Falling: A Fake Dating College Hockey Romance (North University Book 1)
Falling: Chapter 27

I make my way back home after a long day at the rink, ready to avoid the girls’ probing questions, and take a long bath before snuggling in my bed with a paperback in my hands. Most nights, Scarlett and Kennedy watch a movie like we used to. But now, I’m so used to walking past them, mumbling a “good night” that I don’t even realize that they’ve spoken to me.

“What?” I say in the near darkness, tugging my duffel bag higher up my shoulder. I step closer into the living room, looking at the makeshift fort they’ve huddled in. They both pop their heads out of the fort, pulling the blanket around them.

“We’re going out tonight, and you’re coming with us,” Scarlett demands.

“I want to stay home. I’m exhausted,” I say.

“You’re always exhausted. A night out will wake you up,” Kennedy adds with a shimmy.

“The showcase is in less than two weeks,” I say, sighing. As much as their friendship means the absolute world to me, sometimes, I just want to be alone. Most of the time, they allow me to do that until it gets to a point like this where it’s non-negotiable.

“No, Wren. You’re going to speak to us because that’s what friends are for. You’re not going to shut us out because you’re stressed. Let your stress become our stress,” Kennedy relays, gesturing between us. “This ignoring shit you’ve been doing is pathetic.”

“Okay, rude,” I mumble.

“It’s true,” Scarlett says, “We know you have things going on, but pretending we don’t exist is low, Wren. We need you, too, you know.”

I take in a rush of air and blow it out. These girls have always had my back. They’ve sat through every awkward stage I’ve had, held my hair back while I threw up, and have been by my side every day since I met them. I’ve been a grade-A asshole to them over the past week, and we all know they deserve better.

“You guys really don’t want to know what’s been going on,” I whisper, everything that has happened in the last few weeks coming rushing back to me. I’ve managed to fuck up whatever Miles and I had going on by running away, but these girls won’t stand for that to happen, I’m sure of it.

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “Try us.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious?” Scarlett exclaims once I’ve finished explaining everything to them. Everything from fooling around with Miles to replaceing out about Austin to whatever the hell it was at Sophia’s house. It feels good to vent even though most of what I’m saying doesn’t make much sense to me anymore.

We’re at a secluded bar that Scarlett managed to get us into because of her family’s access to getting away with drinking with our fake IDs. This is the first time I’ve drank something other than a sip of wine since Barcelona. I don’t want this to become a habit, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t. Being around these two, I feel safe enough, and hell, I’m going to need liquid courage.

“Unfortunately, I’m being very serious,” I say, sipping more of my cocktail.

“No wonder you’ve been so distant,” Kennedy says quietly, shaking her head. “Does she really just expect you to tell your mom for her?” I nod. “Jesus. If Mia ever asked me to do something like that, I’d tell her to suck it up and do it herself.”

“I tried, but she cut me off and isn’t answering any of my calls,” I admit, feeling helpless.

“So what are you going to do?” Scarlett asks.

“I don’t know. I’m going to wait it out and see if she’ll tell her herself. I just know that this whole thing is going to come crashing down on me, no matter who tells her.”

As if they had planned it, they both trap me in a hug from both sides, and I melt into them. We have always done group hugs like this: the person who needs it the most is almost suffocating in the middle with the others acting as the anchor, keeping us together. When we pull apart, I can still feel them around me, making anywhere become a home with them in my arms. I’m convinced it’s their superpower.

“Tell you what you need, Wrenny?” Scarlett asks.

“For you to stop calling me that nickname?”

“Shots!” she shouts.

So we drink.

I don’t think I’ve ever consumed this much alcohol in my life, but it’s making me feel alive. As if all my problems can be dealt with tomorrow and all that matters is being in this moment with my friends. My friends who are screaming Taylor Swift lyrics at the top of their lungs. I try to make a mental note to apologize to the bar staff who have had to put up with our atrocious singing for the last two hours.

