Page 98 of Perfectly Faked

“Okay, fine,” I say. “I like your smile! I live for making Ego, the grizzly hockey player, smile. It’s my guilty pleasure. Happy now?” I wheel around and try to storm into the kitchen, but he grabs my arm and retracts me like a yo-yo.

“I didn’t mean the tally marks, though I’m glad you told me.” A corner of his mouth curves, because he unwittingly made me confess a secret.

“Then what did you mean?” I ask.

“This.” He points to the bottom of the paper, where I scribbled the anonymous note to him that I left on the Crushers’ fan site.

I shake my head. “No clue who left that cringey note, but you'd better watch your back—they sound like a stalker.”

“Victoria,” he warns.

“Okay, I confess! I wrote it... in a moment of weakness.”

“A moment of weakness?” he asks, frowning.

I look away from him. “Yes. Now let me pack.”

“So was it a moment of weakness when you kissed me all those times too?” he asks.

“Definitely,” I say, attempting to circle around him, but that’s when I notice the empty takeout containers stacked on the counter, Leo’s clothes strewn about, and a pillow on the couch. It looks like squatters have taken over my apartment.

“Wait... are you sleeping here too?” I ask, turning back to him.

“I haven’t left, except for practices, games, and to check on Tina,” he says.

“Thought you’d had enough of me when we roomed together,” I say lightly.

He doesn’t blink, just holds my gaze. “I could never have enough of you, Victoria. After you left, I realized the only way I could hold on was by reminding myself that every day you were gone was a day closer to seeing you again.”

My mouth opens, but I don’t know what to say. Leo camped out in my apartment, tallied the days I was gone—all in an attempt to keep his hope alive that I would return?

My gaze falls to the black jacket I wore at the commercial shoot lying on his pillow. “I was looking for this.”

He grabs it from the couch. “It’s mine now.”

I frown. “Yours? Pro Ice Gear gave that to me after our photo shoot.” I reach for it, but he snatches it away, dangling it above my head.

“Yeah, but you conveniently took my favorite hoodie and jersey to Seattle. And now you’re wearing it.” His eyes slide down the hoodie,yes, the same one I slept in, and I feel like he’s burning up every inch of my skin with that scorching gaze. “So it’s only fair I get your jacket from the shoot.”

“But it doesn’t fit you,” I say, surging to my toes to snatch the sleeve.

He doesn’t let go, instead he pulls back on the jacket. “I don’t want to wear it.”

“Then what do you want it for?” We’re playing tug-of-war with my clothing, and I can tell by the set of his jaw, he’s not giving up easily.

“I wanted a piece of you,” he finally admits. “Because I missedeverysingle thing about you.”

I drop the jacket and it snaps back toward him, hanging limply in his hands. There’s an awkward silence as his gaze holds mine.

It’s the same reason I stole his hoodie. The smell, the feel of it, every thread makes me feel like I’m with him. It’s my connection to him even when I’m away.

“You left without saying goodbye,” he says, the desperation lining his face. “Then you wouldn’t answer my texts.” He holds the jacket between us. “This was all I had of you.”

I shake my head. “You told me not to make it harder, so that’s what I was doing. I tried to forget about you... and throw myself into skating again.”

Right now, he has no idea how unsteady my heart is. One touch and the bars of the cage I’ve built around myself will tremble so hard they’ll crumble completely. I can’t forget why I came home—it wasn’t to stay. But,dang it, I wish it was.

“And... did you forget about me?” he asks slowly.

---