CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dani
Fake dating Alec quickly became the easiest thing in the world.
My favorite part? The way he kept showing up for my library lunches.
Because the truth was that I didn’t necessarily like being alone for that hour, yet I was too scared of the cafeteria to do anything about it.
So seeing him walk in made me feel… like, some kind of way.
Safe.
Happier…?
Not alone.
“Is that a new book?” he asked one day when he showed up at my table looking ten feet tall, towering above me.
“It is,” I said, taking my foot and pushing out the chair across from me.
“Where’s yourbook?”
He gave me a little half smile as he looked down at the chair; then he sat down and unzipped his backpack. “In here, but my book is much fatter than yours, so I’m still working on it.”
“You don’t have to make excuses for being a slow reader,” I teased. “It’s ne.”
“Please, I could totally kick your ass in a speed-reading competition,” he said, pulling out Billy Summers. “Not that something that nerdy has ever been an actual competitive event.”
“Here.” I pulled the sandwich out of my bag and set it on the table in front of him.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, his eyebrows all squished together as he looked down at it.
“What does it look like? It’s a sandwich,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“First of all, what kind of sandwich, because it looks weird,” he said with a smirk. “Second of all, why did you bring me a sandwich?”
“Because an oversized man-child like you is going to starve to death and probably pass out if he doesn’t eat lunch.”
“Are you concerned about me, Collins?” he asked, his voice dropping into a lower octave that made my stomach ip.
“Not at all, but if you pass out like a little old lady and bash your face on the ground, it’ll make Sarah sad, and I would hate that,” I said with an eye roll. “And it’s ham and cheese.”
“It doesn’t look like ham and cheese,” he said with a scowl, holding up the baggie.
“That’s probably because I couldn’t nd sandwich xings in Grandpa Mick’s kitchen, so it’s queso with Spam. And pickles.”
“Are you serious?” He stared harder at the baggie. “You brought me a Spamwich?”
“It was a last-minute idea, and that was all I could nd in his fridge,” I said, laughing at his ridiculous word.
I went back to my book, but I could see in my peripheral vision when he took out the sandwich and cautiously raised it to his mouth.
“This is… interesting,” he said in a weird voice as he chewed.
“I’m so happy you think it’s delicious,” I replied, my eyes on the pages of my book.
“I don’t think that’s the word I used,” he said.
He opened his book and started reading, and I couldn’t help but notice he nished the entire sandwich as he read. The fact that he’d wolfed it down made me think he was either more polite than I’d given him credit for, or absolutely starving.
We read in silence for the rest of lunch, but when the bell rang and I looked up from my book, he was watching me with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his mouth.
“What?” I said, closing the book and pushing up my glasses. It was impossible not to smile when he looked at me that way.
“The rest of the world just disappears for you when you’re reading, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, thank God,” I said, nodding and unzipping my bag. “It’s like magic.”
“I bet it is,” he said, and I noticed his book was already put away, his backpack on his back.
“Oh, so you’re already packed up,” I said, a little embarrassed that I’d been thatout of it. I quickly shoved my paperback and my water bottle into my bag, zipped it, and stood. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, and then he came around the table to slide those ngers between mine yet again.
The familiarity of the move, the way it was beginning to feel natural even though our game was still new, made me look up at his face.
I wanted to see what he was thinking.
“It’s weird, right?” he said quietly, his eyes all I could see as he read my mind the way he always had when we were kids.
I just nodded, too sucked into his gaze to think of words.
The moment held, and the rest of the world just disappeared like magic for a split second.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob around a swallow, and then he said, “We should go.”
“What?” I blinked and realized there was movement everywhere around us.
The librarian was carrying a stack of books, students were ling through the hallways, and my heart was pounding in my chest.
“Yes,” I said a little too loudly, clearing my throat and nodding. “We should go.”
We walked out of the library, and just as he let go of my hand because we had to go in two dierent directions, he leaned down and said, “Hey, thanks for bringing me a sandwich.”
His eyes were a little squinty as he grinned at me.
“Hey, thanks for eating it,” I said, smiling back at him.
“I’ll never look at Spam the same way again.”
