to this cockamamie idea.
Sure, I get to touch Mac and be close to him and spend time with him, but not because he reciprocates my crush.
Being Mac’s not-real girlfriend will probably go down as one of my least well-thought-out decisions of all time. But I’ll still go through with it.
I pull two cute tops from her closet and change into the first one. “How’s this?”
“Super cute.” Cammie gives me two A-okays.
“You’re not usually this worried about how you look for a house party.” Enid swipes gloss across her pouty lips.
“I know.” I pull the shirt over my head and replace it with option two. I like it best.
“So what’s going on?” Cammie presses.
I prop my fists on my hips. I have to tell them eventually. “I agreed to be Mac’s fake girlfriend.”
They stare at me like I’ve just admitted to adopting a pet walrus.
“His fake girlfriend?” Enid repeats.
I explain what happened during our study session the other night and Mac’s proposal when he walked me back to my apartment. “He just needs a date to the hockey gala and some peace from all the girls hounding him for a date.” And some lessons in boundary setting.
“Right, so it’s not because either of you have a crush on the other,” Cammie says, rather cheekily.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I hang the other shirt and put it away to avoid eye contact.
“Of course you don’t,” Enid mutters.
“We should probably get going!” I head for the hallway, so I don’t have to answer more questions.
Enid and Cammie follow. Chase is meeting us there because he and the guys had a workout.
I tuck my feet into boots, pull on my coat, and leave my toque since Enid is driving tonight, and I only have to deal with the frigid temperatures for the walk across the visitor’s lot.
The blustery wind slaps me in the face the second we step outside. I quickly pull my hood up, tuck as much of my hair inside as I can, and pull the strings, so I look like an acorn. We duck our heads and trudge to the car.
Fifteen anxiety-riddled minutes later, we arrive at the party. A second-year hockey player and his roommates are throwing it. The space is vastly different from Mac’s off-campus house. This is a total bro-pad, complete with gaming chairs and upside-down milk crates as side tables.
Enid passes out mini bottles of hand sanitizer. “I have wipes if they run out of toilet paper, too.”
“That seems likely,” Cammie mutters.
“I’m afraid to see the bathrooms here if this is what the living room looks like.” Something unidentifiable is splattered on the wall. Maybe food? Maybe once-liquid?
Mac spots me from across the room.
My palms grow instantly sweaty and my knees a little weak as he breaks from his hockey buddies to come say hi. All his attention is focused on me as he crosses the room. Every part of my body responds at his approach.
Do I hug him? I want to hug him. I want the warmth of his arms around me. We didn’t even really talk about how we’re supposed to act tonight. Or what the parameters are.
“Hey.” He aims his pretty, dimpled smile at me.
“Hey.” I fight with my hands not to wave since only six inches separate us.
“Hi, Enid. Hey, Cammie.” He nods to the girls.
Cammie can’t help but poke at us. “Hey, Fee’s boyfriend.”
Chase rushes over and wraps himself around Cammie, nuzzling into her neck.
Mac and I both look at them, then each other, and then the floor. I’m irrationally disappointed when he doesn’t follow Chase’s lead.
“I’m grabbing a drink. I’ll find you in a bit.” Enid slides between us and heads for the kitchen.
“Can I get you something?” Mac offers.
“Sure. Yeah.” Maybe alcohol will make this less weird.
Cammie and Chase are already sucking face like they haven’t seen each other in a year, instead of two hours.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Okay. Cool.” He nods and rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes darting down and back up and down again. He skims the back of my hand, expression a little uncertain.
Is he trying to hold my hand?
He laces our fingers. “Is this okay?”
I look down at our clasped hands, amazed that something so innocent manages to make every sensitive part of my body react. “Oh, uh. Yeah.” I hope my palm stays dry with all this contact.
His green eyes search mine. “Are you sure?”
“Positively positive.” I’m grateful my tone deepens instead of pitching up.
“Good. Great. Let’s go get you that drink.”
