Page 33 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

And like Emma is reading my mind, she says, “When was your last relationship? Serious one, I mean.”

“Two years back,” I say. “It started off good, and it was more than skin deep. Only, it took me six months to figure out that she was using me as a stepping stone. She wanted fame, and she used me to get it. That, and my money,” I say tersely.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says, her tone genuine.

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Clearly, it does, if it’s the reason you haven’t been in a serious relationship since.”

I’m about to reply when Madame Amour drifts by, nodding approvingly. “Yes, my darling duo,” she murmurs, smiling. “Love is not in perfection; it is in this—the trying, the foolishness, the togetherness.”

Later, we sit at the bar as a group and talk about the day. But as it gets late, we decide to head back to the suite.

Once inside, I say, “We should get some sleep. Madame Amour will probably have us scaling walls or serenading squirrels tomorrow.”

“I think she’s nuts enough.”

“I see what you did there,” I laugh.

She gives me a cheeky grin and disappears into her room, leaving me standing there for a second, wondering what tomorrow is going to bring. I know one thing. I’ve actually enjoyed today, and it’s only because I’ve been here with Emma.

12

Emma

I wake up thenext morning with a strange mix of dread and reluctant curiosity. Each activity at Madame Amour’s workshop is like peeling back a layer of awkwardness I didn’t even know I had. And today, I have a feeling it’s going to be the pinnacle of Madame Amour’s “Let Go in Love” philosophy.

Ryan isn’t in the suite when I’m eventually ready, so I wander down to the resort’s lounge area, where the other couples are already gathered in various states of bleary-eyed reluctance. Ryan is seated on one of the overstuffed armchairs, looking over the list of activities Madame Amour has posted on the wall. His expression is one of amused horror, and as I take a seat next to him, I catch sight of the item that’s caught his eye.

“Public Displays of Affection Showcase,” I read aloud, my stomach sinking. I shoot him a look of barely concealed panic. “Are we… performing?”

Ryan nods, desperately trying to hold back a laugh. “Apparently, we’re putting on a show.” He pauses, glancing sideways at me. “For everyone.”

“Oh, great,” I mutter, gazing at the other couples, who are reading the schedule with similar expressions of bewilderment. “Exactly what I wanted. A public humiliation course.”

A few minutes later, Madame Amour sweeps into the room, wearing an outfit that’s even more theatrical than usual, though, if I’m honest, I didn’t think that was possible. But the feathered headband and red silk shawl are so over the top that I have to bite my cheek.

Clapping her hands, her bracelets jingling, she gestures for us all to stand, then ushers us into a line.

“Today, my loves, you will share with the world the sparks you’ve found! You will embrace, you will kiss, you will share glances of pure devotion,” she announces, casting a twinkling eye around the room. “Because love, my darlings, is meant to be shared! There is no shame in showing your hearts.”

My stomach suddenly does a somersault.

We’re going to be doing what, now?

Madame Amour leads us out to a grassy clearing just off the beach, announcing that this is the stage for each couple’s performance.

“We start with a simple embrace,” she warbles. “You will gaze into each other’s eyes as though you are the only two souls in the world!”

I’m now looking at Ryan with my eyebrows so high on my head that they’re kissing my hairline. Yesterday was bad enough, but this is nuts. He’s looking at me with the same trepidation, but following everyone else’s lead, we approach each other like we’re teenagers at our first dance.

Ryan places his arms around me, and I stiffen. It’s not just that we hardly know each other, it’s also the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve had a man’s arms anywhere near me.

“Now, gaze into each other’s eyes,” the psycho lady encourages.

I look at Ryan, and he looks at me. For a second, I don’t know what to do, but then I see a smirk forming on his face. I can’t help it; once the giggle bubbles up inside, I cannot stop it, and a minute later, we’re both tittering.

Madame Amour clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “Closer, my darlings! Let the feeling carry you.”

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