Fake Dates & Ice Skates: Chapter 11

Now, I’m standing at the kitchen island, with Kennedy sat on the other side, eating dry Cheerio’s like that girl from “So, what’s it like to be fake dating Wren?” Kennedy asks loudly, trying to get Wren’s attention wherever she is. “Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”

“Everything and more,” I drawl.

‘Come on,’ Ken presses, rolling her eyes. ‘She’s not here. What do you really think about her?’

I raise my eyebrow. ‘What do you mean? She’s great.’

‘Of course she’s great. I know that. I wouldn’t be best friends with her if I didn’t know that.’

I can’t lie. Kennedy scares me sometimes. I can’t tell what she’s trying to get out of me so I decide to tell her the truth.

‘She’s fun to hang out with even though I feel like she hates me most of the time. She’s a lot cooler than me if I’m being completely honest,’ I admit the second she materialises in the kitchen. Kennedy nods thoughtfully, adding more Cheerios into her mouth. Wren’s changed out of her leotard into light washed jeans and a dark green cable knit sweater. Her hair is tied back in a claw clip, two short blonde strands falling in her face. “You look nice.”

She looks at me, walking closer as if she’s only just seen me. “Thanks. You clean up nice yourself.” She beams at me before slipping behind me towards the fridge.

“I don’t get why you can tell two people about our arrangement, but I can only tell one. Plus, Kennedy and Scarlett ask me a million questions all the time, so they amount to, like, twenty people,” I say, turning to face her again. I lean against the countertop, my arms folded across my chest.

“Fine, go and tell Evan. Be my guest,” she responds, her head still stuck in the fridge. Within seconds, Scarlett is up from the couch, stood in my face, pointing at me. I look over at Wren for help but she’s still searching around the fridge, the door blocking her from view.

“Don’t you dare tell that little weasel anything!” Scarlett exclaims, jabbing her finger into my chest. I raise my hands in surrender, but she doesn’t move. Finally, Wren comes to my rescue.

“Scarlett, calm down,” she says to her friend who backs away slowly, glaring at me. Wren gulps the purple-pink smoothie in her hand before looking at me. “You ready to go?”

I nod enthusiastically and we leave to get in my truck. I scrubbed my truck clean before driving here. We’ve been taking her precious Honda Civic to the gym most mornings, but I knew I had to do a deep clean before she could ever see my car. I worked at Nero’s and saved up for four summers to get my truck; thinking I would use it all the time only to end up moving five minutes away from campus.

We pull up outside of Sophia’s miniature mansion and the music is already surrounding us. The lawn is littered with the smokers, talking loudly over clouds of smoke. Cars line up the driveway and onto the block and I turn over to see Wren scanning the surroundings. She hesitates to open the door. I put my hand reassuringly on her knee and she turns to me, her breathing suddenly heavy.

“If you want to leave at any time, just say the word, and we’ll go,” I whisper, and she waits a beat before nodding. The last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable. ‘I’m going to keep you safe tonight.’

We walk up to the house, hand in hand. Well, sort of. She holds onto three of my fingers as if that’s all her hand can take and it’s fucking up my insides. I can feel Wren’s hand squeezing my fingers tightly as we open the door to a party that is in full swing.

Music blasts from speakers in all directions, people stood aimlessly with Solo cups in their hands. Fruity smoke from bongs and vapes infuse my senses and it takes me a second to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. I’ve spent a lot of time over the past few months at parties like these but this one is something different. It’s a million times louder and full that the ones I end up at.

We walk deeper in, trying to find somewhere to get a drink. I’m going to stick to punch today, and Wren was going to stay sober anyway. I need to stay alert in case something happens. I can’t have us slipping up on our first public date.

I take my hand out of hers and slip it around her waist, pulling her into me as we go into the kitchen. There are a few people in here but not enough for it to be crowded. Enough that we need to act like we’re together.