“Yeah.” I need it for sure.
His fingers tighten around mine as he guides me through the throng of bodies. There must be a hundred people here already. Apparently, it’s someone’s birthday based on the sign haphazardly taped above the doorway.
We trail Enid to the kitchen. Brody is leaning against the counter, strategically sandwiched between two players. That way the girls who flank the other two can’t get to him. His hand is in his pocket, baseball cap pulled low, expression bored.
But when he catches Enid in his peripheral vision, he pushes away from the counter and heads for us.
“Hey, guys.” He smirks at our clasped hands, then his ears pink as he turns to Enid. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
Enid shrugs. “I didn’t have plans and this seemed better than doing nothing at home.”
“Cool. Well, I’m glad you guys are finally here. Gage is already on the prowl, and I hate it when he tries to make me his wingman.”
“That’s fair,” I empathize. Being Gage’s wingman isn’t a joyful experience.
We survey the closest cooler.
“You like the iced tea coolers, right?” Mac asks.
“Yeah, that’s right.” My heart gets a little happy over the fact that he knows this. At least until he hands Enid her preferred cooler, too.
He pays attention to details. He could have just as easily asked Enid, and maybe would’ve, if not for Brody.
Gage shows up a few minutes later, apparently on a prowl break, and we’re joined by a few of their teammates.
“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Fee.” Mac drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Fee, this is Keith, Todd, and Lawrence. They’re third years. Keith plays defense, Todd is a left wing, and Lawrence is a right wing.”
“Hey.” I wave and lean into Mac, loving being tucked against him like this. Maybe he’ll keep his arm around me all night.
Lawrence’s eyebrow pops and dips. “Isn’t your mom the assistant coach for the Terror?”
“She’s actually my sister, but yeah.” I slide my arm around Mac’s back and tuck my thumb into one of his belt loops as I sip my drink and hope no one asks awkward questions. Nothing kills a conversation faster than someone finding out your parents are dead.
“Man, that’s freaking cool. Do you play hockey, too?” Lawrence asks.
I laugh, then cough to cover it. “Uh, not really. My younger sister is a goalie, though.”
“Does she go here?” Keith asks.
“No, she’s not even in high school yet, so it’ll be a few years.”
“Oh wow.” Keith seems less interested now.
“Didn’t your sister marry Hammerstein when she was his coach? That was like, some media fodder for a while,” Todd says.
“Oh yeah, everyone knew who I was in my senior year of high school.” I find the best way to deal with these questions is to make light of it.
“Forrest-Hammer is a legend. He and Hendrix coached me and Lovett in the summer, and I learned a ton from them,” Brody jumps in.
“I’m applying this summer,” Mac adds.
“Should be easy for you to get in when your girlfriend is related to the guys running it, eh?” Lawrence says.
“Mac’s performance on the ice will get him a spot in the program,” I snap.
“Right, yeah, but like, your crew has an in with the academy,” Todd adds and tips his chin at me. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me.”
“I’ll introduce you the next time Roman is scouting a Tilton game,” I offer, mostly just to get him off our backs.
The conversation shifts to the Hockey Academy and how many of their players make it to the pros.
And the entire time, Mac keeps me tucked into his side, his arm draped over my shoulder, thumb sweeping back and forth over a patch of exposed skin.
The touch, however innocuous, makes it hard to follow the conversation.
Which is fine by me, because I’ve heard it a million times.
Eventually our favorite song comes on, and Enid tugs me out from under Mac’s arm.
Mac frowns as she and Cammie pull me to the living room.
I wave and toss a wink over my shoulder. “We’ll be back!”
“So you and Mac look pretty cozy,” Enid observes.
“Aren’t we supposed to?” The whole point of me being his fake girlfriend is to ward off all the thirsty girls looking to be his plus-one at the hockey gala in a couple of weeks.
Will we go back to being just friends after that? I don’t love that thought. Or the possibility that we’ll have to stage a fake breakup to end our fake relationship.
