Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 67: Chapter 67

EMILIA
I guess sometimes you have to be shivering, bone-deep cold before you can rethink your life choices.
I surface, coughing and laughing, water streaming down my face. Liam comes up right after me, spluttering.
“You pulled us over!”
“You leaned!”
“You panicked!”
“I laughed!”
He glares at me, soaking wet, hair stuck to his forehead. “You owe me dry clothes.”
“Says the one who was just boasting about his steering technique! Look, now my cardigan’s all wet.”
If possible, his glare intensifies. “It’s not even yours.”
Details, details.
We tread water for a moment, breathing hard, the air quiet around us except for our laughter and the gentle ripple of waves. Despite everything — despite the bickering and the shivering — I don’t want to be anywhere else.
Or maybe just in Tessa’s expensive apartment cuddled up in her throw blanket and drinking out of her expensive wine supply, while she burns down the kitchen.
At least the fire will provide some warmth.
Eventually, he paddles toward the dock, grabs the edge, and offers me his hand. I hesitate for a half-second, then take it. His grip is firm and warm, even with the water.
When I’m up, he doesn’t let go right away.
Neither do I.
We stand there for a beat too long, dripping onto the wood, hands still clasped like we’re not quite sure what to do now that we’re out of the water.
His thumb brushes the back of my hand—just barely—and I feel it everywhere.
He clears his throat, finally letting go. “You know, most fake couples don’t fall into lakes. It’s bad for the brand.”
I wrap my arms around myself, teeth chattering. “Well, I guess we’re trailblazers.”
Liam snorts under his breath and runs a hand through his soaked hair. It flops right back into his eyes. He looks like a kicked puppy and a shampoo commercial at the same time. Unfortunately for me, it’s kind of a devastating combo.
I glance down at my cardigan. “This is going to smell like lake forever.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to warm himself through sheer force of will. “I’ll invoice you for emotional damages.”
“I’ll invoice you for slander. I did not pull us in.”
“You laughed so hard you tipped the boat, Emilia.”
“I was laughing at you, not physics!”
He just shakes his head, the tiniest smile playing at the corner of his mouth. It’s not the usual smirk, not the cocky thing he throws around like a weapon. It’s something quieter. Gentler.
I pretend not to notice how nice it looks on him.
“Come on,” he says, brushing a wet leaf off my shoulder. “Let’s find somewhere to dry off before we both freeze and end up as a very dramatic cautionary tale.”
We start walking, shoes squelching with every step. There’s a moment where our shoulders bump, and neither of us moves away.
A group of tourists walks past, and a few people definitely recognize Liam. One even raises their phone for a photo.
“You think Becca’s crew caught that on camera?” I ask, glancing back toward the water.
“Personally, I think they’re more busy with filming the bride to be,” Liam says, with a sideways glance at me, “but since the groom’s a no-show, we’re the next best thing.”
“Yes. And the most humble one too,” I joke, then frown at my wet shoes. They were one of my favourite pairs too. “I hope he gets better before the wedding.”
Liam lets out a snort as we find a staff member who offers us some clean towels. He passes one to me without a word, his fingers brushing mine, and it’s warm in a way that makes me feel it more than I probably should.
I wrap the towel around my shoulders, rubbing my arms beneath it, and sink onto one of the lounge chairs. Liam tosses me a second towel without a word, then flops down beside me with a heavy sigh.
“I can’t feel my spine,” I mumble.
“Same,” he says, kicking his wet shoes off and setting them under the chair. “I think my ribs are actually shivering.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the warmth from the heaters gradually starting to seep into our soaked clothes. I sneak a glance at him.
His hair is still wet, dripping onto the collar of his shirt. There’s a stubborn little curl that’s stuck to his temple, and I want to reach over and fix it. Just brush it away with my fingers and maybe keep my hand there. On his cheek. For a second.
Or more.
I don’t move.
He catches me staring. Of course he does. “What?” he asks softly.
I shake my head, suddenly flustered. “Nothing.”
“You know, you really should stop lying, Emilia. Or at least do it in small doses. If you think I look like a Disney Prince, you should just say so.”
