Fake Skating(63)

Why do I find that charming as hell?

“Well, hi, Dani,” I heard, and when I turned around, it was Jessie Osman, the coach’s wife, whom I’d met at the team dinner but hadn’t really talked to.

And standing beside her, but talking to someone at the moment, was Coach Oz himself.

I immediately felt panicked, because I’d actively avoided eye contact with the man after he’d seen me groping his half-naked defenseman.

“Hi,” I said, clearing my throat.

“How’s it going?” she asked. “Getting all settled at Southview?”

“Yes,” I said, though it was kind of a yell because the place was so crowded and noisy.

“Alec played great,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning closer. “Where is he?”

Shit. Had he said he was going to Richie’s, or to Kyle’s? I seriously couldn’t remember, but his actual girlfriend would know, right? “Um, he’s hanging out with some of his teammates.”

“Where’s Zeus?” the coach yelled to me.

He obviously hadn’t heard my answer to his wife’s question, and I was even more scared to answer him than I was to answer her. I didn’t know who knew what about anything, but since our act was for the audience of hockey people, I didn’t want to mess up.

“Richie’s,” his wife said to him, apparently more in the know than me about which teammates were having people over postgame.

“Ah,” he said, nodding.

“So I’m curious,” she said, narrowing her eyes and smiling. “I heard that you two are old family friends, but how did that turn into dating?”

“Um.” I cleared my throat again, wishing I had any idea what details Alec had given his coach about our fake relationship.

“Yeah, I’d actually really love to hear this,” Big John said with a huge grin, his mischievous eyes looking a lot like Alec’s as he crossed his arms and waited for my response. “Because one day you hadn’t even seen each other yet, and the next you’re FaceTiming at all hours of the night.”

“Collins!”

I looked toward the door as Alec and his friends walked in.

Thank God.

He was grinning as he cut through the people, laughing at something some old guy in an I’M MORE SOUTHVIEW THAN YOUT-shirt said as he passed, and as I watched him work his way in our direction, it occurred to me that he looked like he belonged in that basement bar.

Like he was part of it, like he was somehow related to every one of those people who chose to spend their Friday night together in a basement where a mural of Poland was painted on the cement-block wall.

And I was jealous.

I was always jealous, at a base level, of people who’d lived in the same place their entire lives and didn’t have to move every few years, but this was different.

Because I’d lived most of my life in an isolated family of three.

I liked my little trio (and was struggling at the moment to deal with its dissolution), but seeing Alec move about in this community, where it felt like every adult was his fun uncle, teasing him like they’d always been in his life and genuinely cared about his well-being, made me wish I knew what that felt like.

“Hey,” he said when he reached my side, giving me a questioning grin, like he was wondering what I could possibly be saying to his coach.

“Hey, yourself,” I replied, snaking my arms around his right bicep and giving him what I hoped looked like a girlfriendy grin. “Your timing is perfect, because Mrs. Oz was just asking me how we went from old childhood friends to dating.”

“Yeah?” He grinned down at me like he liked this, though I wasn’t sure which this he might like,to be honest.

“Yeah,” I said. “And I want to hear your version.”

“I bet you do,” he said, and then he winked. “But the best things in life should be kept secret.”

I wanted to roll my eyes so badly as all the adults laughed at him, but I didn’t.

And then he kissed the top of my head.

I gasped because what the hell, but thankfully the room was so loud that no one heard it.

Alec’s eyes shot to mine and were unreadable as he watched me, and I cleared my throat and tried to look calm.

But I was shaken up by the fact that his stupid little kiss, all part of the act, had felt natural.

Like it was something he’d done before.

Which he hadn’t, right?

God, I’m losing it!

“I wonder if you still suck at darts,” I said abruptly, desperately needing to untangle myself from him and get a little breathing space.

“You little shits used to fill my wall with holes when you played with my metal-tipped darts,” Big John said with a laugh.

“I wonder if you’re still a sore loser,” Alec replied, the cautiousness in his gaze disappearing. “Come on.”

He grabbed my hand and led me over to the dartboards, and when we stopped, he turned and asked, “Do you actually want to play darts, or were you looking for a rescue?”

“Oh my God, Alec, I was freaking out,” I said, letting out my breath. “When his wife started asking me to tell the story of us and I had no idea what you’d actually already said, I was convinced I was going to blow the whole thing.”