Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 54: Chapter 54

TESSA
ONE YEAR AGO
I’m walking down the hallway, hunting for Mr. Harris — my boss who definitely gets a kick out of mispronouncing my last name.
It’s Orlov.
Not Ralov.
Thanks for nothing, Dad. Pretty much the only thing he gave me was a last name people can’t say right.
Just as I’m about to round the corner, someone yanks me into an open door.
I nearly scream — until I see him.
Those grey-blue eyes. That stupid heart-melting smile.
“You really couldn’t wait ‘til I clocked out, huh?” I breathe out, pulse still racing.
Lyle’s standing there, leaning in close. His strawberry blond hair is damp — probably sweat — and somehow, it makes him look even hotter. It should be illegal.
My heart skips. Then trips. Then forgets how to beat entirely.
“It takes everything in me not to lock you in my apartment and throw away the key,” he says, voice low and rough, “just so no one else can even look at you.”
God. He really knows how to talk.
I laugh, but there’s no real joy in it. I push at his chest, trying to ignore how solid and warm he feels under my hands. “So what? I get locked up while you parade your hookups around like trophies?”
He groans, head falling into the crook of my neck like he belongs there. I hate how right it feels. I hate how good he smells — sweat, citrusy shampoo, and something that’s just him.
“Don’t be like that, gorgeous,” he murmurs against my skin. “You know it’s not that simple.”
I swallow hard. My head’s screaming at me to run. My heart’s already halfway gone.
“Sure I do,” I whisper. Then louder, sharper: “Now get the hell off me, Lyle. I’m at work.”
He lifts his head slowly, that lazy, crooked smile spreading across his lips. “No one’s gonna bother us in here.”
“That’s not what I mea—”
But his mouth is already on mine, cutting me off completely.
The moment his lips touch mine, everything else melts away. The sting in my chest, the confusion, the guilt — all gone. His kiss is warm, hungry, and so familiar it makes my knees weak.
When his tongue brushes mine, a soft sound escapes me — like I’ve been holding my breath since the last time he touched me.
His fingers slide into my hair, gripping just tight enough to make me gasp. I find myself rising on my toes, chasing his lips like I need them to breathe.
And then — just as suddenly — he pulls away.
I blink up at him, lips tingling, chest heaving. His eyes are hooded, stormy, but there’s a wicked little smirk on his face.
“What were you saying, gorgeous?” he asks, voice low and smug.
I try to focus, to remember what I was even thinking before he kissed me senseless. “That… this is a horrible idea.”
His smile deepens as he leans in close, lips brushing against mine again, just enough to make me shiver.
“Good,” he whispers. “Those are always my favourite kind.”
Lyle’s lips find mine again, slow and hungry. His hands roam up my sides, and I melt into his touch without thinking. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I let out a soft moan as his hands slip beneath my shirt.
He pulls back, just a little, his breath mingling with mine. Then his lips trail kisses down my jaw, over my neck, and lower. He sinks to his knees, fisting my shirt as he looks up at me. “Hold this up.”
I listen, finally giving him the view he wants. He’s halfway through tugging down my shorts when he inhales sharply. He tugs on the hem of my lace panties and looks up at me, the heat in his eyes undeniable.
“This new?”
My mind’s a mess, from the heat of him against my skin, the high of knowing he’s come back to me after weeks of pushing me away. I can barely understand what he means, much less form a coherent thought, but I try.
“Do you mean…” I manage, breathless. “The panties? The piercing? Or the tattoo?”
Lyle's lips part like he’s about to answer, but he never gets the chance.
Loud voices echo from the hallway. Then the door bursts open.
“I’m sure he went this w— What the actual—”
I shove Lyle off me so fast he lands on his back, groaning. I scramble to fix my top, heat rushing up my neck. My eyes snap to the doorway — Liam.
Thank God he’s at least decent enough to look away.
“Yeah, he’s not here,” Liam blurts out to whoever’s behind him. He tries to shut the door quickly, but it’s too late..
“Hm? That can’t be right,” a familiar face leans into the doorway, raising a perfect brow at the scene. His eyes flick between me, Lyle, and my still-wrinkled clothes, then he shakes his head and lets out a snort.
“You can’t possibly be that desperate.” Aaron Cobalt, someone I’ve only ever seen on media outlets, says with so much condescension my entire body flushes red.
But that’s not the worst part.
Later, when Mr. Harris has the bright idea to reintroduce me to the team, for the sake of draft picks and newly traded players. Aaron crossed his arms from across the room, eyeing me with a look of disgust. He scoffs. “You?”
PRESENT DAY
Yeah, Aaron Cobalt is an asshole.
And no amount of car rides and bashful behaviour can make up for it.
“This is me,” I say, my voice clipped, as he pulls up outside my apartment. “Thanks for the ride.”
He doesn’t reply.
Fine by me.
I reach for the handle and step out, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. The night air hits my face, cooler than expected, and I head for the building. But something makes me pause.
I glance back.
He’s still parked there.
I can’t see his face through the tinted glass, but the headlights haven’t moved, the engine still running like he’s waiting for… something.
Then, finally, the car rolls forward and disappears down the street.
Thank God for small mercies.
I’ve barely made it halfway through the door when my phone lights up.
Lyle: Come over?
I stare at the screen for a second, lips pressed tight. It was always easier to pretend I didn’t care when he wasn’t texting. When he wasn’t calling. When he was just… gone.
But now?
Now, I can feel every ounce of hurt and jealousy bubbling back up.
Me: What? Got bored of the model already?
Lyle: You know none of them could ever compare to you, gorgeous.
I actually let out a soft, bitter laugh. Seriously?
I leave him on read, and it must hit him. He’s losing his grip. Good.
Lyle: Please, my gorgeous girl. You’ll come, won’t you?
Lyle: I’m sorry I left you behind. I didn’t mean to. Let me make it up to you.
I still don’t reply. My fingers hover over the keyboard, heart racing.
Lyle: Tessa, I want you. I need you.
Lyle: Only you.
Lyle: Please, Tessa. Just give me one more chance.
And just like that… I fold.
Because even when I know better, he says the right things in the exact wrong way, and suddenly I’m a puddle. My eyes sting, my chest tight.
God, why does this always feel like a war I can’t win?
I’d given Emilia so much grief about Zane. Swore I’d never be that girl. But at least she found a way to let go.
Me: It’s 2AM.
Lyle: I’ll send a car. Just say yes. I’ll do anything for you.
My fingers shake.
Me: I’ll be there.
By morning, I wake up in an empty bed.
There’s a note on the nightstand.
“Hide the key under the mat. I’ll call you.”
That’s it.
I rub at my throat — it’s sore. Figures.
Dragging myself out of bed, I grab my phone and waddle over to the bathroom, barely making it before I could embarrass myself. Once I sit, I sigh in relief and unlock my phone to check my notifications.
I take my sigh back. In fact, I can’t believe my eyes. My mouth drops.
WHAT THE—
“What the actual fuck is this?!”