I didn’t see him for the rest of the day or after school, since Cassie whisked me away to ride with her to practice.
Being a team manager, so far, had been easy, and I was actually having a good time.
There were still a million things about hockey I didn’t know, but she was
making it fun to learn.
Weird, right?
“Do you want to lm today, or do you have homework you need to do?”
“I’ll lm,” I said, mostly because I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on homework while Alec was hockeying.
It was becoming a problem. Every day, as soon as I set up the camera and started recording, I couldn’t do anything but watch him play.
I was obsessed.
On each play and on every drill, he played like his life was at stake and the only way he was going to see tomorrow was if he beat the other guy to the puck.
He was beyond impressive.
When the guys nished drills and I was able to hit pause, Cassie walked over and said, “I’ll see you at Vinny’s…?”
“Vinny’s?” I repeated, having zero idea what she was talking about.
“The team dinner is at his house tonight.”
“What? Do hockey managers have to go?” I asked, having no interest whatsoever in going to a team dinner. Me and a table full of obnoxious hockey
players I didn’t know?
No, thank you.
“Yeah, it’s mandatory,” she said, and I felt like she was giving me a little side- eye for sounding so disinterested. “For all players, coaches, managers, and trainers.”
“Oh—I didn’t know,” I said dumbly, as if that weren’t obvious.
But I felt stressfully unprepared for this kind of social interaction.
I needed time to mentally prep for outings.
“It’s tradition,” she said as she put on her coat, “and super chill. It’s usually something like pasta or soup, and you just eat a plate and leave. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed for more than an hour.”
“Oh,” I said, my stomach lling with dread.
“Zeus said you’re riding with him.”
“Oh yeah,” I played along, even though I knew we’d discussed this. My stomach sank deeper inside my body at the thought of unwelcome social interaction while playing pretend with Alec—ugh. “I forgot about the whole thing.”
As if on cue, my mom texted at that very minute: Mom: Sarah says there’s a team dinner after practice tonight—are you going?
I texted: I literally just found out about it. It’s mandatory, apparently.
Mom: Just stick with Alec and you’ll have a great time!
She’d seemed ne with my aversion to social situations before we moved here, but now it was like someone had lit a match under her. It was all the little things
she said, her perky suggestions.
You should go!
Maybe you should see if Cassie wants to study with you at Starbucks.
Do you want to have anyone over for the game?
It kind of made me feel like she thought I was a broken weirdo who needed an intervention before my entire life was ruined. I could feelher stress that I wasn’t running around with a group of friends already, but the truth was that all
the school bullshit wasn’t worth it.
It wasn’t.
I used to do it. I used to move to a new school and work my ass o for friends and sleepovers, feeling like everything was right and settled when I found people I connected with.
And I’d be the rst to admit—that shit felt good.
But eighth grade was a nightmare of mean girls and embarrassment so terrible that I’d been excited to move, and then ninth grade was better but ended up
being the worst.
After I left.
Because the awfulness that came with being forgotten felt ten times worse than the discomfort of assimilation.
It was never intentional, the forgetting, but it was always a given.
At some point, you would just literally never hear from your “best friends” again.
I probably would’ve played that soul-crushing game forever if it hadn’t been for Jackson Ford.
I dated him for six months my freshman year—six months. I’d been head over heels in love with him and it felt like a movie when we were together. I slept in his COIN sweatshirt every night (before his mom made him get it back because it’d cost a hundred bucks at the concert) and he held my hand in the hallways.
We were inseparable.
I’d seen literal tears in his eyes when we said goodbye and I moved away.
We talked on the phone and texted continuously. FaceTimed whenever we could.
But after about a month, he sounded dierent when I called. I convinced myself I was paranoid, but something was o.
And suddenly I was the only one calling.
That should’ve had me prepared for the end, but I’d been stunned when I’d seen the Instagram post making him and Olivia Lowell ocial.
It was a picture of them grinning at the movie theater, holding hands, and he was wearing the COIN sweatshirt that had once been my uniform for dreaming.
They were a couple.
