Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 48: Chapter 48

LIAM
The party roars on behind me — music thumping, glasses clinking, someone belting out an off-key rendition of some early 2000s pop hit.
I don’t turn. I don’t care.
The ocean stretches endlessly before me, dark and shifting, waves rolling in and out as if they have all the time in the world. As if they didn’t just witness Emilia press her tongue to Zane’s skin.
My grip tightens around my glass.
It was a game. Just a stupid drinking game.
And yet my jaw is clenched, my pulse thrumming.
I tell myself it’s nothing. A moment that will be forgotten by morning, buried under rounds of tequila and poor decisions.
But the thought still lingers — if it was just a game, why did she look away so quickly afterward?
I can still feel the heat of Emilia’s body beneath my hands. Remember every shiver a flick from my tongue pulled out of her.
Then images of her hands on Zane’s chest, her tongue against his skin.
The way he looked at me with that look of disbelief mixed with smugness.
I could read his mind at that very moment. He couldn’t understand how the girl he left behind could be chosen by someone else. But he was glad to have her on him, like he could still control her again.
I take in a deep breath and rein in my irritation.
What a fucktard.
I wonder what mental facility Emilia was shoved in to believe that guy was someone who could treat her right.
She deserves so much better than whatever comes with Zane.
Footsteps approach, light and familiar. I don’t even turn when she steps up beside me — I knew she would.
Emilia leans against the rail, the night breeze teasing strands of curly hair across her face. She smells like tequila and citrus and something warmer, something uniquely her.
I don’t speak. Neither does she.
She shifts beside me, like she’s searching for the right words.
But I don’t want to hear anything about how she can’t move on from him or how the body shots messed with her head so I beat her to it. “Had fun?”
She gives me an odd look. It’s obvious she’s more than just a little tipsy if all the tequila she’s been throwing back is any indication. “Yeah. I did karaoke with Tonia and a few of those tech bros. They’re actually cool. You should’ve come.”
My lips curl, but it’s not quite a smile. “Must’ve missed the invitation.”
I say the words absentmindedly, but bitterness that takes me aback slips in.
There’s a beat of silence. Then — her smile falters.
Damn it.
It pisses me off more than it should.
She’s too pretty to be looking at me like that. Like I’ve ruined something. Like I matter enough to ruin anything.
“You’re acting weird,” she mutters, tilting her head.
Her tone is casual, but it grates. That easy indifference. That clueless look. Like she doesn’t know what she does to me. “What?” I bite out. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself. Didn’t seem like you needed me around.”
Her head whips toward me, eyes narrowing. “Oh, so that’s what this is about.”
I raise a brow. “What are you talking about?”
She shakes her head, a bitter laugh slipping out. “You know, for someone who claims not to care, you’re acting pretty —”
She stops herself.
But it’s too late.
I watch her, my smirk still in place, even as something coils tight in my chest.
“Pretty what?” I press.
She doesn’t finish the sentence. Just stares at me like she’s trying to read something on my face.
“You have nothing to say now?” I muse.
She exhales, running a hand through her hair, it gets tangled in the curls and she winces. “I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”
I should let it go.
But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Zane across the deck. One hand curled around Becca’s waist, laughing at something she whispered in his ear.
The coil inside me pulls tighter.
“Listen,” I start, knowing full well I’m about to piss her off. “I don’t care what’s going on in your head, or what you’re still holding onto with him, but if you’re going to ignore me to sulk over your ex, at least give me a heads-up.”
Her arms fold across her chest, disbelief flickering across her face. “Excuse me?”
I sigh, swirling my drink. “You were fine playing that game with me. But the second it was him, you froze.”
“Because I loved him, Liam. When it’s with you I know it’s not real. It… you don’t mean anything to me.” She exhales sharply. I flinch. I don’t mean to, but I do. She’s too tipsy to notice. “And I knew what Becca was doing. She wanted a reaction.”
The words hit harder than they should. She says them like they’re just facts. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. I want to laugh, but the sound would come out broken. “Did she get one?”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re impossible.”
No, you’re the impossible one.
Standing there like it didn’t just cost you nothing to say I mean less than some guy who already walked away from you.
Frustration crashes into me — sharp, hot, messy. It burns through my chest and settles in my throat.
I drag a hand through my hair, gripping the strands at the back of my neck like I can pull the feelings out of me.
But they stay.
The anger. The sting.
The way her words keep echoing — You don’t mean anything to me.
God. I don’t even know why it hurts this much.
Except I do.
Because I want to mean something.
I want to be someone to her.
Someone important, someone valuable, someone who’ll have some sort of place in her heart.
Someone who she’ll think twice about before saying they mean nothing.
God, it hurts to think.
“Emilia, you’re avoiding the question.”
Her eyes flash. “And you — why do you care so much?”
“What? You think I’m jealous?”
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches me like she already knows the answer.
I force out a laugh, lift my drink to my lips like I don’t feel like I’m coming undone. “Right. Because I so desperately wanted to be in his place.”
Her eyes flicker — something cracks there. Hurt, maybe. Guilt. But it’s gone too fast. Like she’s trained herself not to let me see it.
She lifts her chin. “You didn’t have a problem when it was you.”
My smirk comes automatically, but it’s all teeth and no warmth.
“That’s because I don’t mean anything to you, right?”
I say it lightly, but the words scrape on the way out.
Because they feel true.
And they shouldn't.
I don’t want them to.
I look at her, waiting for her to deny it.
To say ‘that’s not what I meant’, or ‘you’re wrong’.
But she doesn’t.
And that silence?
That silence punches harder than anything else she’s said tonight.
Her breath hitches.
For a second, she just looks at me. Then —
“Exactly.”
The word is a blade.
And for some reason, it cuts.
I force out a laugh, shaking my head. “There’s still time to get your man back, ruin the wedding. Maybe even become his Mrs in the process —”
The slap comes fast and leaves a sharp sting in its wake.
I’ll be lying if I said I didn’t expect it.
My head jerks to the side.
I let out a slow breath, flexing my jaw as my cheek throbs.
Her hands are trembling.
The urge to take them in mine eats at me. But it’s not the time.. especially when I’m the one who made them like that.
Her eyes are filled with tears I didn’t see when I looked away.
She hides her hands behind her back but it’s too late. I already saw.
Shit.
“You’re nothing but an entitled asshole,” she spits, voice shaking. “Who are you to judge me? Or make assumptions about me?”
She lets out a harsh laugh, rubbing her palm where it met my face. “You don’t do relationships, right? Too afraid to feel something real? Maybe I’m this slut in your head, ready to steal another girl’s man, but at least I let myself love. It’s no wonder Mar and Elijah can’t stand you. I don’t know how you stand yourself.”
She takes a breath, like she’s waiting for something.
Anything.
But I stay silent. It’s not like she’s wrong. Everything she said is the truth.
I just wish it could be different with her.
“I’m sorry, Emilia,” it stings. Something in my chest aches so much I can hardly breathe. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
Her shoulders rise and fall with the effort of holding it together.
Then she shakes her head and turns away.
It takes everything in me, but I don’t stop her.