Page 75 of Faking It For Real

"No problem," he smiled.

We walked the rest of the way in charged silence.

The main cabin's common room had been transformed for the evening's festivities, with furniture pushed back to create a large open space, bottles and snacks arranged on a central table, and a fire roaring in the hearth. Someone had connected their phone to a portable speaker, filling the room with music just loud enough to create atmosphere without preventing conversation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dylan announced as we entered, "let the Annual Hockey Team Ski Weekend Games begin!"

What followed was the most ridiculous two hours of my life. The team had apparently developed a tradition of increasingly absurd party games, starting with a relatively tame charades competition and devolving from there. Teams were drawn randomly, putting me and Ethan together by sheer luck—or possibly Dylan's interference, given his smug expression when he pulled our names from a hat.

To my surprise, we were a formidable team. Despite our short history, we seemed to have developed an uncanny ability to read each other's cues. When I drew the impossible task of acting out "quantum physics" without speaking, Ethan guessed it in under thirty seconds, leaving the rest of the room staring in disbelief.

"How did you possibly get that?" Sanchez demanded.

Ethan smiled. "She tapped her watch and then did that thing with her hands that she does when she's explaining something complicated. It was obvious."

I stared at him, stunned that he'd noticed such a specific mannerism. "I do a thing with my hands?"

"Yeah, this little circular motion," he demonstrated. "You did it when you were explaining aperture settings to me last week."

The fact that he'd not only noticed but remembered such a detail made something warm unfurl in my chest.

As the night progressed and the drinks flowed, the games became sillier and the laughter louder. I found myself genuinely enjoying these people I'd once dismissed as just "hockey bros"—seeing their loyalty to each other, the way they included significant others and friends without making us feel like outsiders.

Then Tyler suggested Truth or Dare, and the energy in the room shifted to something more charged.

"Classic," Dylan approved, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "But let's set some ground rules. Nothing that would get us kicked out of the resort, nothing Coach would bench someone for, and everyone has one pass if a question or dare gets too personal. Agreed?"

Everyone nodded, arranging themselves in a rough circle on the floor and couches. I found myself wedged between Ethan and Olivia on a love seat, acutely aware of Ethan's thigh pressed against mine.

The game started tamely enough—embarrassing confessions about first kisses, silly dares involving food combinations or dances. But as it progressed, the questions became more personal, the dares more intimate.

When the spin landed on Ethan, Tyler's grin turned wicked. "Truth or dare, Captain?"

"Truth," Ethan chose, clearly the safer option given Tyler's expression.

"Boring," Tyler complained. "Fine. When did you first realize you had feelings for Mia?"

The room went quiet, all eyes turning to Ethan. I felt myself tense, suddenly very interested in his answer.

Ethan took a sip of his drink, his eyes meeting mine briefly before addressing the room. "It wasn't one moment," he said carefully. "It was a series of small things. The way she completely destroyed me verbally that first day on the ice." This earned chuckles from the team. "How seriously she takes her photography. The fact that she calls me on my BS instead of letting me get away with it."

He paused, and the sincerity in his voice made my heart race.

"But if I had to pick one moment," he continued, "it was probably when I saw her at that first game against State. She was so focused on getting the perfect shot, she didn't even notice when everyone else jumped up cheering. She was just doing her thing, completely in her element. It was... compelling."

The room remained silent for a beat too long, everyone seemingly aware that they'd witnessed something more genuine than expected from a party game. I couldn't look at Ethan, afraid of what my expression might reveal.

"Damn, Captain," Reyes broke the silence, "that was deep. I was expecting something like 'when she wore that blue dress to the formal.'"

The tension dissolved into laughter, and the game moved on. But I remained hyper-aware of Ethan beside me, wondering how much of his answer had been performance and how much had been real.

A few rounds later, the bottle landed on him again. This time, perhaps to avoid another personal truth, he chose dare.

Dylan's eyes lit up with mischief. "I dare you to demonstrate your most romantic move."

The team whooped as Ethan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Dylan confirmed. "Show us what makes the ladies swoon, Captain."

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