“Are you okay?” I whisper-shout into her ear. She looks up at me and nods, still looking a little skittish. I pull her further into me, kissing her on the forehead as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. She blinks up at me.

My anxieties are relieved when she presses a kiss into my shoulder at the same time that someone taps on my other shoulder. I turn around to a cherry faced Harry. He’s soaked head to toe, most likely just coming out of the pool.

“Hey, Miles,” he says before registering Wren next to me. “You’re Wren, right?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the ‘p’ in the way that makes me shift in my jeans. She blinks up at me as if to silently tell me to say something.

“This is Harry,” I introduce, gesturing towards him and Wren. “He talks a lot of shit so don’t believe everything he says.”

“I don’t talk shit. It’s just what you don’t want to here, Davis,” he retorts, laughing. “If you ever want to know any stories about him, just let me know.”

“I will take you up on that,” Wren smirks. “I’ve learnt a few things about him myself.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Harry asks, throwing me a look. I don’t bother to interject as I watch Wren take the lead. I’m glad she’s making an effort to talk to my friends after putting up such a fight about wanting to come here.

“He’s got an awful singing voice,” she says proudly, her gaze drifting from Harry to me and then back to him. I can’t hide the grin that’s spreading across my face. If taking jabs at me is what makes her comfortable, I’ll let her call me every name under the sun.

“Does he? I didn’t know that,” Harry replies, clearly amused. “You’ve got to sing the national anthem at the next game, Davis.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I laugh.

“Oh, but it should,” Wren beams. “Have you seen how terrible his music taste is? It’s like dating a—”

“

“I didn’t even get to the best part,” she whines before turning back to him. “The other day—”

I put my hand over her mouth on instinct and it almost covers her entire face as I slowly walk her backwards out of the kitchen. I turn back to Harry, and he shrugs happily before walking off. Her eyes widen with alarm before softening and staring into me as we continue sidestepping until we’re in a corridor.

I can feel her breathing quicken beneath my hand as her green-brown eyes gently pinch together as she looks down at my hand on her mouth. I break my hand away when the realisation sets in on me and I shove it into my pocket. Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to search my face for something.

‘What was that?’ she asks after a while.

I tilt my head. ‘What was what?’

‘You. Just then. Doing ‘What is that ting?’

‘You know what it is, Miles.’

‘I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?’ She shakes her head, trying not to smile. I lean into her and whisper, ‘You’re a little brat.’

She snorts. ‘Oh please. What are you gonna do? Punish me?’

‘You would love that, wouldn’t you?’

She ignores me, rolling her eyes. Instead of making a comment like I’m expecting she says, ‘I’m having fun. With you, I mean.’

I’m about to agree with her but my voice trails off as I see Greyson, so obviously drunk, waltzing towards us.

I’m dying to know what Wren meant but she shakes off whatever she was going to say.

‘Miles,’ he slurs. “Is this your girlfriend?”

He gestures his cup towards us, his beer almost tipping over the edge. The change from being around Harry to Grey is so obvious on her face. I remember what she said about being around drunk people and I rub her shoulder and nod at him.

“The one and only,” I say, and he chuckles with a hiccup. Her face turns pink.

“I’m Greyson but you can call me Grey,” he introduces himself.

“Wren,” she says her smile tight.

‘Let me get you some water, dude. You’re already wasted,’ I say, trying to find Grey’s eyes but he’s too busy looking around.

He snorts. ‘Since when were you such a prude?’

Wren stiffens beside me. ‘I’m not drinking tonight and if you don’t want to be benched at the next game, I suggest you get a drink of water.’

‘Fine, I look down at her with adoration, watching her face transform into sunlight as she laughs at my expense. He mumbles something that neither one of us can fully understand. It’s weird being sober around drunk people. I don’t blame Wren that she doesn’t like this feeling very much. She brings her hand across my stomach, nestling into my chest as if we aren’t close enough already. The gesture makes my heart constrict when it shouldn’t. This is just pretend.