“I love you guys so fucking much,” I scream when Blank Space finishes. They pull me into a tight hug again, their microphones jabbing into my stomach. “Like, so, so much.”

“Oh no,” Kennedy says, frowning as she pulls apart from us.

“What is it? Have I had something in my teeth this whole time?” Scarlett asks, frantically searching for her mirror in her purse.

“No. Your teeth are perfect, babe. I just realized that Wren is an emotional drunk,” Kennedy says, pouting at me.

“I’m not emotional, and I’m not a drink,” I slur, waving her off.

“Drunk, babe. You mean you’re not drunk,” Scarlett says, patting me on the back. Thank God she knows how to speak. “And you are. Watch.”

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and clicks on her home screen, and it’s a picture of the two of us at our kindergarten graduation. We look so tiny and small and so cute. We’ve got the biggest grins on our toothless faces with our graduation caps and gowns on. Then she clicks the screen, and the worst thing happens. It changes to a picture of all of us, Kennedy now included, at our high school graduation, smiling as we hold our diplomas.

“See, that’s just cruel,” I say, the sob ripping through me unexpectedly. “I miss you guys.”

“We’re right here, Wrenny. And we always will be if you let us,” Kennedy says, looking at me with her gorgeous brown doe eyes. Then the waterworks are really flowing. God, I can’t get myself to stop. “More drinks!”

Then we drink more as the last few weeks I’ve had fade into a blur. I’ll have to see my mom at the show next weekend, and I can’t even stomach the thought of having to tell her about Austin.

Then my mind goes into a no-go zone. The Miles Zone. Suddenly, all I can think about are his brown eyes, his kind words, and the way his hands felt on my body. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I’ve been slowly pushing him away and I ran away like a coward at the interview when things started to feel too much.

I do the stupid thing and pull out my phone, which opens up to a picture of the two of us. It’s a selfie he took while he was confiscating my phone as I studied. He’s got the cheesiest grin on his face and is holding the camera high so you can see me in the background, my head buried deep in books. By the time he gave me my phone back, this was the picture he changed the home screen to, and I haven’t had the energy to change it back.

I do an even stupider thing, and I call him.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Milesy,” I say cheerfully.

“Wren. You’re calling me,” he points out.

“I know.”

“Are you okay? What’s going on, baby?”

“Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?” I argue, playing with the keychain that hangs off my phone case.

“Actually, yes. You’ve hardly spoken to me since Sophia’s,” he says.

“I miss you,” I blurt out, the words coming out garbled. The girls throw me a skeptical look, and I turn away from them, walking toward the bar to sit down.

“I miss you, too, princess,” he sighs. The sound of movements on his end and a few mumbles confuse my senses, and I sit up straighter. “I’d miss you a whole lot less if you stopped avoiding me.”

His statement lands the blow he intended, and I sigh but recover quick enough to ask, “What are you doing? Who are you with?”

I hear him laugh low over the phone. “I’m on a late-night grocery run with Evan. What are you doing?”

“Drinking at a bar with Kenny and Scarlett,” I say through a yawn. I whisper as if it’s a secret, “I think I’m drunk.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he replies, also whispering before returning to his normal voice. “Are you okay? I thought you didn’t drink. Barcelona and all that.”

“I don’t drink,” I say, hiccuping.

“But you are.”

“I am.”

He huffs. “What bar are you at? Let me come get you.”

“Shhhh. Stop shouting at me, or I’m going to kiss you.”

He laughs, but I don’t see what’s funny. “You’re going to kiss me? Do you mean kill, Wren?”

Oh. “Stupid autocorrect.”

“You can’t autocorrect with your voice, baby.”

“Stop calling me baby, or I will kiss you,” I murmur, but I don’t think he hears me. All I hear is a sharp inhale, so I continue. “Can you come and get us, please?”

