Page 34 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

Ryan exaggeratedly steps in closer, only he loses his balance on his injured knee, and grabbing me, we both stagger off to the right, nearly falling head over tail. We’re now both in complete hysterics, much to the amusement of everyone else and the beady, disapproving eye of Madame what’s-her-face.

“Again, my dears! But this time, commit.Feel the romance, don’t just act it!”

We hurriedly straighten up, feeling reprimanded like naughty school kids. I’ve got my arms draped over his shoulders, and now, we’re a foot apart.

“Now what?” I say.

“Beats me.” Ryan shrugs, eyeing the other couples who are taking this far more seriously.

Next, Madame Amour moves us on to “affectionate gestures,” which turns out to be a mix of endearingly corny prompts. Ryan reaches out and awkwardly brushes a stray hair from my face, his fingers grazing my cheek, which tickles and has me scratching more than sighing. I try to keep a straight face, I really do, but this is just painful. Biting my lip doesn’t help, and a second later, I’m giggling uncontrollably.

“She’s going to have a breakdown if you keep laughing like this,” Ryan murmurs, struggling not to laugh with me.

“Well, we’re not the only ones struggling,” I whisper back, nodding over at the Canadian couple next to us, who’ve managed to tangle themselves up in an overly ambitious attempt at hand-holding.

Madame Amour sighs dramatically, bringing her fingers to her temples.

“Why, oh, why is there such resistance to vulnerability?” she laments, shaking her head in mock despair.

She really needs to be on stage.

Looking at us with a desperate plea, she says. “A kiss, perhaps? A soft, gentle kiss to seal your devotion?”

My eyes widen at the suggestion, and Ryan clocks my expression. I’m half-expecting him to suggest a loophole or bail on the exercise altogether, but to my surprise, he just looks at me, his expression sincere. It’s then that I can feel my cheeks reddening.

“Alright,” he murmurs, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear.

And just like that, he leans in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so unexpectedly gentle that my heart stutters. I expected him to make it a joke, to exaggerate or to mess it up somehow, but instead, he kisses me softly, his hands settling at my waist with surprising ease.

The kiss was quick, barely a few seconds, but I can’t help feeling like it held so much more than the silly demands of Madame Amour’s exercise. When we pull apart, my heart is beating a little faster, and Ryan drops his eyes, clearly unable to hold my gaze.

Madame Amour sighs behind us. “Yes, yes, that was what I was waiting for,” she purrs approvingly, clapping her hands. “You are a true darling duo,after all.”

The remaining activities only increase in absurdity, and I’m now beyond embarrassment. I can’t speak for Ryan. I’m noteven sure he’s found any of this stuff that hard, but then, he is a performer, right?

We carry on, practicing everything from holding hands while reciting love poems to synchronized walking in a “symbolic display of harmony.” Of course, we botch nearly all of it, but if anything, I’m having more fun than I imagined this weekend would bring.

The more ridiculous the exercise, the easier things seem to be between us. I was a nervous wreck yesterday morning, but I’ll admit, I’m actually having fun. Besides, these performances are going to help when we have to do all this fluff in the real world.

“Darlings! This is it. The last task. The final frontier of romance!” Madame Amour declares as the sun lowers in the sky. “Now, we will solidify the bonds you have rebuilt,” she waffles on, clasping her hands to her heart. “For your last task, you write your Love Vows!”

If nothing else, my eyebrows have had more of a workout this weekend than ever before, and once more, they’re lifting high on my forehead as I glance at Ryan.

“It’s a practice of affirmations, my dears,” Madame Amour explains, gesturing with a dramatic flourish. “You will compose a short declaration, something that speaks to your partner from the heart. Let the words flow freely; allow your souls to speak!”

I swear I don’t mean to, but a groan leaves my throat, causing Madame Amour to throw me a swift scowl.

As usual, Ryan is just grinning. Whether he’s laughing at me or with me, I can’t fathom.

And then he shrugs. “I guess it’s her last-ditch attempt at making hopeless romantics out of us. But hey, we’ve come this far. Why stop now?”

With a pad and pen in hand, I park my tush on a bench nearby and wonder what the heck I’m supposed to write. I mean, I hardly know this guy.

That’s not totally true. You’ve gotten to know him over the last two weeks. And even more so these last two days.

Okay, sure, but not enough to write love vows, for Pete’s sake. But when I glance over at Ryan, I’m shocked to see him in full flow with surprising focus. His pen is going like he’s writing a novel.

After a few false starts, I finally write down my vow, still thinking this whole thing is crazy. I mean, sure, I really want a hydro pool, but there has to be an easier way to get it than this.

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