Page 58 of Faking It with the Bad Boy

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?" His voice was soft. "Or would you have thought it was just another role I was playing? Thehockey player pretending to care about old books to impress the museum girl?"

Before I could answer, voices echoed from the hallway - his teammates, by the sound of it. Jack tensed but didn't move to hide the books or his glasses or this whole hidden side of himself.

Mike's head appeared around the door. "Cap? Practice started ten min—oh." His eyes widened, taking in the scene. "Oh. OH."

"Mike—"

"No, no, this is perfect!" Mike grinned, already pulling out his phone. "Coach was just saying how we needed proof you were actually studying and not just claiming academic stuff as an excuse to spend time with Sophie. But this is, like, next level commitment to the bit. Even got the glasses and everything."

"It's not a bit," Jack said quietly.

Mike's phone lowered slightly. "What?"

"The books. The research. The..." Jack gestured vaguely at himself at the careful arrangement of valuable volumes. "It's not an act. This is just me."

The silence that followed was deafening. Mike looked from Jack to the books to me and back again, his entire worldview visibly reshuffling.

"Huh," he finally said. "So all those times you corrected my essays..."

"Actually knew what I was talking about, yes."

"And when you helped Tommy with his literature midterm..."

"Actually understood the material."

"And when you quoted that fancy poem during playoffs..."

"Actually read poetry."

Mike considered this. "Does this mean you understand all that Victorian medical stuff Sophie talks about?"

"Most of it."

"Dude." Mike's grin returned, wider than ever. "Our captain's a secret nerd. This is amazing. Wait till the team hears—"

"Mike." Jack's voice held a warning.

"No, seriously, this is great! Do you know how Coach keeps saying we need to improve our image with the academic board? What better way than having our captain be an actual book-loving, poetry-reading, medical history guy?"

I watched Jack carefully, saw the moment he made his decision. The careful masks he'd worn for so long were cracking, showing glimpses of something real underneath.

"There's this collection of early sports medicine texts," he said slowly. "Nineteenth-century studies on athletic recovery and injury treatment. Been thinking the team might benefit from understanding the history behind modern training methods."

Mike's eyes lit up. "Does it have those creepy old surgical diagrams? Because those would look awesome in the locker room."

"I'll talk to the museum about a display," I found myself offering. "Maybe a series on the evolution of sports medicine?"

Jack looked at me like I'd just handed him something precious. Something real.

"Team meeting in ten," Mike said, backing toward the door. "But this conversation isn't over, Cap. We'll definitely discuss your secret library life later."

After he left, Jack turned to me. "A museum display?"

"Well, these books shouldn't stay hidden in the rare book room at midnight. Some things deserve to be seen. To be real."

His smile was soft. "Some things are worth taking the risk of finding out if it’s real?"

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