Page 22 of Bleacher Report
I just grin wider. The crowd awws appreciatively, eating up the romance of it all. Trey gives me a knowing look from the side of the stage while Aleksi whistles suggestively.
Only Bethany's cold stare reminds me that this is just the beginning. But with Peyton in my arms, soft and warm and already arguing about something under her breath, I can't bring myself to care.
Besides, how hard can fake dating be?
Chapter Five
Peyton
My voice echoes back through the headphones as I record the closing credits to a podcast interview I did a couple of days ago, trying to sound confident, casual—like someone who definitely hasn’t just fake-bid on an NHL defenseman.
“…and don’t forget to hit subscribe if you liked this episode and want to stay up to date on our new series starting next week: a deep dive into the rise of undrafted players making waves in professional sports…”
I stop the recording, click pause on my editing software, and let out a breath. My townhouse is blissfully quiet except for the hum of my recording equipment and the occasional creak of my chair—a reminder that I need to oil it or buy a new one that doesn’t make noise during interviews. Although sometimesI think those little sounds bring character and authenticity to a podcast…as if there’s a real person on the other side. In this room—the room I dumped my savings into soundproofing—I can almost pretend last night didn’t happen.
Almost.
I lean back in my chair, tapping my pen against the armrest, already starting to consider my interview with a University of Washington gymnastics superstar who competed in the Olympics and brought back a team medal for Team USA two years ago. And then my mind shifts to where I’ve been avoiding—my three interviews with Hunter Reed.
If I can just keep my head down and focus on the work, maybe the whole ridiculous auction scene will fade into the background, and everyone will forget that Seattle’s entire social media feed is currently obsessed with me kissing the Hawkeyes' new left defenseman.
Maybe.
My phone buzzes on the desk, but I ignore it. Probably another group chat meme or a spam text from the podcast hosting platform.
Another buzz. Then another.
I glance over, heart sinking when I see the name flashing on the screen: Abby.
As in Abby Collins—my noisy, overbearing, and incredibly supportive sister-in-law.
In fact, she’s more like a real sister than just my brother’s wife. It’s almost as if she’s been around for my entire twenty-six years of existence.
Then, a text message when I just barely miss her call.
Abby:Answer your damn phone. Why is my group chat blowing up with you and Hunter Reed?!
Before I can even process that, the phone starts ringing again.
I swipe to answer. “Hey—”
“Peyton Elise Collins.” Abby’s voice slices through the line, all older-sister authority and no chill. “Why am I waking up to my entire group chat losing their minds over photos of you kissing Hunter freaking Reed at a charity auction?”
I blink at my computer screen like she’s speaking a different language. “Good morning to you too.”
“I don’t care about morning. I care about why my coworkers, my friends, and even Jesse’s Little League parent group chat are blowing up with GIFs of my sister-in-law locking lips with Seattle’s most infamous playboy.”
I try to play it off. “No one even uses social media anymore. It’ll die out over the weekend.”
“Fat chance. You didn’t think to maybe, I don’t know, warn me before it hit the internet last night? The minute I walked into the ER, I had three nurses and a doctor grilling me about how long you’ve been dating an NHL player and why they were the last to know. Jesse came home asking about it.”
My stomach sinks. “Wait—Jesse heard about it?”
“Of course he did. He’s got it saved as his tablet background.”
I groan and drop my head onto my desk. “This is not how this was supposed to go. We’re faking it… It’s not real.”
Abby softens, but only a little. “Okay, spill. What’s going on? Because that kiss did not look fake.”