“It doesn’t look like much of an act,” Cammie adds.
“I’m not dancing with you two if your plan is to interrogate me.”
“It’s an observation, not an interrogation.” Enid nudges my arm. “That’s all.”
I want to point out that Enid and Brody are constantly stealing longing glances at each other, but that’s opening a can of worms and a sore spot neither of them seems ready to face.
When the song changes, Chase wraps his arms around Cammie’s waist from behind.
Keith asks Enid if she wants to dance, and she says sure, although not before longingly glancing over his shoulder at Brody.
I smell Mac’s cologne a second before he rests a hand lightly on my hip from behind.
A moment later his lips brush the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Is this okay?”
I tip my head up until the crown rests against his sternum. “Yeah, it’s a very couple-y thing to do.”
His dimple appears. “Perfect, everyone will know you’re mine and I’m yours.”
If only that were really true.
He winds an arm around my waist, and pulls me into him, my back pressed against his chest. It’s different than one of his hugs and intentionally intimate.
Mac is tall, lean, and all muscle, narrower than the pro players, because he’s still growing, but he’s a head taller than me, and I love how protected I feel in his arms.
Eventually Cammie and Chase start hardcore making out—this is not unusual when they’ve been drinking at a party—so I turn to face Mac and link my hands behind his neck.
His gaze shifts from our horny friends to me. “Those two can’t keep their hands off each other.”
“Total couple goals,” I joke.
He glances over my shoulder for a moment, tongue dragging across his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ve forgotten that they’re in a room full of people?”
“Or they get off on the fact that people are watching,” I offer.
“You think so?” His gaze shifts back to me and our eyes lock.
Cammie writes MFM fanfic, and there’s a significant amount of voyeurism. I shrug. “It’s possible.”
“How do you feel about PDA?” he asks.
“Depends on the situation, but I don’t think I’d mind feeling claimed.”
His fingers flex on my waist and warmth travels through me at the sudden spark that flares between us. But I’m sure the booze and watching our friends get handsy on the dance floor is the cause.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I blurt and drop my hands before I do something regrettable.
Mac blinks a few times, but steps back, severing the contact. “Right. Okay. You need me to be your bodyguard?”
I pat him on the chest. “I’ll be fine.” If he comes with me, I’ll be liable to drag him in there with me and embarrass myself by being honest.
I weave my way through the crowd, and join the line for the bathroom, thankful there are only two guys ahead of me and one girl. The wait gives me time to get my hormones and my head under control.
Once I’m finished in the bathroom, I make my way back to the living room, but my friends have moved. I spot them in the four seasons room.
Before I can reach Mac, two girls approach him. The one on the left asks him about the hockey gala, which isn’t a surprise. I hang back, the lump in my throat growing as I wait to see how he handles this, now that we have this arrangement.
“I’m taking my girlfriend, but I don’t think Gage has a date yet,” he offers.
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” The girl sounds devastated.
I get it. Mac is a delight in all senses of the word.
“We started dating recently,” he explains. “She’s cool, and gorgeous and fun to be around.”
I sidle up next to him and hug his arm, tamping down the thrill over being able to touch him like this.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He smiles down at me. “Are your ears burning? I was just talking about you.”
The term of endearment sends another wave of pleasure sweeping through me. “Were you saying nice things?”
“Like how talented and beautiful you are?” He winks and grins.
He’s laying it on a little thick, but I don’t mind. “And a great dancer.”
“Incredible, really,” he agrees. “Wanna get out of here?”
It’s a sharp right. Maybe he’s had enough of pretending for tonight. I hide my disappointment behind a smile. “Sure. We can go.”
An impish grin curves the corner of his mouth as he dips down, wraps his arm around the back of my legs, and tosses me over his shoulder.
I shriek and laugh as my cheek bumps his muscular back. I rest my hand briefly on his rock-solid right ass cheek for balance, before I move it to his hip.
“See you guys tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder.
I wave to my friends, who wear matching grins as he carries me out the door.