11 - Nathan #2
As I’m about to slide my phone into my pocket, it lights up.
Mom.
I decline it. I’m sure she saw the interview and wants more details. That’s not the problem. The problem is that the conversation will inevitably shift to what she’d rather I be doing with my life. I don’t have time for that when I need to be on the ice in an hour.
The locker room doors barely close before the guys descend.
“You absolute bastard,” Liam says, clapping me on the back. “Girlfriend?”
I drop my gear onto the bench harder than necessary. “Don’t start.”
Grayson doesn’t laugh. He studies me with his head tipped slightly to the side like he’s assessing a play unfolding in real time. “You good?”
Wyatt shakes his head.
I strip off my aqua practice jersey, muscles tight, aware of all three of them watching me now. They’ve seen me through slumps, streaks, and things I don’t talk about, but probably should. They know when I’m lying. They definitely know when I’m dodging.
“What’s going on here?” Grayson asks, sitting down on the bench.
I contemplate lying, not wanting to out Wesley’s situation. But it’s not like her coach knows my teammates. “Fake dating,” I explain, turning to see all three guys staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“She said no to working out with me at first.” I left that detail out when I first told them she was going to help.
“I like her more already,” Wyatt grunts, adding tape to his stick.
“Then her coach told her she needs to have more balance outside of soccer. She assumed something was going on between us. Wesley ran with it.”
“She lied?” Liam asks, grin growing. “Wouldn’t have thought she had it in her. Maybe her friend, that girl, is a different breed.”
“Avery?” Grayson asks, head darting up at the mention of her.
Liam’s eyes narrow, and we all exchange a glance at his sudden interest. Before we can dig in, he shifts back to me.
“Do you really need her help training with you?” Grayson asks, sliding on his game-time skates as the locker room fills with the rest of the team.
“Have you noticed how he’s played this week?” Liam asks. “It’s the best he’s looked in months.”
I lace my skates, letting them talk. He’s right. This week has been my best in a long time. Whether I want to admit it or not, something in me knows she’s part of that.
“She challenges me, not only physically, but mentally. It’s different than working out with you guys. It’s less pressure, even though she pushes me just as hard. She doesn’t care who I am or what my numbers look like.”
“That’s hot,” Liam mutters.
“Shut up.” I shoot him a look.
Grayson’s gaze stays steady. “You’re enjoying the work again.”
It’s not a question.
“Yeah. I am.”
For a moment, no one jokes. The weight of it settles in the space between us. Hockey isn’t a job for us, no matter how much money gets thrown at it. The sport is ingrained into who we are, but when it stops feeling like yours, something breaks that’s hard to name and harder to fix.
Liam, of course, ruins the moment.
“Sex has been known to improve performance. Endorphins. Stress relief. I’m just saying.” He leans back on the bench.
“It’s not like that,” I snap.
Even as I say it, my throat burns with the truth I don’t voice. That I want it to be like that. That I fantasize about her hands on me more than I should. That I’d like nothing more than to see what she looks like when she finally lets go of her super-human restraint.
It’s irrelevant.
Wyatt snorts softly. “You’re in trouble.”
Grayson smiles, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, you are.”
Liam slams his locker closed. “Damn. And here I was hoping for a scandal.”
“Don’t worry,” I mutter, grabbing my stick. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make one of your own.”
“How does the fake date thing work?” Grayson asks.
“Just a few public outings. I’ll go to her team party in January. And I’m going out with her friends tonight.”
Liam’s eyes pop out of his head, and I swear there might be drool falling down his chin.
I glare. “No. Hell no. Liam, do not sleep with one of her teammates. For the love of god, leave that team alone.”
Wyatt’s head is down, shaking with quiet laughter, and Grayson is not much better, cheeks full of air as he holds it in. Liam, though, looks like a kid in a fucking candy store.
“So, what time are we going out tonight?” Liam asks, shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
“We’re not going out,” I argue, clenching my jaw. “I am.”
“He’ll just stalk you all the way to the bar if you don’t tell him.” Wyatt points out.
I curse under my breath.
“We’re going to the Blue Line. But Liam, don’t be a jackass, please.”
He huffs, “The ladies love me.”
Grayson chuckles. “The ladies would get the ick if they heard you say that.”
“Fine. I’ll do my best to behave, but it’s not my fault if one of them hits on me.”
I whip my towel at him, “It’s never your fault when you wind up in someone’s bed.”
He quirks a brow. “What’s a man to do, really?”
Wyatt decides to jump on Liam’s train. “Yeah, Wilder, not everyone just stumbles into fake relationships.”
I flip them both off, turning toward the tunnel. As I file into the cluster of players waiting for our coach's speech, one thought loops relentlessly through my head.
My friends are crashing my second fake date tonight. The date with the woman who is now publicly mine.
I told the world she’s my girlfriend.
And the woman who likes control and planning is about to be blindsided.