Fake Dates & Ice Skates: (The North University Series Book 1)

After a week of barely seeing each other, other than a disgruntled grunt in the morning, Scarlett, Kennedy, and I are finally sat watching a movie together. I lock my phone after ordering a pizza from Nero’s when the title credits of ‘Matilda’ flash across the flatscreen. Kennedy pauses the TV and turns around from her seat at the floor, just beneath Scarlett and me. She whips her curly hair into a bun before pointing at the both of us with an accusatory expression.

“Two updates. Go!” she shouts. I give Scarlett a concerned glance and she shakes her head with a laugh.

Our first semester at NU was complete bliss. All of our schedules somehow matched perfectly, and we were able to meet up all the time outside the apartment instead of just in the morning or at night. Unfortunately, there was a miscalculation with mine and Kennedy’s schedule so by the second semester we were a mess.

We managed to salvage a steady routine and when we finally had time for the three of us, Ken suggested that we each give three updates on our treacherous lives apart to fill each other in. As workloads piled up, the three updates quickly became two; avoiding having to say the same thing twice.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Scarlett starts. We turn to look at her and she’s only half smiling, always trying to avoid being either too serious or too immature. “One, I no longer have a UTI and two, I finally beat Evan in the class Kahoot.”

We all burst out laughing at the absurdity. “Two, very disconnected but still clap-worthy updates. I wish we could do Kahoot’s in art. It’s sooo boring,” Kennedy says, rolling her eyes.

“What about you, Ken Doll?” Scarlett says with an evil smirk, reaching next to her to pick out all the purple candies out of the jar.

“You know that nickname will never stick, right?” Kennedy frowns.

“I’ll make it stick. Don’t worry,” Scarlett says, hauntingly. Ken throws a weak punch into her arm before clearing her throat.

“Okay, so, my updates are…I finished our portraits but before you can ask, no you can’t see them until I think they’re ready,” Kennedy exclaims. She has been working on and off for our group portraits, but she keeps saying she’s getting close to finishing it and then completely scrapping the painting. I think I’ve posed for more photos for Kennedy than I have for myself.

“Which isn’t going to be for another year,” I whisper under my breath. Scarlett hears me and snickers before thinking.

“I heard that, you impatient bitch. True art takes time,” Kennedy states proudly. “And second update is I finished the new season of The Crown.”

“What? Oh my God! Without me?” Scarlett exclaims, throwing a pillow in her direction.

“I had to! You take, like, a gazillion bathroom breaks whenever we watch anything.”

“You’re the one that stopped Matilda. You can’t spoil it for me now,” Scarlett says.

“I can’t spoil it. It’s literally history, just pick up a book,” Kennedy retorts, rolling her eyes. She turns to me, her expression calming down from their short-lived argument. “What about you, Wren? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“I’m just thinking about my updates. Nothing exciting has happened,” I sigh.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, heat begins creeping up my cheeks without permission. The second I have time to think about what has happened in the last week I’m reminded of two things: having my meeting with Coach and his face. Miles’ dumb, stupid, ridiculously gorgeous face. He’s managed to get his way into my head with his confusing conversations and typical hockey guy personality. Just thinking about the way, he leaned into me at the party, his hot breath on my neck is enough to send shivers down my spine.

But it shouldn’t. Because the last thing I want is to be one of his Puck Bunnies.

“Oh my God, spill it. Right now,” Kennedy demands, her eyes searching mine.

“Spill what?” I say, reaching my arm behind her to shove whatever food I can find into my mouth to stop me from talking.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s about a boy. I can tell,” Kennedy says, wiggling a finger in my face. She has loved doing that for as long as I can remember but I don’t know why. Even when I know she’s talking to me, she loves to point at me for extra emphasis.

“How can you tell?” I get out around a mouthful of pistachios.

“Because your face is red as a tomato right now,” Scarlett says. “This is a judgment free zone. Speak your mind, baby.”

I stifle my laugh and take in a deep breath. “Fine. Update one is that I finished a new chapter of Stolen Kingdom.”

Kennedy gasps and Scarlett’s eyes widen with excitement. “Oh my God,” they both scream at the same time.

“See I knew it wasn’t about a guy!” Kennedy says, completely contradicting her last comment. Scarlett shakes her head fiercely.

“No, you didn’t. And you didn’t let her finish,” Scarlett explains. “But we need to return back to that. I have been dying to know what happens next.”

I started writing Stolen Kingdom, a fantasy series, when I was sixteen. It follows a young princess, Carmen, who finds out her whole life is a lie, and she is not actually the real heir to the throne. She is sent anonymous messages and is stalked around her small kingdom in Estonia, and she is on a quest to find out who knows her real identity and what they’re going to do about it. It falls into many different categories and the plot takes ridiculous turns, but Scarlett and Kennedy have managed to keep up thus far. They are the only people I trust to read anything I write outside of class.

“You guys know Miles Davis, don’t you?” I ask, not fully meeting either of their eyes.

“Of course. He was friends with Jake and he’s Evan’s housemate. He never shuts up about how annoying he is. Always hockey this and hockey that,” Scarlett mocks.

