Chapter 4 Our First Fake Date

Harper's POV,

"This is stupid!"

I yelled, throwing a red sweater onto the bed where four other rejected options were already piled up.

"Why did I agree to this?

Why did I think this was a good idea?"

I muttered under my breath as I stood in front of Maya’s closet, holding my fifth outfit and hating everything about my life.

Maya was sitting on the floor, casually scrolling through her phone.

"Because Joel invited you to his wedding and you want to show up looking like you won. Now pick something before Crew gets here in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes? Oh Gosh.

Could this day get any worse?

I grabbed a black top and held it up. "Is this too funeral? I don't want to go there looking like I'm mourning."

"Then don't wear black."

"But black is slimming and I haven't worked out in six weeks. And what if there are Instagram models there and I look like a potato next to them?"

My voice was getting higher and I could feel the panic crawling up my throat. "What if he takes one look at me and realizes this was a mistake? What if I can't do this? What if I freeze up and everyone can tell it's fake?"

"Harper." Maya stood up and walked over to me. She took the black top out of my hands and threw it back in the closet. Then she pulled out a navy blue sweater.

"Wear this. With your dark jeans. And stop spiraling. You're going to a hockey game, not walking the red carpet at the Oscars."

I took the sweater from her. It was soft and fitted without being tight. "You think this works?"

"I think you need to go change before you have a full meltdown." Maya pushed me toward the bathroom. "And leave your hair down. You always hide behind that bun when you're nervous."

I changed into the sweater and jeans and stared at myself in the mirror.

I looked fine. Pretty normal. Except my hands wouldn't stop shaking and I felt like I was going to throw up.

This was insane. I was about to go on a fake date with a man I'd just met yesterday. A man who fought people for a living.

Still lost in my thoughts, my phone buzzed on the counter.

Crew: I'm here.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

I walked out of the bathroom and Maya was waiting by the door with her phone up like she was going to document this for blackmail purposes.

"Good luck," she said. "Remember, you're happy. You're confident. And you're totally into him. Sell it."

"What if I can't?"

"Then fake it. You faked being happy with Joel for ten years. This is only three months." Maya grinned at me. "Now go. And try not to look like you're walking to your execution."

I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs. My legs felt wobbly and my stomach was doing backflips. When I pushed through the building's front door, Crew was leaning against a black SUV with his hands in his pockets.

He straightened up when he saw me and his eyes went from my face down to my shoes and back up. I felt my face get hot out of the nervousness already climbing through my skin.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks." My voice came out weird and squeaky. "You too."

He opened the passenger door for me and I climbed in. The car smelled like leather and something else, maybe his cologne. It was clean and organized which surprised me for some reason.

Crew got in and started the engine. We pulled away from the curb and neither of us said anything. The silence was so loud I wanted to scream.

Say something. Say anything. Don't just sit here like an idiot.

"So," I said finally. "Should we talk about our story? Like how we met and stuff?"

He glanced at me. "What do you want to say?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking." I twisted my hands in my lap. "We should probably keep it simple, right? So we don't mess it up?"

"Maya introduced us. We went for coffee. We've been seeing each other for about a month." He merged onto the highway. "Does that work for you?"

"Yeah. Okay. A month." I pulled out my phone and opened my notes app because if I didn't write this down I was definitely going to forget it. "And what do I call you? Like in public?"

"Crew is fine."

"Just Crew? Not babe or baby or anything?"

"Do I look like someone who answers to babe?"

I looked at him. He had his eyes on the road but there was the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"No," I admitted. "You really don't."

"Then just Crew."

I typed it all into my notes. How we met, how long we've been dating, what to call him. This was so stupid. Normal couples didn't need spreadsheets to remember basic facts about each other.

"What about you?" Crew asked. "What do you want me to know?"

"Um." I hadn't thought about that part. "For me, I like coffee with too much cream and sugar. I wanted to open my own sports medicine clinic but I kept putting it off. I watch too much reality TV when I'm stressed. And I actually know a lot about hockey but I usually pretend I don't because guys get weird about it."

He looked at me with raised eyebrows. "You pretend?"

"I went to Joel's games for ten years. I know what icing is. I know what a power play is. I'm not an idiot."

"So why pretend?"

"Because guys like explaining things. It makes them feel smart. And somewhat… masculine." I shrugged. "If I act like I already know everything, they get intimidated or whatever."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Well, welcome to dating as a woman."

He shook his head but he was smiling a little. "Don't do that with me. If you know hockey, just say you know hockey. I'm not going to be intimidated because you understand the sport I play."

Something about the way he said it made me feel less panicky. Like maybe this wasn't going to be as terrible as I thought.

We drove for another few minutes and then I saw the arena up ahead. And outside the entrance there were photographers everywhere. At least a dozen of them with huge cameras and that hungry look that meant they were waiting for something interesting to happen.

My panic came rushing back all at once.

"Oh my God," I said quietly. "There's so many of them."

"They're always here." Crew pulled into the parking lot. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it? They're going to take pictures of us. What if I look terrible? What if I blink weird or my face does something stupid?"

"You're not going to look terrible."

"You don't know that."

He put the car in park and turned to look at me. "Harper. Breathe. It's just photographers. They take pictures. That's their job. You smile, we walk inside, and it's done."

"But what if–"

He reached over and took my hand. His hand was warm and much bigger than mine and the touch sent a shock through me that I was not prepared for.

"Just follow my lead," he said. "We're two people going to a hockey game. That's it. Don't overthink it."

I nodded because I couldn't find my voice. He squeezed my hand once and then let go and got out of the car. He came around to my side and opened the door, offering his hand to help me down.

I took it because that's what a girlfriend would do. His hand was warm and solid and I held on to it like it was the only thing keeping me from floating away.

We started walking toward the entrance and the cameras started flashing immediately. The noise was overwhelming. Click click click click, over and over, and people were shouting questions that I couldn't even understand.

Crew kept walking like nothing was happening. He didn't let go of my hand.

"Crew! Who's your date?"

"Is this your girlfriend?"

"How long have you been together?"

I tried to smile but my face felt frozen. My heart was beating so hard I thought it might actually explode.

I couldn't believe my eyes. This was real. It was actually happening. I was holding hands with Crew Lawson in front of a dozen cameras and tomorrow this was going to be everywhere and Joel was going to see it and–

Crew squeezed my hand and I looked up at him. He was looking down at me with this expression that was almost soft. Like he was trying to tell me something without saying it out loud.

“You're okay Harper. Just breathe.” I whispered to myself as we walked through the doors into the arena.

The noise from the photographers cut off as soon as the doors closed behind us. I realized I'd been holding my breath for too long and just let it out all at once.

"You okay?" Crew asked quietly.

"Yeah." My voice was shaky. "That was just a lot."

"You did good." He still hadn't let go of my hand. "Come on. Section's this way."

We walked through the arena and people kept staring. Whispering. I heard someone say "Is that Crew Lawson?" and someone else say "Who's the girl?"

Crew led me up a flight of stairs to what I expected would be some kind of luxury box, but instead he stopped at regular seats. Really good seats, but still just seats in the crowd.

"I thought we'd be in a suite or something," I said.

"Looks more real this way." He gestured for me to go in first.

That's when I saw them.

Four women sitting in the row, all of them dressed like they knew exactly how good they looked. And they all turned to stare at me with expressions that ranged from curious to calculating.

One of them, a blonde with the kind of bone structure that belonged on magazine covers, smiled at me. Though, it wasn't a friendly one.

"Well," she said. "Crew finally brought someone to a game. This should be interesting."