That gets a surprised laugh out of me. “Do you even know any Disney Princes?”
He raises a brow. “I think you underestimate the influence my sisters had on me.” His smile softens into something quieter. He leans back in his chair, towel draped loosely over his shoulders, and lets his gaze drift to the horizon. “It’s nice here. The cruise gets so loud with so many people on board, I thought I’d never find some peace and quiet. Or a moment where Lacey is completely sober.”
“Is she? I saw her drinking something out of a plastic cup.”
“Shit.”
I nod, the tension slowly bleeding out of me. “I thought I was going to be miserable on the cruise. Actually, it’s so stupid of me, coming to my ex’s wedding,” my lips quirk into a smile, “you don’t even find that kind of stupid in Bollywood dramas. But thank you, for not making me feel as miserable as I should. And being there every time shit hit the fan.”
The air between is more serious now, so much so I’m scared to hear whatever he has to say next. “It’s kind of my job, I’d feel shitty if you had to thank me for something like that.” His eyes are always kind when they’re locked with mine. Even when their glare is pointed at me. What a horrible realisation. “Besides, if you ever want to get out of this place, I’ll be right beside you. But now?”
I shrug, pulling the towel tighter. “Now I’ve fallen into a lake and might be getting trench foot, so it’s still a lot. But also… not bad.”
He looks at me again. Really looks at me.
“Not bad,” he echoes. “High praise.”
I laugh under my breath, but the warmth in my chest isn’t from the heater anymore.
Then he says, quieter this time, “You really hope Zane gets better?”
I glance at him, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know. I guess I just think… if you’re going to promise forever, you should at least show up for the short term. He never did that with me, but then again he was never really in it for forever,” I frown a little. “I just hoped things would be different with Becca. She’s not my favourite person in the world, but every girl deserves someone who’ll show up. Always.”
Liam’s jaw tightens, barely. “Yeah. You’re right.”
There’s something behind his voice — something sharp and intense — and I want to ask. But I also don’t want to break the fragile kind of peace sitting between us right now.
So instead, I nudge his knee with mine. “Hey. Thanks for not letting me drown.”
He turns to me, lips tugging into a grin. “You’re welcome. I had to preserve my reputation. Letting a girl drown on a fake date would be bad PR.”
“Fake or not, you were very gallant.”
“Yeah?” he says, voice low and teasing. “You swooning yet?”
“Absolutely. I may faint any moment now.”
His knee nudges mine back. The silence that follows feels... different. He doesn’t look away.
“I wasn’t just joking about the kiss, you know,” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
My breath catches.
He leans in slightly, testing, not rushing. “I mean… I know we’re playing pretend. I know that. But when you kissed me—”
“I know,” I whisper, because I did. I do.
His hand slides across the space between us and rests over mine, slow and careful, like he’s waiting for me to pull away. I don’t.
“I didn’t expect it to feel like that,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to feel like that.”
It would be easier to joke. To toss my head and tease him. But there’s a rawness in his voice that asks for honesty. So I give it.
“Me either.”
Our fingers tangle quietly, and this time, it’s not because of the cameras. Not because we’re trying to look the part.
“Or maybe I think I did,” his smile is soft. “It was everything I imagined, actually.”
I suck in a breath.
It’s just him. And me. And a little patch of sun-dappled warmth in the middle of Mackinac Island.
And maybe it’s stupid and too soon and a very bad idea — but it feels real. All of it.
He shifts closer. I feel his breath on my cheek. My heart stumbles somewhere in my chest.
“If I kissed you again,” he murmurs, “it wouldn’t be fake.”
My mouth is suddenly very dry. “I know.”
We’re leaning in now. Slowly. Carefully. Testing the moment like it might break under the weight of it.
But it doesn’t.
This time, when our lips meet, there’s no Julie to interrupt the moment. No charade. No act.
Just us.
Just warmth and sun and damp towels and the soft hush of lake water behind us.
And his hand on my cheek.
And mine on his chest.
And the kind of kiss that rewrites a little bit of everything.