“It’s interesting how you hate Evan so much, yet this is the second time he’s made an appearance in today’s conversation,” Kennedy teases.

Evan is two things: filthy rich and blonde. He is a gorgeous man, and no one could deny that, but his personality makes all of us cringe. Scarlett most of all. They’re in the same class and since he joined NU, later than everyone else, he has been trying to upstage Scarlett. It’s been constant competition between them since day one. Constantly battling for the better grade or the best answers. Scarlett is not afraid of any competition but there is something about Evan that makes her skin crawl.

I look over to a red-faced Scarlett, her expression lying somewhere between a blush and pure anger. “You’re getting us off topic,” Scarlett hisses at her. She turns back to me, smiling. “Continue.”

“We were kind of talking at the party. He is really annoying but in a way that’s kind of endearing. Anyway, it turns out he’s in a shit situation too. I didn’t pay much attention to it last year, being so caught up with Augustus drama, but he was really close with Carter Reyes. He’s been drinking and wallowing in self-pity for so long his grades have slipped and he’s been benched. Judging on the fact that I could have lit his mouth on fire at the party, I don’t think he’s going to be getting on the ice anytime soon,” I ramble.

A weird sensation washes over me.

I feel for him, I do, but there is a part of me that thinks that steering clear from him is the best thing to do. He’s jeopardising his future by drinking and doing anything but practicing. I need to focus on getting my life back on track, not trying to fix the hockey boy who’s too far in take anything seriously. If he wanted to play, if he really wanted to make Carter proud in some way, he’s doing it the wrong way.

“Jesus, that’s awful,” Kennedy mumbles, her brown eyes wide with concern.

“I know but the weirdest part is that he suggested that I help him get back on track and he’ll magically get people interested in me again. It sounded so ridiculous it reminded me of you guys,” I laugh.

They’re both quiet for a minute, taking it in until Kennedy’s face literally lights up. She jumps up out of her place on the floor.

“No, no, nope,” I say before she can even say anything. I straighten and throw a finger in her face and say again, “No.”

“Yep,” Kennedy replies grinning wide.

“You can’t possibly agree with him. I feel bad for him but he’s a jerk. All hockey players are,” I plead.

“That is very true,” Scarlett agrees, nodding.

Austin has told me that for many years, this school has always put hockey guys on a pedestal. They do it at every school ever, but here especially. They’re royalty. Always thinking they are better than everybody else. Not just at their sport but in everything. They think it’s so easy to get girls to sleep with them just because they were a jersey. Even the basketball, soccer and football players aren’t like that. Maybe if Salt Lake wasn’t such a wintry place to live, they wouldn’t feel like it’s their duty to be the only thing people talk about. Austin and Scarlett have had their fair share of horrible dates with hockey players and have encouraged Ken and I to avoid them at all costs. The problem is they’re hot and they know they’re hot and that everybody wants them.

“But he’s not just any guy though. Everyone knows he’s the best player they have and he’s clearly vulnerable enough to ask you for help. You could help him retrain with all the insane cardio that you do and then he can use his pretty boy powers to help you regain your social status and your skating privileges. It’s a genius plan,” Kennedy more plans out than suggests. I hate that whenever she says ridiculous things, they just make sense. It’s her superpower. With the grin on her face, she knows it too.

“In this completely hypothetical situation, how exactly would that work? The last thing I need right now is a project to try and fix,” I warn.

“From a completely hypothetical and third-party perspective, wouldn’t it help if you pretended to date? Like, put on a whole show about it. People will be interested in you again instead of feeling sorry for you both,” Scarlett says quietly. I turn and glare at her.

“Yes! Oh my God, Scarlett. Why didn’t I think of that? Fake dating. It’s the best trope. It’s perfect,” Kennedy sighs like the little evil genius she is.

“No. Definitely not. He’s probably a dick like all the other guys on his team,” I say.

“Is he a dick or does he just have one?” Kennedy jokes, her eyebrows shooting up and down. I roll my eyes at her remark and turn to Scarlett.

“How are you of all people going to encourage this when you know what happened with Jake?” I say, ignoring Kennedy’s comment.

“Jake is an asshole but Miles, surprisingly, isn’t. He was the only one I could tolerate at any of their after-game parties. You need something to spicez up your dating life. You’ve dated like two guys in the whole time we’ve know each other. Augustus was more like your coach than an actual boyfriend so, he doesn’t count,” Scarlett admits, shrugging.

I hate how right she is. Augustus (never to be called ‘Gus’) Holden more or less scouted me in high school. We met at the rink one day and he said he saw something in me. At first it was purely a partnership and then we started getting more serious and I looked at him in a different way. He started to look more like someone I could see myself with romantically. Then things got really ugly, really quickly.

“Scar, Miles is so infuriating. And distracting. He’s like a lost puppy,” I say, my mind wandering back to that night. I would be stupid if I said I didn’t find him attractive but I’m not going to admit that to him. How could I say that his gorgeous brown locks, wicked smile, and dark green eyes drew me in so fast? It was hypnotising. Not in a good way.

