Page 20 of Snowed In With the PUCK

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of our situation come crashing down on me again. This fake dating would be easy peasy if I wasn’t ten out of ten attracted to her. I keep trying to push it away, but it’s ever present. It’s easy to focus on the thrill of the game, the camaraderie of the team, but here in the stillness of the car the reality of our arrangement whirls between us like a snowstorm.

“Listen,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road, “I know we’ve been thrown into this fake relationship thing without much discussion—to be fair, without any discussion. How are you holding up? All we have to do is put on a good front.”

“Exactly,” she replies, keeping her eyes out the window. “It’s all just an act. It’s fake. But I do think we should talk about…” She chews her lower lip, making me want to lean in and kiss her. “Well, our expectations, I guess, for how we’ll present ourselves in public tonight. We’re not just pretending for fun, right? We’re basically being told to fix what the media portrayed the other day.”

Her words make the situation sound dire. I don’t like feeling so burdened. I grow quiet as I navigate through the bustling streets, the Holston Hotel coming into view. “What do you think we should do?”

Jessica sighs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re going to put this thing on me? Fine. We need to set up some rules. How should we act at the party? What happens at the house? It’s important that we set boundaries, so neither of us is surprised.”

“Boundaries? Surprised?” I force a chuckle, trying to keep things light. “What exactly are you worried about? Are we going to set a ‘no touching’ rule?”

She shoots me a look, and I can tell she’s frustrated. Something is bothering her, and I wish I knew what it was. “You know what I mean, Eric. How intimate will we be now that we’re fake dating? What happens if we get caught up in the moment again?”

The way she says that last part sounds like she is regretting her decision to have sex with me. I feel my ego rear its head, the temptation to pull away strong and fierce. But this is Jessica and, like it or not, I have a soft spot for her in my heart already. That scares me and excites me.

“Well, I can tell you one thing that I’m pretty sure is going to be expected tonight,” I say, reaching for her thigh and stroking it gently. I enjoy the slight shiver that rushes through her.

“What’s that?” Her voice is breathless.

“You’ll need to look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours, as if you adore me.” I grin at her. “Think you can ‘fake’ that? The rest we’ll worry about later.”

She smiles, placing her hand on mine, and I relax. “But you promise we’ll talk about boundaries?”

Before I can respond, we pull up to the Holston Hotel, and I’m struck by the grandeur of the place. Small crowds of people millabout, their laughter and chatter heard above the soft notes of jolly holiday music that drifts through the air. They have decked the hotel out in extravagant decorations—golden ribbons, sparkling lights, and a massive Christmas tree dominating the lobby.

“Wow,” I breathe, taking it all in as I park. “This place is something else.”

Jessica smiles softly, her earlier tension momentarily forgotten. “It really is beautiful.”

As we step out into the cold evening air, I can feel the energy of the crowd enveloping us. Fans shout my name, eager for a glimpse of the players they admire. I instinctively reach for Jessica’s hand, intertwining our fingers. The moment feels right, but the weight of our arrangement still lingers like a shadow.

Once we’re just outside the building, the atmosphere shifts to an elegant buzz. People in sharp suits and stunning dresses mingle, laughter ringing out as they catch up with friends and colleagues on their way into the venue. I can see the media waiting behind their cameras, waiting to capture the hockey players and VIP arrivals.

“Let’s pose for a few photos,” I suggest, leading Jessica to the front of the hotel in the opulent lobby where a backdrop of shimmering lights awaits us.

She hesitates for a moment, as if bracing herself, but then nods. As we stand together, I wrap my arm around her waist, pullingher close. The flash of cameras lights up the scene, capturing the moment we’ve crafted.

“Eric! Gator! Over here!” a voice calls from the crowd. I turn to see fans waving, eager for my attention. I step forward, signing autographs while keeping an eye on Jessica, who stands beside me, beaming. Whether her smiles are real or fake is anyone’s guess, but if she’s just playacting, she deserves an Oscar.

The fans’ excitement is contagious, and for a moment, the untrue parts of our arranged relationship fades. We’re a team, and the chemistry between us feels undeniable, even as the media swarms around us, eager to catch every detail of this “new couple.”

“Jessica!” a reporter shouts, microphone in hand. “How do you feel about being with Eric Warren, the new star of the Avalanche?”

Before she can answer, I feel a rush of warmth at the thought of being called a star. But I quickly remind myself that I’m not a star in my own eyes; I’m still rebuilding my reputation.

“We’re just enjoying the season together,” Jessica replies, her voice steady despite the pressure of the moment.

“Just friends?” the reporter probes, and I catch the flicker of uncertainty in Jessica’s eyes.

I lean closer, putting on the charm. I grin down at Jessica. “We’re more than friends,” I say, hoping my words convey asense of genuine connection. “We’re here to have a great time and come together as a team, which is what the holiday season is all about. Isn’t that right, Jess?”

She nods, her smile brightening as we pose for another round of photos. I feel proud to have her on my arm. Proud to, at least for tonight, call her mine. My hand fits perfectly around her waist and she leans into me for every photo as if we really are together.

“Ready to head inside?” I ask once I see that the frenzy has moved on to other late arrivals of the night.

“More than ready!” she whispers with a relieved look.

“Let’s try to enjoy ourselves. The media isn’t allowed into the ballroom, so it’ll be just us,” I say, trying to push the weight of our “playacting” as a couple aside for now.

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