Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“If that’s the case, I’m a very manly bird,” I reply.
“Of course you are.”
“And that species of bird isn’t easy to know either.” I repeat her words from the other night as we turn onto Main Street.
“That’s not fair. In this case, I am easy to know. You know I like giving gifts. I was prepared and excited. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”
For a weird second, I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this too.
Right in the middle of the street outside A Likely Story, I stop in my tracks, tug on the lapel of her coat, and hold her face. “Give me a kiss right now, Christmas girlfriend.”
Subtly, she offers me her mouth, and I take and I take and I take—kissing her in the middle of the day, in the middle of downtown, for everyone to see.
Because even if this is temporary, I want her to know how it feels to not have to hide. To show the world how you feel about somebody. I feel so damn much for her I barely know what to do with the pressure in my chest when I’m near her. With the thud of my heart. With the peace and the calm I feel when we’re together.
I kiss her for longer than I’d planned. Drinking her in. Savoring her. Sweeping my lips across hers.
Until I finally break it. And right when I do—there’s cheering.
I turn around and—holy shit. I scan up and down the street. It’s like the whole town is here.
Mayor Bumblefritz is at the end of the block, megaphone to her mouth, saying, “People of Evergreen Falls, it looks like we’ve got the first romance to come out of the competition! Our two coaches—let’s give it up for Isla Marlowe and Rowan Bishop!”
Phones flash. Eloise grins from a few feet away, snapping photos. JJ whistles. Oliver and Aurora are filming. Someone yells, “Finally!”
“You two had ‘holiday romance’ written all over you,” JJ says. “Oliver and I were betting on how long it would take.”
Oliver grins. “Not long at all.” He doesn’t sound mad. He turns to Aurora, “Right, love?”
She gives him a quick kiss. “Sometimes you just need a little nudge.”
“The competition must have been your nudge,” Phillipa puts in, “since you two were lovebirds the night you came to the diner.”
Right. She served us that night. We danced then, too, as The Mistle Bros played. My god, she’s right. I’m not even sure what to say, and I have media training. I speak to the press after games. But nothing’s prepared me for being the center of attention like this.
But Isla is a problem solver. She squeezes my arm, reassuring me, and says, “It’s the magic of this town.”
I’m grateful she said something. I don’t want to look like a deer in headlights.
People snap more photos.
“It’s to promote the competition,” Eloise says, lowering her phone. “We’ll put it on the town’s socials. A little romance always helps sell it.”
“A little romance makes everything better,” Aurora adds.
Isla laughs, bright and sunny, but I hear it—a bit of performance in her voice, along with a tightness in her grip on my hand.
“I knew it!” the woman from Rudy’s calls. “Had my money on them since day one. Pay up,” she says to the guy who runs the North Pole Nook and Tavern.
He forks over a bill.
“Two weeks till an engagement,” someone else adds.
That one hits like a slap.
Isla’s still smiling, but it’s more practiced now. Polished. Carefully in place.
Because how the hell do we break it to these people later that we were pretending? That the story they’re now investing in wasn’t even supposed to happen?
The magic of their town didn’t create this. A prank on my teammates did.
I stay quiet. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
“I guess we’re not just fake-dating for my teammates anymore,” I mutter once the crowds thin and they return to their days.
Isla adjusts her scarf, her smile vanishing. “Nope. We’re fake-dating for the whole town.”
I shoot her a look. “You okay with that?”
She hesitates. “Of course,” she says after a beat. “I just didn’t expect to disappoint so many people when it’s over.”
The words are like a blow to the chest. Because she’s right.
The worst part is I don’t want it to be over. But it will be in three more days. And the photographic evidence of the best dates I’ve ever had will live forever online. It’s a sobering thought. The evidence of this fake romance will linger, even when we break up, claiming we’re better off as friends. From the pictures being snapped now to the one from the sleigh ride that Everly posted on the team’s socials. They tell a real story of a fake romance. I almost wish we’d never agreed to that sleigh ride pic, because I’m pretty sure I’ll be looking at it after Christmas.