It absolutely destroyed me, but the realization that he hadn’t even felt the need to break up with me was what shattered every little piece of my heart. I’d been so forgotten that it hadn’t even occurred to him that he needed to end our relationship before starting another one.
I was just somebody that he used to know.
I cleared my throat and forced myself back to the present, because revisiting all the crap never helped anything.
It wasa good reminder, though, that all these people I was suddenly spending time with were wrapped up in our fake arrangement and not real at all.
And right on cue, I heard Alec’s voice. “You ready to go, Collins?”
Right. Relationships hurt, and I wasn’t about to let Alec—and the toe- curling smile that dared me to answer—make me forget that.
“Sure.”
Alec pulled up in front of a cute yellow house and put the car in park. There were a lot of cars lined up on the street, so we denitely weren’t the rst ones to arrive.
I took a deep breath through my nose, wishing I’d just said no to this. I was new enough that no one would’ve missed me.
“So what do I need to know about this dinner?” I asked, my stomach lled with butteries at the thought of walking into a house full of people I didn’t know.
“You eat,” he said, shrugging. “That’s it.”
“Wow, you’ve really illuminated what I can expect from this experience, thank you.” I pushed open the car door and stepped out, wondering if I’d ever stop gasping at the wicked snap of the cold on my skin.
And it was snowing hard now, big, fat akes that slapped you in the face.
“It’s just something the parents do to make sure we have a good meal the night before a game,” he said as we both walked toward the driveway. “Nothing
to overthink.”
He didn’t know that was all I did.
Overthink.
“I feel like my sandwich might’ve ruined other meals for you, though,” I said, lling the quiet of the night with rambling to cover my nerves.
“For the record, today’s sandwich was actually not bad,” he lied. I was sure of it.
When we got to the front door, Alec didn’t knock or ring the doorbell—he just walked in.
I followed, having zero idea what to expect as we stepped inside.
Ahhhh, warmth.
“Alec!” A woman, presumably Vinny’s mom, looked over from where she was standing in front of the sink and smiled before she set down the towel she was holding and came over. She was wearing jeans and a Packers crewneck, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she smiled like she loved us. “The guys —and Cassie—are out in the garage already. You must be Dani.”
“Hi,” I said, nodding, a little surprised she knew of me when I’d only just found out I was coming.
“Are you adjusting to the weather yet?” she asked. “Big John said you’re not a fan.”
She knows Big John and they’ve discussed me?
I was so confused by this place. Why in God’s name would Iever come up in conversation?
“I mean, it’s brutal, right?” I said. “It’s snowed every day since we moved here.”
“Believe it or not, you’ll adjust,” she said warmly, like she really wished the best for me. “So what do you think of hockey so far?”
“She thinks I look hot in my breezers,” Alec said with a grin, and then he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. “Right?”
I rolled my eyes while every nerve ending in my body shorted out. I was impressed by how chill I sounded when I said, “No one has ever looked hotter in tiny padded pants.”
That made Vinny’s mom laugh, and before I had a second to say anything else, Alec’s hand slid down to mine and he was pulling me away from her and toward what looked to be the patio door.
Now he’s holding my hand in front of adults.
He’d held it at school, but this felt like more somehow.
Tighter. More physical.
I said, “Don’t you think this is a bit much—”
“Hard launch for the over-eighteen crowd, baby,” he said in my ear, his voice deep and quiet and for some reason making my heart beat just a little faster.
Probably just because he’d startled me.
But… baby.
“Oh,” I managed, looking at his face while my brain just kept repeating, He’s holding your hand like that he’s holding your hand like that Alec Barczewski is
holding your hand.
Like that.
“Come on.” He opened the sliding glass door, then let go of my hand the minute we stepped outside in the cold, dark, snowy evening. The snow seemed to insulate the world, making it strangely quiet as he closed the door behind us.
It was freezing, so I cleared my throat and said, “Are we seriously going to eat in the garage? Won’t we freeze to death?”
“Oh, Dani,” he said, shaking his head like I was a ridiculous child. “It’s like you’ve never seen the inside of a Minnesotan garage before.”
I followed him through the backyard and out to the detached yellow garage that matched the house. When he pulled open the door that was right beside the two-car overhead door, I was shocked to feel warmth.
