Page 81 of Faking It For Real

The locker room door swung open, and Dylan's head poked in.

"Dude, what the hell? I've been waiting in the car for twenty minutes. Are you communing with hockey spirits in here or what?"

I looked up, momentarily disoriented. "Sorry. Just thinking."

Dylan stepped fully into the room, taking in my hunched posture and the phone clutched in my hand.

"Your dad called, didn't he?" he asked quietly.

I nodded.

"That bad?"

"The usual."

Dylan sighed and sat down beside me. "Come on. We're going for a drive."

"I've got film to review and—"

"Nope," he interrupted, grabbing my gear bag. "Car. Now. You need air that doesn't smell like hockey sweat and disappointment."

Dylan's beat-up Jeep rumbled across campus, classic rock playing softly from the speakers. We drove in silence for a while, past the academic buildings, through the main quad, and eventually onto the winding road that circled the nearby lake.

Dylan glanced over. "You gonna talk, or just keep staring out the window like it holds the secrets to the universe?"

"Nothing to talk about," I muttered, watching the dark water slide past.

"Really?" He shifted, turning more towards me. "Because you haven't been you since the ski trip. You're quiet. You look like you're carrying the whole rink on your shoulders. Is it your dad? The scouts? Something else?"

I stared out the window at the lake, its surface calm and dark in the evening light. "It's nothing. Just pressure. The usual."

"Yeah, no. Not buying it." Dylan pulled into a scenic overlook and parked, turning to face me. "Something's different this time. And I'm pretty sure her name is Mia."

I sighed, knowing Dylan wouldn't let this go.

"It's complicated," I finally admitted.

"Complicated how? You like her. She likes you. Seems pretty simple to me."

"It started as a deal, Dylan," I reminded him, the frustration bubbling up. "A fake relationship. To keep Vanessa off my back, help her photo stuff. That was it."

Dylan snorted. "Yeah, and how's that working out for you? Because from where I'm sitting, you two stopped 'faking it' somewhere around, oh, I don't know, the Harvest Festival? Maybe earlier?"

I rubbed my temples. "That's the problem. The lines got blurred. Really blurred." I took a breath, forcing myself to say it. "We slept together on the ski trip."

The confession hung in the small space of the Jeep. Dylan didn't look shocked, just nodded slowly, like he'd maybe suspected something along those lines.

"Okay," he said calmly. "So it got real."

"Yeah," I admitted, feeling a strange mix of relief and renewed anxiety now that it was out. "And now I don't know what's what anymore. With the semifinals on the horizon, the championship right behind that, the scouts breathing down my neck, and Dad expecting results... I can't afford distractions right now."

"So Mia's just a distraction?" Dylan challenged.

"No! She's..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. What was Mia to me now? "I don't know what she is. But I know what hockey is. It's my future. It's everything I've worked for. I can't risk that."

Dylan was quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"You know what I think?" he finally said. "I think you're scared."

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