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His words warm my heart, but I can’t help but feel conflicted. This is all part of our fake relationship, after all. We’re supposed to act like a happy couple at this party, not address past wounds and protect each other from judgmental people.
But my resolve wavers as I gaze into Blake’s eyes and see genuine sincerity. Maybe this fake relationship feels real to both of us.
“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning in closer to him.
He smiles softly and lifts his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to thank me, Amanda. It’s what partners do for each other.”
Partners. The word lingers between us and settles deep within my chest. Suddenly, being by Blake’s side at this party doesn’t seem like a chore.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
AMANDA
Laughterand a booming bass carry to the outside of Delta Sigma Pi’s house loud enough to shake the building’s stone-cold walls. My stomach lurches. How many people are here?
Pausing on the porch, Blake halts so abruptly that I nearly collide with him. He swivels, the flickering porch light casting shadows across his face, deepening the concern that carved its mark between his brows. His gaze locks onto mine. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here?”
My body warms from his words and the genuine worry in his voice. Moments like this peel back the layers of the star hockey player everyone knows. Here stands a man who truly cares, not just about the game or the adulation that comes with it but about me. It’s a poignant reminder that beneath the ice and the jersey, there’s a depth to Blake that few people see—a stark contrast to the raucous party scene behind those doors.
I manage to smile and gently squeeze his hand. With more confidence than I feel, I say, “I’ll be fine, Blake. Don’t worry about me.”
His eyes search mine momentarily as if trying to detect any sign of hesitation or discomfort. But all he finds is determination and resolve.
“I mean it,” he persists, his voice softening. “If you’re not having a good time or anything feels off, just let me know. We can bail.”
His genuine concern seeps into every inch of my being. I can’t keep pretending to myself any longer. Especially not when he looks at me as if I’m his best friend. As if he wants more. People may know Blake for his charm and easygoing nature, but I see a different side—a caring and attentive side that makes my heart flutter. I want to believe that there’s something special between us, but I fear I might be seeing something that isn’t truly there.
I squeeze his hand again, gratitude sparkling in my eyes as I look up at him. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”
Blake gives me a small, reassuring smile, his blue eyes softening. “Okay, just remember, I’m here for you,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity. “No matter what happens tonight, I’ve got you, you hear?”
There goes the last of my resolve. It cracked and shattered, leaving nothing but blind faith in its wake. Faith that this relationship isn’t so fake after all. That maybe there’s something real brewing between us, something that goes beyond the charade we’re putting on.
Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together and plaster a confident smile. “All right, let’s do this,” I say, my voice filled with determination.
As we stepped through the doors, the noise hit me like a wall of sound. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol as bodies move and sway to the rhythm of the music. There are way more people here than the last time I showed.
Blake wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me through the throng of people with a practiced ease. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through me. Its calming effect makes me feel safe and protected.
Everybody, and I do mean every single person, approaches us. Blake has a certain charm that effortlessly attracts people to him. I first noticed it during the ceremony earlier today when he had to mingle with the donors. It’s just part of who he is; he doesn’t have to exert effort.
We make our way to the makeshift bar and order our drinks.
“There you are. I didn’t think you’d show up,” Maddy approaches, red solo cup in hand. We hug as if we hadn’t just seen each other at the apartment.
Her gaze shifts to Blake, pointed and protective. “You better take care of my girl.”
Blake’s response was immediate, his eyes locking onto mine with a mischievous gleam. “Believe me, I plan to.” The low timbre of his voice sends a wave of heat coursing through me that has my thighs clenching with want and my nipples hardening beneath my shirt. I very much want him to make good on his promise.
“Are you giving my guy a hard time?” Ryan arrives, clapping Blake on the back. The welcome reprieve gives me a chance to catch my breath.
“Please, he can take care of himself,” Maddy says.
“Damn, straight.” Blake rests his hand on my lower back, his thumb tracing circles against my skin.
“Hey Amanda,” Ryan says. “Surprised to see you here.”
I am unsure if Blake told him about the ruse, so I keep up the pretenses. “I know parties aren’t my thing, but I’ve got my Prince Charming here.” I wince at the corniness of that statement. I’ve never needed saving before at a party. Yet, a tired, vulnerable part of me finds solace in the idea of being someone worth saving, even if I never admit it out loud.
