Fake Dating Alpha Hockey Captain

The backlit mirrors in Mier'Chelie's don’t flatter me at all. I look like a rat! Weeks of planning, and my cardigan sleeves seem a bit long. The headband I put on is doing nothing to tame my wavy hair. Are Chuck Taylor knockoffs okay for here? Still…maybe Oliver will notice the effort. Speaking of which, has he seen my text messages? It’s already 9:43. If we eat and leave on time, we can get to the New Year’s firework show… “Lookin 4ward to u gettin here”—30 minutes ago, unread. I scrunch my eyes tightly. I worked hard to learn how eyeliner works, so I don’t want to mess it up, but… “Keep it cool, Cynthia… Just…two more minutes.” I already have a text reminder alarm set. There’s no need to bombard him. It’s okay. Just two more minutes. When I start opening the bathroom door— “Don’t go!!” —I almost smack myself in the face with it. Who’d scream like that here of all places? I got my answer when I peeked out the door. Jessica Parthow. She looks absolutely stunning in her deep blue dress. The dance team really does wonders for her legs. The guy she’s holding onto doesn’t seem to notice or care. Alex Hewlett: hockey team captain, satisfactory student, and notoriously unserious playboy. My Oliver waxes poetic about him constantly. Their current season is a huge success so far because of him. I…don’t really care about Alex. Sure, he looks like a fashion catalog photo made real: light slacks, tucked-in black dress shirt, clean sneakers. But from what I know, he isn’t one for commitment. A fling-only person, never dated anyone that I know of. Though Jessica’s, uh, not gotten the picture. I heard she texted someone, demanding they “stop trying to f**k my boyfriend.” From his phone no less. Those two are still fussing so…I’ll just wait in here for now— My heart jumps into my throat when my phone starts blaring. Ah. 9:45. Panic rushes through me as I try to turn it off, but I can’t get a handle on it before the bathroom door gets shoved open. I stumble back and look up. It’s Jessica, Immaculate, and furious. Her five-foot-seven seems mountainous to my five-foot-fourteen. Meeting her gaze is…too much. I try to slip past her, but her hand ensnares my shoulder. “Who the hell are you?” Jessica hisses, her nails digging in as I wince. “You were listening to us just now, weren’t you? Took a video to laugh with your b***h friends?” “Uh—” Before I answer, a large hand grabs my other shoulder and pulls me away. I freeze up, getting smushed against someone’s pecs. “Hey babe,” a saccharine voice says. “What took you so long?” …Oliver doesn’t call me ‘babe’. This body is too big, too. When I look up, Alex’s warm brown eyes meet mine. He winks before looking back toward Jessica. “…What’s that look for? You know I’m not one to date. I just wanted to have fun, but… It’s not anymore. See you.” Then, I’m being ushered away. My ears are too full of cotton to fully understand what Alex is saying to me. Were his hands always this big? This strong? He’s like a vice. I only realize how far we’ve gone when a gust of wind blows against my face… When did we get down the street? “...Okay, she’s leaving. Thank f**k—” I squirm out of his arms immediately, nearly braining myself on the snow-dusted ground. When I shoot him a look I hope is intimidating, he just raises his hands like he’s confronting a scared deer. “Hey, yeah, sorry about that. Jess was jumping down my throat.” I feel his eyes trail up and down my body. “You were a great help, though. Can I have your number? I’ll make this up to you.” It takes me a moment to process what he said, then irritation bubbles in my chest. Didn’t he just diss Jessica using me? “...No need.” I stumble past him, heading back to the restaurant. Whatever, I’m going back anyway. I just want to wait for Oliver. However, his sneakers catch up beside me. “I mean it, I’m really sorry about that! For real… Are you even waiting for someone?” He lets out a snort. “It’s almost 10. No qualified boyfriend would be late on a day like this.” I stop in my tracks and turn on him. With some effort, I forcefully unclench my jaw. “Someone who uses random girls on a whim should keep their mouth shut. He’s a thousand times better than you.” Alex’s eyebrows rise up as he gives me another once-over. “...You’re spicier than you look.” He starts smirking, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Redmond High, right? Do I know your perfect Prince Charming?” “Oliver is—” Ah. My six-month anniversary is today, but almost no one knows. Oliver doesn’t like school gossip, and I’m happy as long as he is. But… I cut myself off, glancing up at Alex, hoping he doesn’t know the name. But of course he does, thick black eyebrows raised in surprise. His grin turns playful, so I try making my expression as steely as possible “Oliver Oakley? Yeah…great asset to the team. A real fun guy.” He gasps, and I jolt slightly. “Speaking of fun, Gunther’s throwin' a party while his folks are out. Go drop by. You might see something fun.” …The winter air firmly reminds me I’m just in a cardigan. I wrap my arms around myself and decide to flee instead of wrapping my mind around his suggestion. Alex calls after me. “Remember! 8293 Harvey Way!” I don’t answer him. There’s no need to. — — — I text Oliver at 9:52. Then 10:10. 10:35. 10:55. By 11 PM, I’m standing in the snow outside the now closed restaurant, my half-eaten breadsticks in a to-go box under my arm. My stomach grumbles with hunger. Did…Oliver just stand me up? No, he couldn’t have. Maybe he was just occupied. Like, anything could’ve happened. His phone battery could’ve died or he could’ve gotten into a car accident and couldn’t reply. Or maybe… No. If Oliver was going to a party, he would tell me. I don’t need to act out-of-control like Jessica. Given, Oliver and I actually are dating, but still. …Well. It’s not like I can’t drop by. I don’t know Gunther super well, but maybe he knows where Oliver is. Checking is fine…right? I’ll just see if he’s there, that’s all. Upon arrival, I immediately pick out his car among the others. The lights inside and the music are…a lot. There’s so many people, I’m getting squished just by stepping inside. It kinda burns, somehow. As I stumble onto the tile, I find Gunther there, a lanky brunette slumped in a chair with an off-brand booze bottle limp in his hand. “Hey…” Gunther blinks at me slowly like I’m a mirage. Maybe I look like one. My hair’s all over the place now. I try to drag words from the drying concrete in my brain. “Uhm…ah… Oliver. Do you, uhm… Know… Where he is?” He squints at me. “Whut?” The music’s too loud. So I try speaking up, but he doesn’t hear me. I try again, and no dice. “I said! Do you know where Oliver is?!” My throat feels raw as I scream. There’s sweat rolling down my back. “Ohh. Damn, you didn’t have to yell,” Gunther huffs. “He’s snoozing upstairs.” Relief floods me immediately. Where’s the stairs? Just find the stairs. The bedroom’s upstairs. When I catch a glimpse of the first step, I crawl my way through the crowd. I just want them off of me. Getting up to the second floor… It’s quieter, I think. I can’t hear past the buzzing downstairs, the ringing in my ears, and my own panting. But I know he’s here. I can feel him, my guiding light. Oliver’s here. I know he’s behind the first door I find. Surely he’s resting. I’ll ask him why he didn’t answer my texts later. I just…want to see him. Know that he’s safe. Just to calm down before I head home. The voices downstairs are counting. I open the door quietly, not wanting to wake him. But he’s already up. The voices are cheering. Oliver’s indeed in bed. He’s laying under the covers, kissing a girl with naked shoulders.