“Well, it was nice to finally meet you, Wren,” Grey mumbles when he senses that we want to be left alone. He gives me a messy wink before sauntering off. She bursts out laughing, pulling away from me quickly. Suddenly my whole-body aches for her to be touching me again. Even if it’s only lightly. She stands across from me, leaning against the wall.

“Finally, huh?” she says when her laughter dies down. “Do you talk about me to your friends, Miles?”

I shake my head with a laugh. I inch closer to her. “Yes, I do. All the time.”

“Really?” she asks, almost sarcastically. I nod my head. “And what do you say?”

“All good things,” I say, resting my hands on her hips. She doesn’t move or pull away from me. She slowly releases the tension in her body and dissolves in my hands. This is our first public appearance and I’m already getting lost between what’s real and what’s fake but something about the LED lights is making me hornier than I should. My fingers tug at her jumper, my thumbs barley grazing the skin under her shirt as I lean my face towards her ear. “Let’s go to the pool.”

Her breath catches before I feel her hands cover mine, slowly guiding my hand from out of her shirt.

“Okay,” she rasps in my ear. “You can go in. And I’ll watch. Then, I’ll drive you to the hospital when you get a disease from whatever is in there.”

She tears away from me and starts to walk in the other direction. I drag my hands down my face before catching up with her. When I get to her, I pull her hand into me as we stand, waiting for the people in front of us to move. She leans back into me, her ass melting into me. Too close.

“I was trying to do something cool just then, but I don’t The pool is just as disappointing as Wren made out to be.

Each inch of the rectangular pool is filled with semi-naked bodies, beer cans floating, and beach balls being thrown across it. The water has turned a strange brown colour and I don’t want to find out why. We stand next to a wall close to the glass door, our hands unlinked but our shoulders touching.

It’s a strange kind of intimacy that I didn’t realise I enjoyed so much before tonight. She bumps her arm against mine.

“And you wonder why I don’t like parties,” she says, looking up at me with her green-brown eyes. I lean my head against door, laughing. I really do get it.

“Yeah, it’s not as fun as I remember. But I guess I found them more fun when I “How’s that going? The sobriety.” she draws out, not fully meeting my eyes. She kicks the stones on the path, her hands behind her back.

“Better. I think. I know I’ll never fully be sober, but I have cut down a lot. I remember what happens nowadays and I’m not missing out vital memories,” I admit with a sarcastic flare.

It has been hard getting back on track. I always knew the ‘one drink’ rule would fall through sooner or later. I trust myself enough to have a few beers but never anything stronger. When I’m around her, I want to be able to remember what happens. I don’t want to drown out the feelings because I want her to know me. The real me.

“That’s good,” she says, almost too quietly. We settle into a rhythm of comfortable silence as Her right footsteps between my left one, her back still against the wall. She puts her foot back where it was. I do the same until were in a competitive game of footsie.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, laughing.

‘Trying to win, duh,’ she replies and carries on nudging my foot. ‘This is a lot more fun than the party.’

When we finally realise what we’re doing, we’re laughing and stepping on each other’s shoes on purpose.

Her head shoots up from her feet and something across the pool catches her eye and she stops laughing.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. She looks up at me as if she’s seen a ghost. My heart starts beating rapidly against my chest.

“Fuck. Augustus is here,” she says, turning to me so she’s out of his view. I try and search over her head, but I can’t see him. Then again, there are hundreds of skinny tall white guys here. She stands in-between my open legs.

‘Put your hands on me,” she demands.

“What?” I ask, basically gasping for air. I don’t know why I question it after I was just all over her inside. Still, I freeze and blink at her.

She sighs and grabs my hands to rest on her hips as she snakes hers around my neck. I let her turn us around until her back is against the wall instead of mine. She arches slightly, her front flush against me.

This is not going to end well for me.

Is this supposed “Can you see him?” I ask before swallowing, her face just inches below mine. She looks behind me and nods before directing her face parallel to mine. My breathing turns shallow when her green eyes drift aimlessly around my face, not knowing where to look.

