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

Have you ever been so completely drunk that you end up talking to the gossipiest person in the world? Because I have. It’s just my luck that the morning after I have the best sex of my life that I would run into Mason Greer in Palm Springs while I was out of my mind. After moping about how I thought Wren had hated me, I royally fucked up the last bit of trust that Wren and I had built. I had only just asked her to be my girlfriend – for real – and she’s already gone.

When I sobered up later that day, all I remembered was talking to Emily and this guy came up to me. I only remembered his face blurring around the edges. I do remember thinking he was Carter. He had the same soulful eyes as him and deep tanned skin. He looked harmless. Maybe it was all the alcohol I had but I could have sworn he sounded so much like him too. That’s why it was so easy to talk to him. It felt like being at the rockery again but with someone to speak back to me. I didn’t notice the phone in his hand though.

WHINY GUY COMPLAINS OVER GF WHO DOESN’T LOVE HIM ON NEW YEARS DAY, the caption read on every reposting account.  Somehow, someone managed to identify me and spread it around NU. It’s one of the first scandals I’ve ever been involved in, and it doesn’t feel good. It was torture when Wren left a few days ago and I went downstairs to Evan and Xavier laughing at me. It got worse when I had to go into class with everyone snickering as if I wasn’t there.

If it feels bad for me, it must me a million times worse for Wren. It had to come out at the worst possible time for her and for us. She has all the drama with her family on her back as well as competition season. It’s the last thing she needs to deal with right now.

Hearing the video play on repeat and watching myself in a moment that I don’t remember is weird.  It’s like I’m floating outside of my body, out of control of all the stupid things I said.

“Dude, this situation sucks but you’ve got to admit that’s it’s a little funny,” Evan mentions for the hundredth time in the last week. ‘I mean, you’re fucking crying in the video.’

That’s pretty ironic coming from him but I don’t say anything. He would kill me if he knew that I know about him and Catherine. We’re sitting in the living room, eating Chinese take-out in front of the TV. Xavier and I had a game earlier which we won, luckily. It was a lot tougher than our first game and without Wren there it felt strange. I don’t know why a stupid part of me thought she would show up when we haven’t spoken since she walked out.

“It’s embarrassing is what it is. For the both of us,” I say, running my hands down my face.

“This sucks, we know it does, but these things blow over. People will find the next thing for them to obsess over. We need to get through playoffs into the finals and we need you on our team,” Xavier says, patting me on the back. “We only just got you back.”

“I know, Z. You’re right. I need to speak to her about it,” I sigh, stabbing some chicken with my fork.

“What is there to speak about? Just say sorry and move on. It’s not like you said you hated her. In fact, you said the opposite,” Evan suggests before shoving noodles into his mouth.

“I know but I shouldn’t have said it, that’s the thing,” I explain with a huff, running my hand through my hair.

“Why not? Did you not mean it?” Evan asks curiously, poking around his chicken before looking up at me.

“No, I did. I just don’t think me saying that, in that state, is a very smart move for our relationship. Especially when we’ve just started dating.”

“You‘ve been together since the end of September, right?” Xavier looks at me when the words leave Evan’s mouth. Shit. I almost messed this up even more. I forgot that he doesn’t know that it was fake up until a few weeks ago.

“Right, yeah. Regardless, I know how she feels about love. It’s still too early to say things like that, y’know,” I reply with more confidence.

“Whatever it is, Davis, text her, talk to her, fuck her. Whatever you need to do to get back into the game,” Xavier says sternly, pining me with a stare. I roll my eyes and pull out my phone, waving it at him and he drops his smile. I owe it to him and everyone on the team to keep my head on right while we compete this season.

I pull up Wren’s number and shoot her a message.

Me: Hey. Can we talk?

Wren: Yeah. Florentino’s tommorow at 3?

Me: That works. See you then.

*

I thought that waiting until Wren showed up would be the most torment. Though, it felt mostly self-inflicted since the guys forced me to go in early so I could look prepared even though I’m completely shitting myself.

We’ve never had an argument; we’ve never had a real reason to ignore each other for days. We have always had this underlying friendship between us even when we started fake dating. It was something undiscussed. We just worked. Even when she pretended to hate me at the beginning, I could tell that underneath it all, she wanted me or to be friends with me, at least.

What I wasn’t expecting was Wren to come in, sweaty from working out with an angry look on her face. I also didn’t expect it to turn me on so much. Her deep red facial expression is giving angry mom vibes which — come to think of it — I don’t hate.

I definitely didn’t think she would be completely silent after she slipped into her seat. I don’t know where her head’s at and I don’t know where mine is either. All I want to do is be with her, to have her even with all these complications.

At the same time, I say, “I’m sorry,” she asks, “Did you really mean what you said?”

I jerk back in my seat. “What?”

She crosses her arms on her chest, using it more as an embrace as she glares at me.

“Did you mean what you said about me not being capable of loving you — or anyone?” she asks again, her voice weighty with emotion. I watch as her jaw grounds together.

“No, Wren, I didn’t. I was drunk and it was my own insecurities and my subconscious speaking,” I whisper. I place my hands awkwardly on the table, not sure what to do with them while I link and unlink them. I can’t tell if I’m saying the right thing or not.

