Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

“Tommy-fucking-Novak,” I mumble. “He’s like the biggest player in the NHL this season. Superstar forward for Boston. Traded from New York a few years back. He’s scored more goals this year than any other player. He—”

Maddox puts his hand on mine to make me stop talking. “I get it. You’re a fan.” He leans in and whispers, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my side of the bargain.”

I slink back in my seat. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, hell yeah, I’d want to meet him, but there’s no way someone like Tommy will sign with a green agent like me.” I should be pissed, because this has been a waste of my time, but I’m not. Perhaps it’s because I actually like Maddox. Had I known him before all of this, I would’ve volunteered to come back with him without the incentive.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell him,” Alana says.

“I would have eventually,” Maddox says.

I shrug. “It’s not like it’s baseball. Had you been related to Zach Pritchett and not told me, I would’ve broken up with him.”

His mom eyes us warily, so I wrap my arm around Maddox and pull him closer. His breath hitches when my mouth lands near his ear. “Your mom’s suspicious,” I whisper as if I’m telling him sweet nothings. “Smile as if I’m being romantic.”

Instead, he laughs. With a quick kiss to his temple, I pull away but keep my arm around him. He tenses briefly when my lips land on him, but he relaxes again just as fast. Rubbing a soothing hand over his shoulder probably isn’t a good idea, so I keep as awkwardly still as possible.

His parents ask me question after question about my family, and they’re shocked when they find out I grew up in New York and I’m not a thug. Or that I’ve never been mugged. I have to bite back a laugh. There’s more small talk, but every time there’s a lull in conversation, his mom glances between the two of us again and her face takes on an analytical expression. She looks like me when I’m trying to do algebra. I’m all right with math until the alphabet gets involved.

The cold air gets colder somehow, and I move in closer to Maddox to block some of the breeze.

“I know what you’re doing, dickhead,” he mutters with a smile. “We should swap places. You’re wider than me.”

“Then I’ll be cold,” I complain.

“But I won’t be.”

Maddox’s dad gets out of his seat and throws another log on the fire. “That should be good for another two hours, boys. We’re heading to bed.”

“We are?” Alana asks. He walks over to her and offers his hand and then leads her toward the house. “Okay, I guess we are.”

“They’re so cute,” I say.

“If you say so. I’m worried about the glimmer in Dad’s eye.” Maddox shudders. “Parents aren’t supposed to get freaky. Especially when their son is visiting.” He shudders some more. “You, ah, can let go of me now. They’re gone.”

“But I’m not holding onto you for show. I’m freezing my nuts off.”

Maddox laughs. “We can go inside if you want.”

“Nah, if your parents are going at it, I don’t want to be hearing that.”

“Dude. No. I can’t un-see those thoughts.” He leans forward and hangs his head in his hands.

My arm drops, and I pull it under the blanket to keep it warm now it’s not being heated by Maddox’s body.

“About our deal …” I say. “As much as I’d love a chance at representing someone like Tommy-fucking-Novak—”

“He’s still a human being, you know.”

“Nah, he’s a hockey god. But it’s all good. You don’t have to introduce us. I’m officially taking back our deal.”

“Nope. Consider it done. It’s the least I can do after what I’ve put you through this weekend.” Maddox sits up straighter. “I guess now would be when to say—”

“If you apologize one more time, I may have to kick your ass. I’ve never been in a physical fight in my entire life—got into a few yelling matches with an umpire during a game—but I’ve got muscles. I’m sure they could do some damage.”

Maddox’s smile has a dimple appearing in his chiseled face. “I was going to say I should give you an explanation.”

“Not my place. You don’t owe me anything. We kissed. You liked it. Now you’re confused. It’s got nothing to do with me.” I don’t want to shut him out, but the needy side of me wants him to say he wants more, and I can’t be that guy. I don’t want to be Maddox’s sexual guinea pig, and I already have a tiny crush on the guy, so he needs to work this out on his own. Harsh, maybe, but I can’t go through this again.

“How do you know I liked it?” he asks defensively.