“Can you turn on your location for me?” he asks gently, and I fumble to change the screen so I can send him my location. “I’m on my way.”

Less than twenty minutes later, we’re still all very drunk and a little less sad than before, and the boys have arrived. Maybe I should have given Scarlett a trigger warning about Evan because she almost throws up when she sees him. Which I can’t tell is because of the alcohol or because of the disgust she has for him. Evan is dressed casually in pants and a crisp white shirt with a black tie hanging loose on his neck, while Miles is wearing gray sweatpants and a white shirt.

Scarlett comes beside me as we stand in a line, staring at the boys as if they’ve interrupted something. “Why is he here? You promised no blonds,” she tries to whisper, but she’s basically shouting in my ear.

“I promised no such thing. Plus, he was already with Miles in his fancy car,” I say back, singing the last few words. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to the fact that I’m friends with people like Scarlett and Evan, who already have more money than I will ever make in my lifetime.

“I can’t help it if I’m blond,” Evan retorts, running a hand through his hair. “Genes.”

“You can dye your hair,” Kennedy suggests.

Evan nods. “Done.”

“No! Don’t do that,” Scarlett says, stumbling toward him as if he’s about to dye his hair this minute. Evan laughs, holding her as she almost falls into him.

“You just said how much you hate my blondness.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to dye it, you idiot,” she mumbles, trying to get herself out of his grip, but he keeps his hands on her forearms. “Would you really do it if I told you to?”

“If it annoys you that much, of course I would, angel.”

What the fuck?

When did this happen? Has he always called her angel? And has she always let him? I’m not going to remember this in the morning, so I will start to erase it from my memory now. They both stare at each other, and it’s hard to tell which one of them is drunk at this point.

Until Scarlett finally says, “I’m drunk. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Drunk thoughts are sober words,” I say, trying my absolute best to wink at Scarlett.

“That’s not how the saying goes. But good job, baby,” Miles says, smiling down at me as he wraps his arm around my waist. “Can you walk okay?”

“I think you might need to carry me.”

“Really?” He narrows his eyes. I nod, smiling up at him. “Fine.”

He picks me up in a fireman’s carry, hauling me over his shoulder, and I’m lucky I’m not wearing the skirt that the girls begged me to wear. All Miles can see is my fully clothed ass in my favorite pair of jeans.

He carries me all the way to the car as Evan has Kennedy and Scarlett on each side of him, and they slip into the back with us. We drive home mostly in silence, and Miles insists on walking us up to the door.

After the girls have gone to their rooms, Miles follows me into mine. I’m still a little tipsy, on the verge of falling asleep, but the second that Miles comes into my room, I’m fully awake. It’s pitch-black outside, and Miles Davis is in my bedroom, and he’s looking at me, waiting for me to do or say something.

A few weeks ago, I would have been close to mauling him. Having him finger fuck me until I almost passed out is more than enough of crossing this boundary we’ve put up. Everything else that followed has just made it even harder to look him in the eye. My life is a mess right now, and the only thing that might help me get back up is the showcase. My priority. My goal. Not whatever is going on with Miles and what my sister is trying to make me do.

He steps closer toward me, and the back of my knees hit the bed, making me sit down. My heart races as he kneels in front of me and pushes me down.

“What are you doing?” I murmur, his eyes burning into mine.

“I think it’s time for bed, Wrenny.”

“With my clothes on?”

“You’re right. Easy fix,” he says, tugging me back up to stand. “Strip.”

“I— What?”

“Just get ready for bed,” he urges, leaning against my vanity. “Do you want me to step out of the room?”

I shake my head. “You can stay.”

“Perfect. Then take your clothes off, Wren.”

I blink at him, but I do as he says. It’s not like he hasn’t seen anything before. There’s nothing sexual about this, but it feels even more intense than it would if it was leading to something. His gaze is hungry and filled with desire without being overbearing and uncomfortable. I turn my back to him as I take off my bra and slip on an oversized North T-shirt and shorts.

