Page 21 of Faking the Face Off

The shiver rushing across my skin is as thick and real as breathing itself. As his breath hits my cheek, something is waking up inside of me, and while I want to blame it on not having any lunch, I’m pretty sure that the fine line I’m walking with Ollie is about to get clouded over. The way my body is reacting is like nothing I’ve felt before with him, and it’s adding a layer of confusion that this already insane day doesn’t need.

He hits a countdown timer and then presses his cheek so it’s against mine, and I let my eyes slide to the side in an attempt to see what he’s doing.

“Smile,” he says as a series of flashes go off, taking several pics of us at once. When they stop, he drops his arm and steps away. The cold of the night air once again rushing in to greet me.

“I’m going to talk to Sutton tomorrow,” I say, my voice firmer than I expect as I try to shake off whatever emotional response this is. “I’ll let her know what we’ve agreed to do.”

His brows lift slightly, a flicker of approval flashing across his face. “Thanks, Anna, for telling me everything. It couldn’t have been easy to come here and tell me not only about your dad, but also about what you heard them say about me.”

The words shouldn’t hold as much weight as they do, but they linger in the space between us, filling the silence with something unspoken. I’m not sure what to do, so I do what feels natural: reach out and take his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for listening,” I manage, fighting back unseen tears. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I step onto the porch, the night wrapping around me like a familiar, restless friend, and I take a deep breath, my fingers brushing against the cool metal of the railing as I descend the steps. There’s a shift in the air, like something just out of reach is waiting, watching, ready to tip one way or the other.

As I walk toward my car, I turn around only to find Ollie still standing in place on the porch, watching me. This is when I feel it—I can feel hope and uncertainty intertwining in my chest. Whatever this is, whateverweare, it feels like standing on the edge of something that is steeper than I originally thought. Like an iceberg, where you can only see the tip so things look safe, but what you don’t know is that the true beast is all underneath the surface and you need to go easy. If I look at it this way, we’re either gonna sink…or we’re gonna swim.

And I’m not sure which outcome scares me more.

CHAPTER 8

OLLIE

My lucky game day routine when we’re on home turf is simple: I wake up, eat a huge six egg breakfast complete with sausages and Canadian bacon at the Beavertail Diner, then I go home and chill out until it’s time to put my suit on.

“What are you staring at?”

My eyes flick to Dixon, who sits across from me at the diner, which is down the street from the arena. I usually do this alone, but I was feeling generous today and Dixon looked lonely.

My eyes slam back to the phone in my hand, where a picture of me and Anna sits on the screen. We snapped it last night when her eyes were still a little puffy, but the picture that works best is one where she’s giving me a little bit of side-eye while I stare at the camera, grinning like a fool. It’s a good pic, really. Would be a greater one if it was real.

“Nothing.” I close the screen and shove my phone back in my pocket. I know that photo won’t post itself, but I’ll do it when I’m ready. “Just checking my emails.”

“Sure you are.” Dixon purses his lips together and watches me. “I didn’t want to ask last night, but what happened with Danny?”

“Panic attack at work,” I say, picking up a fork and toying with it. “But Anna said he’s going home later today.”

“Panic attack?” Dixon shakes his head as he looks around the café. “That must have been scary for both of them.”

“Anna was pretty freaked out, but she said Danny is brushing it off, which makes her crazy.”

“It’s a good thing she has you.”

“It’s a good thing I have her,” I toss back.

“Touché.” He chuckles as our server arrives, dropping off our giant breakfast plates, piled higher than they should be. She hovers a moment at the table. Long enough that it gets uncomfortable, so Dixon turns her way.

“Yes?” he asks.

“You’re on the Renegades, right?” she questions.

We both nod and she beams, pulling her cell phone out of an apron pocket.

“I thought so.” She looks at both of us, her eyes bouncing from one to the other. “Can I please take a picture? My dad and brother are going to love this.”

Dixon’s smile is easy. “Love to.”

“Amazing!”

---