Page 125 of The Fake Date Agreement

“It was important,” he says. “For the kids. To you. And to me. I didn’t realize how important until I told myself it didn’t matter. These kids deserve to have people cheer them to victory. I wanted it to be me. ”

“That’s sweet,” I can’t help but smile.

“Shh,” he whispers, giving his teammates a furtive glance. “Someone might hear you.”

I grin at him.

When I feel something brush against the back of my hand, I look down and then up again, meeting Caleb’s unreadable gaze.

Slowly, I twist my wrist so I have my palm facing up, and I release a quiet sigh when Caleb takes my hand in his larger one and gently squeezes it.

One simple action feels like he’s brushed up against my heart. Softening it.

There is no reason in the world for him to want to hold my hand. Not where no one else can see it. Our relationship is fake.

Or, it’s supposed to be

He gives me a probing look and his grip loosens, as if he reads the confusion clouding my mind. “You want me to?—”

“No,” I quietly interrupt him, squeezing his hand, struggling to identify the reason I don’t want him to let me go. “Don’t.”

His expression softens. “Then I won’t.”

The referee blows his whistle to commence the start of the second period, and all our attention swings back to the game.

We spend the next thirty minutes cheering the Hurricanes to victory, and after the game, the kids beeline to the players.

I hang back, watching as the coach who screamed at Reid when he kissed me for the kiss cam claps Caleb on the back.“Good to see you focusing on the joy of the game, Boucher. You’re setting a good example for the team about what’s important.”

“Yeah, well, I had someone else to thank for that,” Caleb says, looking at me.

The coach’s gaze is inscrutable as he glances at me. “Keep it up.”

“Tobie?”

I turn to face Trey, the kids’ coach. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say thank you.” He couldn’t look any happier if he’d tried. “You’ve given these kids a core memory.”

I blush, shaking my head. “I’m not sure about that. I mean, I didn’t really do anything.”

He points his chin at the rolled-up sign in my hand. “You came, you threw your support behind them, and you gave the kids a reason to smile. Also, they love your slogan.”

Now I’m the one beaming. “They do?”

“Whipping up a storm of victory? How could they not?”

“Coach?” Caleb calls out as he walks over to join us.

“Yes?”

“I was speaking to my coach,” Caleb says. “I don’t know if you heard, but we have a big game coming up.”

“I heard,” the coach says with a smile. “You’re about to do something historic. Everyone in town is excited about it.”

Caleb shrugs like it’s nothing, but itissomething—a massive deal. “Well, we can set aside ten or more tickets if you and the victors over there want to come watch us play. We can sort out some jerseys as well for them.”

I laugh when the coach nearly knocks Caleb over with his hug. “Yes! The kids would love that.”

---