When I’m dressed, he urges me to get inside my covers and then wraps them around me like I can’t do it on my own.

He passes me the glass of water that I hadn’t realized was there, and I take a few gulps. He places it back on the nightstand and gets into the bed with me. I’m lying down, tucked neatly under the covers as Miles sits beside me on top of them, looking down at me.

I turn to the ceiling and say, “I’m sorry about that. About calling you and having you pick us up. I shouldn’t have had a drink. It was a really stupid thing to do.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Wren,” he says. “If you think I’m going to lecture you or tell you what to do, I’m not. I’m glad you’re having fun. All I want is for you to be happy. You deserve a break, you know.” He slides down onto the bed next to me, our shoulders brushing against each other as we both look up at the ceiling. Honestly, it hurts to look at him. It’s like there’s a fire in my chest whenever I do.

“I don’t deserve anything, sometimes. I don’t deserve you, and I especially don’t deserve a break.”

I know how pathetic I sound, but I can’t tell my mouth to stop. He turns to me now, one arm resting beneath his cheek and the other wrapping a finger around my hair, and it distracts me for a second. I like that he does that. That he always needs to touch me or be close to me in some way.

“What makes you think that?”

I shrug. “My brain. My mom.”

He closes his eyes for a second before opening them. “When I see you skate, do you know what I see?” I swallow, shaking my head. “I see the most talented, smartest, skilled person I have ever met. I feel like I need to hold my breath when I watch you. I don’t even want to close my eyes sometimes in case I miss something, and that’s just when you’re practicing.”

I sigh, trying to let his words register, but my brain is still foggy. “I don’t think I try hard enough. If I tried hard enough, my mom would actually like me, and I wouldn’t be constantly trying to gain her approval.”

“What makes you think she doesn’t like you? She’s your mom; she adores you,” he whispers.

I laugh incredulously. “She can adore me, but she doesn’t love me or maybe even like me. I think I’ve known that for a while. She thinks I’m a good skater and I can be what she didn’t get the chance to be. But I think deep down, she doesn’t see me as her daughter in some fucked up way.”

His face is so close to mine now, the light touch of his fingers in my hair grounding me to this moment. “You have no idea, do you?”

“What?”

“You have no idea how special you are, Wren, and it breaks my heart every time I hear you speak like that. I would give up everything I have for you to realize that you’re perfect in every way that counts.”

I feel like all the alcohol has left my body as the words leave his mouth and puncture me right in the heart. This is exactly what it feels like for my inner child to be healed.

I do what I’ve been needing to do since I saw him today and wrap my arms around him. It’s a little struggle at first since we’re both lying down, but once we’re comfortable, I nuzzle my face into his neck, breathing in his lavender smell. I think I could stay buried with my head in his neck forever if he let me. His presence is so utterly perfect that I just want it to consume me.

“Can you stay here tonight? Just hold me,” I ask into his skin, not wanting him to leave me just yet. Yeah, I really am an emotional drunk.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Wren, you know⁠—”

I cut him off before he can say no. “Can you, please? I need you. I need you here.” I think he’s the only thing keeping me calm. The only thing that is keeping my heartbeat at a settled pace. I also think I want him around all the time. I’ve got so used to having him here that I can’t imagine being alone again.

“I was going to say that you should know I’d do anything for you, princess,” he whispers. I pull apart from him, leaning on his chest to look at him. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face, smiling, and it might be the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from crying. “You’re a really good guy, Miles. Like, almost too good.”

“I know.” He grins.

“I take it back. You’re the worst.”

He presses a kiss to my nose, and I think it’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done. “Just shut up and let me hold you.”

He gently pushes me to turn around until my back is flush against his front, his arms braced tight around me. I don’t tell him about Austin or how stressed I am because it doesn’t feel like the right time. All I need is to be held by him, and it seems like he needs it too. So he holds me.

All night.

He’s just there.