Page 37 of Faking It For Real

"Ah, yes. The photographer," Vanessa said, a slow recognition dawning in her eyes. "How... unexpected. Especially given your rather memorable first meeting."

"Things change," I replied with a pleasant smile that I hoped concealed my discomfort.

"Clearly," she said, her gaze traveling between us. "And quite quickly too. It's only been what? Two weeks since Halloween?"

"We've been spending a lot of time together for the newspaper feature," Ethan explained, his voice sounding oddly strained. "Mia's been photographing the team."

"How convenient," Vanessa said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "And here I thought you were avoiding relationships to 'focus on hockey.'" The air quotes were audible in her tone.

I felt Ethan flounder beside me, clearly uncomfortable with her direct reference to their breakup. Time to take control of the narrative.

"Ethan's knowledge has been invaluable for my sports photography," I said smoothly. "When you understand the game better, you can anticipate the key moments. We started with professional sessions, but..." I glanced up at him with what I hoped was a convincing look of affection. "Sometimes you find connections where you least expect them."

"Funny," Vanessa replied, examining her perfectly manicured nails. "Just a few weeks ago, he was telling everyone how irresponsible you were for stepping onto the ice during practice. Something about almost ending his career?"

"We worked through that," Ethan said, finding his voice again. "Mia's been really supportive of my schedule, my goals. She gets it."

Vanessa's eyebrows rose slightly. "Does she?" Her gaze returned to me, cold and calculating. "So you're what? His personal photographer now? Following him around capturing his journey to the NHL?"

The condescension in her voice sparked a genuine flare of irritation. Before I could formulate a sufficiently diplomatic response, Ethan did something completely unexpected.

He kissed me.

Not the quick, perfunctory peck from earlier, but a real kiss—gentle yet firm, his hand coming up to cup my cheek, his body angling toward mine. I froze momentarily in surprise, then found myself responding, my hand instinctively moving to his shoulder, steadying myself against the sudden dizziness that swept through me.

The world narrowed to the sensation of his lips on mine, the warmth of his hand against my face, the subtle scent of his cologne. For a disorienting moment, I forgot about Vanessa, about our arrangement, about everything except the unexpected softness of the kiss and the way my heart hammered against my ribs.

When he pulled back, his eyes were wide with something like surprise—as if he'd shocked himself as much as me. We stared at each other for a suspended moment, both slightly breathless, both careful not to acknowledge what had just happened.

"Well," Vanessa said, her voice breaking the spell, "I guess that answers my question."

I turned, having almost forgotten she was there, to find her looking distinctly deflated.

"I should go find my friends," she continued, already backing away. "Enjoy the festival."

As she disappeared into the crowd, Ethan and I remained frozen, neither quite meeting the other's eyes.

"Sorry about that," he finally said, voice slightly rough. "I panicked."

"It's fine," I assured him quickly. "It worked, right? She seemed convinced."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Very convinced."

We lapsed into silence, both pretending to be intensely interested in the people passing by. The ease we'd developed throughout the afternoon had vanished, replaced by a new awareness that felt dangerous.

"Should we get something to eat?" Ethan finally suggested, clearly grasping for normalcy.

"Good idea," I agreed. "I saw a booth selling loaded baked potatoes back that way."

We resumed our tour of the festival, maintaining our couple façade but with a new undercurrent of tension. The easy conversation from earlier was replaced by more careful exchanges, both of us skirting around the kiss that had been far more affecting than either of us had anticipated.

As evening fell and lights illuminated the quad, we'd recovered enough of our composure to enjoy the live music performing on the small stage area. Standing among the crowd, Ethan's arm around my shoulders against the growing chill, I found myself wondering how much of this was still pretense and how much was becoming genuinely enjoyable.

By the time we decided to leave, the temperature had dropped significantly. Ethan insisted on walking me home, and I was too cold to argue. We walked in companionable silence through the darkened campus, streetlights casting golden pools on the path ahead.

"That wasn't so bad," Ethan said as we approached my apartment building. "As first fake dates go."

"High praise," I smiled. "Though I think we need to work on our backstory a bit more. Vanessa clearly wasn't buying it initially."

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