Page 43 of Test the Ice
Zoe pops up onto the counter, her legs dangling below. She takes the juice from me and gulps it too, as if the three of us are passing around a bottle of liquor. “So now what?” she asks. “Should I start planning a wedding?”
Reese scowls at her. “You’re not funny.”
She laughs. “Yes, I am.”
“I’m going to have to make up an excuse,” Reese mutters, talking more to herself than us. She’s going over a list of excuses, all ranging from calling the wedding off to telling Benedict that I suddenly died.
I press my palms onto the counter and think things through as she aggressively chews on her lip.
“That’s ridiculous,” Zoe says. “You can’t say he died…”
“Do you have a better idea?!” Reese exclaims. “If he knows I lied, he’ll use that against me too! Knowing him, he probably has an entire filing cabinet with information about me. Our past. God, what if he has a private investigator following me?”
She’s pacing now. Her tone squeakier as the minutes pass.
“I have a better idea.”
Reese stops dead center in her tiny kitchen and eyes me.
Zoe stops swinging her legs. “Alright, let’s hear it.”
I stand up tall and cross my arms. My heart beats a mile a minute, and I can’t tell if it’s from excitement or dread. “We stay engaged. We fool him and everyone else. Either he’ll give up on getting you back, or he’ll follow through and take you to court, where we’ll prove to the judge that every delusion he’s created to tear you down turns out to be just that: a delusion. It’ll make him look like a desperate man who can’t take no for an answer.”
Silence cuts through the apartment.
Reese opens her mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.
Eventually, enough time has passed that Zoe jumps off the counter. She walks over to me and pats me on the chest with a cunning smile on her face. “Welcome to the family.”
Sixteen
REESE
I nervously tapmy fingernails against my steering wheel outside of the Devils’ arena as I wait for Malaki. I pinch my leg again, just in case the first few times I did it were a fluke, but unfortunately, the tiny bite of pain is still there, which means this isnota dream.
If we go through with this–wait,no. We arenotgoing through with this.
I am not engaged to Malaki Young.
Through the windshield, I watch the bus until it comes to a halt in front of the arena. A group of Blue Devils players exit the arena and head for it with their suitcases. They have an away game and soon will be on an airplane out of the state.
Which is good, considering I’m about to tell Malaki that even though he was awfully convincing last night, I still haven’t changed my mind. We can’t fake an engagement.
My breath catches as soon as I see him.
At least I had enough sense to pick a good-looking fake fiancé, even if it is the shortest engagement in the world. His formal attire isn’t overdone by any means–blue dress pants, awhite button-down with a few buttons popped, and a matching suit jacket. One single strand of his perfectly messy hair hangs over his forehead, and I’m thankful he’s wearing sunglasses. That way, I don’t have to look into his dreamy blue eyes.
Suddenly, he's standing in front of the passenger window. He grins and mouths, “Unlock the door.”
Oh, right.
I quickly unlock it, and he slides into the passenger seat. His cologne swarms my senses, and I have to pinch my leg again to pull myself together. He adjusts the seat so he’s able to fit better before brushing his hand down his dress pants, smoothing them out.
God, he’s hot.
It’s a contradiction.
He’sa contradiction.
