With a huff, Bryant finally swivels the screen around. I peer at the headline:Hockey Player & Designer Save The Day.
That must be theSan Francisco Neighborhoodssite.
I read on.
At last night’s opening of Games People Play, hockey star Ford Devon and his new girlfriend, savvy podcaster and designer Skylar Haven, saved the day when the party ran out of champagne…
My first thought is thatgirlfriendis a really nice word.
My second thought isGet it together,since she’s not your real girlfriend.
My third is I’m so glad the reporter identified her by name and occupation. Not simply asmygirlfriend. Because any woman is so much more than her relation to a man. Fucking love that she earned as much attention as I did in the piece. Love it so much an irritating smile tugs at my lips. Irritating because my teammates are going to notice it in three, two, one?—
“Aww. Devon’s happy, boys,” Wesley says to the whole damn team, pointing at me before leveling me with a sharp stare. “When were you going to tell us about how happy you are, dude?”
Thatdudesays they’re never going to let me live this down.Thisbeing finding out on a neighborhood site that I’m…dating.
Fake dating, you ass.
Shit. The voice in my head is right. I’m fake dating. And I’d do well to remember that.
I square my shoulders. “What can I say? You’ve seen the marriage proposals I get from the fans. I’m just…irresistible.”
I leave, texting the article to Skylar before I hit the ice, knowing she’s the one who’s irresistible.
When practice ends, I practically jump on my phone, hunting for a response from Skylar. And there it is.
Skylar: We’re famous!
Ford: I saw.
Skylar: Also, we look hot.
Ford: You do.
Skylar: Shut up. You do too. Say it. Say ‘I look hot.’
Ford: You look hot.
Skylar: That’s not what I want you to say.
Ford: Fine. We look hot.
There’s a pause—just bubbles dancing—then a reply.
Skylar: I’m practicing our cute couple pose for the Phoenix game.
It takes me a beat, but then I connect the dots. Right. Our next fake-dating appearance. Because that’s what this is. We look hot as a fake couple. We’re believable as a pretend romance. But isn’t that what I said last night? We’re good at faking it.
That’s fine by me. Faking it is totally fine with me.
Only, I don’t quite buy that the way I used to.
That afternoon, I leash up Zamboni and take her for a walk, then hop into the car. I need to drop her at the dog hotel so I can catch a flight out of here for a short roadtrip. As I head to the car, though, my gaze strays to Skylar’s home.
Is she inside right now? Working on a plan for the cabinets for my parents’ place? Dreaming up new merch for her judgy dog and his doggie-style critiques?
Stop. Just stop.