“I said what I said to you that night out of confidence. You asked me the question and I answered it truthfully. Isn’t that what this whole thing has been about? Truth? If it’s in your subconscious, then you must have thought about it.”

“I’ll admit that I was shocked. I’ve seen the way you read about romance, how you watch rom-coms, I just thought that you would want that eventually. I freaked out when you left in the morning and I thought that going to the bar was a good idea,” I say truthfully.

I try and search her eyes. For something. Anything. Something that will tell me that we’re going to be okay. But nothing surfaces. It’s all darkness and cloudy as if she’s shutting me out already.

“I said from the beginning to tell each other when this got too real. When things stopped feeling like pretend. Everything just went to fast.”

“You knew I wanted you this whole time, Wren. I never kept that a secret,” I say, my voice sounding so far from where we are. “What part of saying that ‘I love you’ was fake to you?”

‘Miles.’ She sighs and looks down at the table before looking back up at me. ‘You don’t love me. You were drunk and we were still pretending.’

‘Are you being fucking serious right now?’ I ask, whisper-shouting. ‘You think that I risked my spot on the team by getting in a fight for nothing? Do you think that I sat with you and held your hair back when you were going through a tough time because I don’t love you? Everything I’ve done, in and outside of the plan, I did it for you. Not for my fake girlfriend but because I wanted to see you happy.’

‘I never asked you to do any of that.’

‘That’s the whole fucking point, Wren. You don’t need to ask me to do anything. I will do anything for you. Don’t you see that?’ I retort, trying my best to cool the angry blood surging through me. ‘I care about you so much that is scares the shit out of me. So don’t you dare tell me that that isn’t love.’

‘I- I don’t know what you want me to say, Miles,’ she whispers. I grab her hand and pull it into mine, curling my huge hand around hers and she stares at them.

‘Tell me that you forgive me. Say that you want to make this work because you and me, Wren,’ I start, tugging on her hands so she looks up at me. Her eyes are dim as she takes me in, swallowing. ‘We’re real.’

She stares at me for a long moment, as if everything between us have just been blips in time. As if everything we have shared and been through together don’t carry the same weight as they once did. I swear I see in her face the second she makes her decision.

‘Remember when we said we’d tell each other if it got too much? Well, it has.’

The beating in my chest starts to slow before it picks up its pace again, hammering so hard against my chest that I feel like it’s going to burst out. My hearing is solely focused on the beat of my heart as Wren’s face in front of me starts to fade away.

Is this what it feels like to die? Because it fucking feels like it.

I try and take in a few deep breaths to steady my heart rate. I can’t lose her. I can’t keep going on without her. She is the only reason I got back up. She filled that uncomfortable hole in my chest that was taken away when Carter died.

You.

You.

I just want you, my heart screams.

“What?” I ask thickly.

“I don’t this is a good idea anymore. We did what we needed to do for the contract. My team is doing okay with support and you’re in the season,” she starts with a sigh. “When I’m with you, Miles, I can’t focus on anything else. This got too real, too quick for me and you know where my priorities lie.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to do things for yourself or was that all bullshit?” I know it’s a low blow and it’s petty but it’s not that easy to not take what she says to heart. How she can try and discard my feelings for her as if they don’t mean anything.

“I am doing this for myself. We both know why I skate. Whether it was because of my mom or not – I enjoy it and if I have a shot of winning this year’s championships, I want to go for it. With everything going on with Austin, I can’t fuck this up. Not now. I’ve worked too hard to give up at the last minute.”

“But you can give up on us?”

“That’s not fair, Miles,” she whispers, “you’ve experienced it first-hand what I’m like when I’m anxious. I’m going to end up pushing you away and I can’t do that to you again.”

“Wren, I don’t care if you’d push me away,” I murmur.

“But I do. We worked well when we were pretending because there were high stakes. We had to make it work to get what we wanted. Now, I’m sure the whole of NU has seen the video and I can’t go through that embarrassment again,” she admits, finally meeting my eyes with a sullen expression. Her eyebrows furrow together, and she scrunches her nose.

“Why can’t you see yourself the way that I see you? I want you as you are, Wren, no matter how complicated it gets. Can’t you see that?” I say, my voice sounding strangled and hoarse. Her face relaxes for a second. ‘This isn’t like last time because I’m here. Let me be there for you, Wren. You are worth it.’

“Miles, I can’t-,” she sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. “You can say this now, but you’ll change your mind.”

I don’t respond. There’s nothing left me to say that will get her to trust me. To get her to believe that everything I’m saying is true. To let her know that I am going to feel this way as long as we live.

How could say that knowing Wren is to love her?

I love that she talks about books, and I can’t help but listen to her voice that sounds like honey. The way her smile lifts up as she talks about fictional people. The way she catches me staring and tries to tamp down her smile, but she can’t resist bursting into a huge grin.  That – along with her determination and her stubbornness – is why i’m in love with her. Why I can’t wake up without thinking about her and why I’m constantly trying to find a new way to make her happy.

It would be unfair to say I want to keep her tucked away as my little secret because that would take away other people’s ability to know her and love her the way I do. 

She keeps her eyes on me for a long time, working over the creases in my face before I drop my gaze from hers.

I can’t look at her. Because when I do, I feel like my heart is going to rip right out of my chest.

I keep my eyes on the table when I hear her chair scrape against the floor. I keep my head down when she stands next to the table for a second before walking out of the café.