“Hey, remember, you asked me to kiss you and pretend we were together first. I guess we were just that convincing.”
Did he sound smug at the end of that? Fuck, I did not want to think about that very bone-melting kiss.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Or maybe it wasn’t that clear since he acted like he didn’t believe we were dating last night,” I exclaimed, my irritation obvious. I mean, what the fuck with both of them.
Okay, to be fair, Gabe hadn’t started this. But he’d run his mouth when he should have just shut the fuck up. Fucking Roger.
I sighed.
“Ouch, but okay. Maybe he needs more convincing,” he said.
“This is a disaster.” Ugh. This was so not my life.
“I think we should fake date.”
I sputtered. “What?”
“We talked about it, remember? Just for a little while. I know you hate hockey—well, hockey players.”
“I don’t hate hockey or the players, I’m just not a big fan.” Which wasn’t completely true. I only disliked certain players.
“But it’s the best sport ever. And most of us are really nice, promise. There isn’t a single asshole on my team. Okay, not true. Sin’s a pain in the ass, but he’s just a joker.”
“Gabe.”
“And Santa’s grumpy, but not bad when you get to know him,” he continued.
“Gabe.”
“What?”
“Focus.”
“Oh, right. Yes. Sorry. But we are nice.”
It was not charming.
At. All.
“Gabe, I have a client arriving very soon.”
“Okay, so we can fake date. You come to some games. We look cozy for a social media post here and there, and then in a few weeks, maybe a month or so, we fizzle out and Roger has moved on. Oh, what do you do, by the way? I meant to ask.”
“Gabe. One thing at a time.”
“Sorry. I swear I’m laser-focused when it comes to hockey. Well, and everything else, usually. So, what do you think?”
“Is this really necessary?” I sighed again. I was doing that a lot this morning.
“It’s probably the best option to get rid of him.”
“Ugh. As frustrating as this is, you’re probably right.”
“It’ll be fine, easy even.”
“So, what’s in it for you? I’m not actually going to wake up next to you, you do realize that, right?”