“Just pretend you’re whispering in my ear,” she suggests, pulling at the hair on the nape of my neck, playing the doting girlfriend as she looks at me lovingly. She guides my head until I’m breathing raggedly on her neck. I use one arm to brace myself on the wall, so I don’t crush her with my weight.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask, quietly. She shivers under my breath.

“I don’t know. I don’t care. Just do some-” she pleads but her words turn into a sigh when I kiss her neck lightly.

It’s barely even a kiss. Barley even a touch. My mouth merely skims the soft skin on her neck but when the goosebumps arise across her, I can’t help myself.

I kiss her jaw tenderly, careful not to contact her mouth. The feeling instantly makes me feel light and airy as I breathe her in. She smells like Gucci perfume mixed with sweet lavender soap. Her hands move from my neck to my chest, her small hands fisting my shirt, drawing me in closer so I can taste the sweetness of her.

“Is this, okay?” I ask, biting softly against the space just behind her ear. She doesn’t respond. Only a soft gasp leaves her mouth. So, I press again, “Wren. Is this okay?”

“Mm hmm. Just keep-” she breathes, not forming correct sentences. “Just keep doing that.”

While my mouth explores the side of her neck, my hands go on their own journey. The party around us and the idea of someone watching makes me more ballsy than I should be. Wren guides my hand that has gone limp at my side to her shirt. She slowly lets me slip it under her jumper, my hand hardly splaying across her stomach.

She lets out a low noise of approval when the heat of my hand hits her cold stomach. I don’t ignore the way I can feel her abs tensing beneath my hand. I kiss and nibble lightly on her neck and she whimpers.

Her breathing quickens when I accidentally rock against her, probably feeling how hard I am in these jeans, and she gasps.

She’s going to be the death of me. But at least I’d die a happy man.

“Is he gone?” I speak into her soft skin, needing to give myself some reason to stop.

“What?” she asks, her voice hoarse.

“Is Augustus still there?” I ask again, taking my hand out of her shirt. I pull my head back to see her with her eyes closed, cheeks redder than I have ever seen them, not even watching if he was there or not. It can’t just be me that is feeling the attraction between us. I turn back, and I can’t see him anywhere. “Wren. He’s gone.”

When her eyes open, her pupils are dilated. She searches my face, her chest rising up and down before looking over me.

She looks at me for a long time.

Her eyes explore mine before she drops them to my lips. She hovers her gaze there for a second or two before turning around and walking away.

It takes my brain a while to register that she’s just disappeared in front of me, and I run after her but she’s a lot quicker than I thought. I push through the crowds of people, trying to keep my eyes on the gold claw clip in her hair. I shoot out quick apologies as I almost knock people over as I run past.

I see her sprint towards the bathroom but there’s a small queue. She skips it, earning her a few grunts, and runs into it before the next person can even open the door. I get to the front of the queue, and I stand next to the door.

“Hey, what are you doing?” the guy at the front of the queue garbles. He’s clearly drunk and too far gone but I apologise anyway.

“Sorry. My girlfriend is in there and I need to check on her. Can you wait a few minutes?” I say, trying to open the door handle. He groans and walks away. The rest of the queue slowly follows after they realise that this might take a while.

“Wren!” I shout through the door. “Can you please open the door? I need to see if you’re okay.”

I don’t get a response for a few beats. I lean my head closer to the door, trying to hear better but all I can hear is my heart hammering against my chest.

“Miles,” I hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door. “You’re just going to laugh at me.”

“Wren, are you okay? Why would I laugh at you? Can you open the door? Please,” I plead, trying at the knob again.A few seconds go by as I wait by the door, thinking of a way to get closer to her. Would it be insane if I tried to break down the door?

Finally, I hear a click and I push the door open, slowly.

