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“Congrats on your win,” I say once he slides into the car beside me.
“Thanks.” The corners of his mouth lift to a cocky grin. “I’m pumped for this year. Our team is good, and it’s finally nice to get some recognition.”
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. From what I know, the hockey team falls short compared to the other sports on campus, but it’s still widely popular. Someone always mentions CU Hockey. “What do you mean?”
“With us becoming a D1 program, we’re getting a lot more national attention,” he explains. “But it also comes with more scrutiny. Everyone is watching.” The pride in his voice makes me smile.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re down for it?”
His grin widens. “Pressure is my fuel. I love the adrenaline rush of being in the spotlight, of having all eyes on me. It pushes me to be better, to prove myself and my team.”
I nod, a newfound respect for Blake stirring within me. I had always seen him as just another campus jock, but there’s more depth to him than meets the eye. Maybe there’s more to this “date” than I initially thought.
As we drive through the city streets, Blake easily handles the car, maneuvering through traffic effortlessly. It’s clear he values precision in everything he does, even outside of the rink.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence. “What exactly is this game plan you mentioned?”
“I’m starving, so we’re going to a small diner off the beaten path. Somewhere we can talk without being overheard, if you know what I mean.”
My stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me I haven’t eaten all day. Blake smirked and turned off the main road, taking a series of turns until we arrived at a small diner nestled in a quiet neighborhood. He parked the car on the side of the road and motioned for me to follow him inside. As soon as we stepped through the door, the loud chatter and clinking of dishes hit us. Blake navigates through the crowded dining room, leading me to a booth near the back. He must frequent this place often.
Blake gestures for me to sit on the burgundy vinyl bench while he slides in across from me. He grabs the menu stacked in the holder by the wall and hands me one.
The waitstaff and cook stand at the ready, their eyes darting back and forth between us. A gentle sheen of sweat forms on my skin.
“Why are they staring?” I whisper shout.
“They’re probably wondering if you’re my girlfriend. See, our plan works already.”
“Ha!” The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I hate being the center of attention. “Seriously, though. They’re still staring.”
“Don’t worry about it. They’re trying to figure out what makes you so special since you’re the first girl I’ve brought here.”
“Really? Where do you usually take them?”
“To bed.”
I scoff. “You’re such a pig.”
“Hey, don’t judge. We’re consenting adults.” He shrugs. “Besides, they were after one thing and got it.”
“If you say bagging a player, I swear to God I’m going to punch you.”
“Nope.” He leans in, dropping his voice. “They wanted a screaming orgasm.”
My mouth shapes into an “O” right as my thighs clench. Shit. Why do I suddenly want to become a puck bunny?
“All right then,” I choke out and redirect the conversation to why I was here. “About our fake relationship. Let’s make this convincing.”
“Okay, we’ll need a backstory.” He leans forward with interest. “How long have we been dating?”
“One month,” I suggest with an air of authority, tapping my finger against the table as I think. “We met at the library when you were studying for a test.”
“Of course.” Blake laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. “Because that’s where I spend all my free time.”
“Better than saying we met at a party and hooked up,” I shoot back playfully.
“True, although that’d be more believable.” His lips twitch. He continues when I don’t respond, “So we’ve been dating for a month, but just made it official this week. That would explain being free during Mom’s other set-ups. What else?”