To see bright lights.
To hear noise.
We walked in, and the garage barely resembled a garage at all.
It had shiny oors and nished walls, so the space felt more like a basement rec room than a place to park cars. There were three TVs mounted on a wall covered with sports posters, and two refrigerators sat underneath them.
Neon beer signs hung on the other wall, above a line of tables that were set up as a slow cooker–rich buet, and I half expected to see servers and bartenders milling about the place.
In the center, a bunch of rectangular multipurpose tables had been shoved together to form a supertable (with PACKERS HOCKEY tablecloths, of course), which was where the team appeared to be sitting.
Coach Osman was standing next to the refrigerators, talking to the other coaches and some guys who I assumed were team dads, and I felt like they were all looking at us as the door closed behind us.
Probably just paranoia.
“Danigirl!”
Big John stood on the other side of the garage with a couple of the guys I’d met at his house during dinner my rst night in town.
Just seeing him made me feel a little more comfortable as I waved back.
I heard multiple people shout “Zeus!” but Alec was looking at mewhen he said, “Should we get some food?”
I nodded, eyeing the three dierent kinds of casseroles, four dierent types of pasta, three dierent sauces, and the two lasagnas displayed on the table.
Oh—and three kinds of bread.
These moms were notplaying.
We lled our plates and sat down at a table beside Cassie just as Kyle said, “No, they’re my dad’s venison meatballs.”
Venison meatballs?
I didn’t say anything, but I must’ve made a face because Alec said, “I promise they’re good.”
I shrugged like I had no issues with Bambi meatballs because I knew it was technically the same, right? Cow or deer, either one had me eating an animal.
“I’m sure they are.”
But something about the cuteness of deer messed with me for no good reason whatsoever.
“If they’re your dad’s,” Cassie said to Kyle, “then my dad helped.”
“True,” Richie agreed.
“They cook together?” I asked. “That’s really nice.”
“That’s not exactly it; it’s not that sweet,” Alec said, smirking.
“Yeah, no,” Cassie interrupted, shaking her head. “Our dads all have this little… shit, I don’t know what you’d even label it. Call chain, maybe…?”
“On-call group,” Kyle corrected, nodding.
“Yeah,” Alec agreed.
“During hunting season, if one of them bags a deer, they put it out on the group text so by the time they get home, each person in the group is already there and waiting to help break down the deer,” Cassie explained.
“Big John still tells the story,” Richie said, “of the time Cassie came out to where they were breaking down a deer, and peed her pants.”
“Shut up,” she said, but she was laughing. “First of all, I was three. Second, no one warned me I’d be walking into a scene from a horror movie or I would’ve hit
the bathroom rst.”
“Mm-hmm,” Kyle said with a grin.
“Third,” she said, ipping him o, “Big John gave me twenty bucks to stop crying, so I think I was actually the winner.”
“Are you saying twenty bucks can erase childhood trauma?” Alec said.
“I’m saying twenty bucks bought two kick-ass Barbies.”
The four of them started laughing—I mean, I did too—but I felt a pang of envy in my stomach for what they had, what I would never have. There was this
long-game history between all of them, a braided-together past that made them
more like cousins than friends.
I wondered what that felt like.
Everyone smiling and reminiscing about the collections of stories they didn’t run out of telling—it was warmth and sunshine, and I was jealous.
Just as I was thinking that, the basket holding the plastic forks toppled over as Big John stumbled into the table, grasping his knee and grimacing in pain.
“Dad!” Alec jumped out of his chair and was at his dad’s side in an instant, joining another guy in helping Big John right himself. He hadn’t gone all the way down, but it’d been close. They each grabbed an arm, and my heart sank as Big John plastered a smile onto his face, dismissing their help.
“Damn leg keeps locking on me whenever I stand up. I’m ne,” he said, as if
it happened all the time.”
Wait. Did this happen all the time?
“Give us the word and we’ll get one of the boys here to give you a piggyback
ride,” Vinny’s mom said.
And she laughed.
And Big John laughed.
Everyone laughed.
Everyone except Alec.