The bathroom is all marble and the bright lighting is startling compared to the dark neon lights on the other side of the door. The music is almost completely muted this far into the house so I can hear the trickle of the tap and the sharp breaths Wren takes in. She’s stood, her back to me, her arms tight around her middle, looking out the window as if she’s completely immobile.

I walk towards her cautiously.

“Wren. Are you okay?” I ask quietly. I put my hand on her shoulders and they drop with a shaky breath. “What happened?”

She turns around, her eyes filled with tears that haven’t fallen yet. She blinks up at me, tears slowly falling down her face. Instinctively, I swipe my thumb across her cheek, a futile attempts to help ease her pain, resting my hand on her face for a second before dropping it.

“I think… I think I’m having a panic attack,” she says over ragged breaths. Her head drops to her shoes as I place both my hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “This is, like, my third or fourth one this week. My second one today.”

Her hands shake when she brings them to her face, rubbing at her cheeks. How can she still look so beautiful even when she’s crying? I try to bring my hands to her face, but she backs away again, moving her hands frantically. She walks away from me until she’s sat on the toilet seat, shoving her face into her hands. I sit down on the edge of the bathtub, looking at her with sincerity.

“Wren. Talk to me,” I plead, trying to peel her hands away from her face but she doesn’t budge. ‘I’ve got you. Can you take a deep breath?’ I watch as her shoulders rise up, her voice shaky when she exhales. ‘That’s it.’  I breathe in again with her and back out. I lower my voice and whisper, ‘What do you need from me? How can I help?’

She takes a few more breaths in, still covering her face before saying, ‘I don’t know yet. It usually depends on who I’m with that makes it better or worse.’

‘What do you think? Do I make this better or worse.’

‘Better.’ She takes another deep breath. ‘The breathing is helping.’

‘Good. Keep doing that, Wren.’ I continue to breathe with her, doing what she needs to relax.

“What is wrong with me?” she says with a sigh, her voice muffled by her hands. I don’t know if she wants me to answer that or not, so I wait to see if she’ll continue. “I can’t see my ex without panicking. How am I supposed to compete in the championships? How am I supposed to do She lets me take her hands away from her face and I hold them in my hands. She doesn’t look at me, just staring at the way our hands mould together. Her hands are a lot softer and smaller than mine, so I turn them in my hands.

“You have anxiety?” she hiccups. I nod.

She turns over my hand in hers, tracing her fingers across the lines in my palm. It’s a new sensation I’ve never felt before. She runs her slender fingers through each line, focusing on the way my hand opens more to let her do whatever she needs to do to relax. Her delicate fingers against my rough ones send a pang of belonging through me.

“Since Carter, I’ve had this heavy feeling in my chest. I only recently braved it to Google it and I found out it is really common,” I admit for the first time aloud.

“I never would have guessed with how extroverted you are,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. I just nod, not knowing what else to say. “How am I supposed to deal with it?”

“Do you know what triggered it? Was it seeing Augustus? Being here? Being with me?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer. I just want her to be okay. I want all of her pain to go away.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was everything. Seeing him, the party, the people,” she trails off, her eyes darting around the room. “Us.’ She waits a beat before swallowing. ‘Everything is just overwhelming. I thought that this part of the plan would be easy.”

“I can take you home. Is that what you want? Will that make you more comfortable?’

“No. If I go home, they won’t let me live this down. They’ll think I’m not trying hard enough to make this work,” she says.

“I think you are. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It does to me but not to them. They think I’ve been trying to avoid any social interaction since regionals. They already think you make me a better person. Happier. That’s why they’re being so pushy about it,” she explains quietly.

“Do “Yes,” she says through a sigh. She clears her throat. “I mean, my life sucks a little less when you’re around.”

I don’t think I’ve ever had a feeling like this before. Usually, with the few girls I’ve been with, we hook up, talk for a few days and then it’s over. We never get into this stuff. We never get to be vulnerable. But with Wren, it feels so easy. So natural. Even if our other relationship is fake.

“Come on,” I say, standing up. “Let’s get some food.”