“You will never fully know if you don’t find out. He can’t be so bad if he asked you for help,” Kennedy suggests. I take in the silence for a few beats, thinking it over. Why are they suddenly so interested in giving him a chance? We would never look twice at guys like him.

“Wren, I’m just going to say what everyone is thinking. You don’t have the guts to just drop skating,” Scarlett says, her tone even and steady but her words still feel like daggers.

“Scarlett! What the fuck? You can’t say that,” Kennedy shouts, staring between us worriedly. I slip back further into the couch, ready for it to swallow me whole.

“What? Am I wrong?” Scarlett asks me, looking into me with her green eyes.

“No, you’re right. I don’t have the guts. I would get too overwhelmed and drop out all together in weeks. Plus, I don’t think my writing is good enough yet,” I say truthfully, pushing away my hair from my face.

“I think this might be your only option right now, Wren,” Scarlett suggests, her voice quiet and almost motherly. I think it over, letting myself fall into the fantasy of it only for a second.

“Do I really have to date him?” I groan. The thought is both exhilarating at the thrill of something new but also irritating to have to engage in frequent conversations with him.

“Fake date him,” Kennedy corrects. “And yes. You do. No one will care if he posts you a few times on his Insta.”

I nod and take in the idea. This could work. I could have a full house at the Winter Showcase, and he might be able to get back in the rink. It would be a win-win. This could also be a stupid idea and we could end up making our lives worse than they already are.

“The next time you see him, get his number, and see if he’s still up for it. You don’t have to ask him right away, but he was technically the one who suggested it first,” Scarlett mentions.

“Fine. Okay,” I sigh, giving in.

The doorbell rings and I jump up to get the pizza we ordered. I grab some paper plates from the kitchen and bring it into the living room. We each take our share of slices of pepperoni and margarita and stare up at the screen from our various positions around our small living room. We mostly eat in silence while the movie plays.

“Can we circle back to the new chapter of Stolen Kingdom? I need to hear what happens to Carmen and Marcus right now,” Scarlett says when she returns from throwing away our garbage.

Since I started writing this series, we have made it a tradition that every new chapter I write, I have to read it out to them out loud. Almost as if it’s our own private book club. This way, I get pestered into writing more and they get the suspense of having to wait. Between chapters, I don’t give them any clues as to what’s coming next until we’re all huddled up on the couch. At first, reading out loud made me feel stupid but they enjoy when I enunciate the voices. It also helps me fill in anything that’s missing when I get to read aloud.

We sit now on the floor of the living room on top of our blankets. Instinctively, Kennedy rests her head in my lap, her frizzy hair tickling my thighs. Scarlett lays across from us, her head propped up in her hands. I pull out my laptop and start reading.

We’re halfway through the chapter before Kennedy insists on taking a stress-induced bathroom break. At the same time she leaves, and Scarlett goes to raid the fridge, my phone lights up with a message from one of my favourite people: Gianna (Gigi) Kowalski.

Since we left high school, Gigi has been working from home as a self-published author of a semi-famous fantasy series called The Last Tear. Gigi hated high school and middle school and, like me with Stolen Kingdom, she was able to use writing as an escape. Except she has actually made it big with her series by being brave enough.

Gigi: Hi Emmy. I have an update on TLT. Are you free?

Me: OMG

Me: I’m with Ken and Scar right now and they’re freaking out over my last chapter, but I’ll call u later

Gigi: That’s okay. Just let me know before you call. Mr Dixie is feeling catty today. Also, they have a right to freak out, it was an insane plot twist.

Me: Iconically casual pun. Is he okay?

Gigi: It’s just cat stuff. You know how he gets without his medication.

Me: Oohh, okay. Just like how you get without yours.

Gigi: Only I can make jokes like that, Emmy.

Me: I’m sorry but I can tell ur laughing behind the screen.

Gigi: I did laugh, you’re right. Call me later.

I lock my phone and the girls both come into the room, returning to their previous positions. Scarlett offers me some of my chips, but I shake my head, straightening the laptop on the couch next to me.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Kennedy asks with an amused expression, blinking up from me in my lap. All I have to say is ‘Gigi’ and they both laugh and sigh at the same time. “What’s the update?”

“Not much. I’m going to call her later to talk about The Last Tear,” I reply. “Mr D is sick again.”

“I think he’s constantly poisoning himself so he can get out of her house,” Scarlett says matter-of-factly. “He’s been sick too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

“I agree. When I went for lunch with her last weekend, she told me that he ran away. Again,” Kennedy muses.

We all have very different relationships with Gigi but that’s why she’s such a special friend for us. Even though we’ve known each other our whole lives, whenever we had petty arguments, Gigi was always the one who kept us together. She always pulled us back to each other. If I could find some way to pull away all of her anxieties and get her to live with us, I would do it in a heartbeat. I know how comfortable she is at home and those anxieties are what make Gigi, Gigi.

“Whatever. Whether Mr. Dixie is an undercover spy or not, Gigi loves him with her whole being. It’s not hard being a writer and a cat-mom,” I say defensively.

“I can’t disagree with that,” Scarlett nods. She points to the laptop like an eager child. “Read. Now.”