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Overnight Operation
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2025-08-20 23:58:55
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Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Glitter Girl
EMILIABy the time Lacey and Julie drop us off at the hotel, I’m running on fumes. My feet ache, my legs are screaming, and even pressing the elevator button feels like a full-body workout.Somewhere between the lobby and the elevator, Tessa vanishes — probably off charming the front desk clerk — and texts me to “go warm up the room.” Which is her code for “make sure no serial killer is hiding in the closet.”Ever since we watched that one true crime documentary back in college, she’s refused to stay in a hotel room alone. We ended up booking a suite big enough for the both of us.Not that I mind. Sharing means she pays half — and I get someone to scream at the creepy hallway noises with.When I step into the elevator, Liam’s name flashing across my screen lights me up like a kid on Christmas morning.“Hey, love,” he says the moment I answer, and I can hear the smile in his voice. Mine matches it instantly.“Hi. Are you at the hotel already?”“Yeah, rooming with Wolfe,” he sighs. “I h
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Shopping-Induced Serotonin
EMILIAChicago is — to absolutely no one’s surprise — not the friendship vacation we both needed.Tessa’s already fanned herself with her hand at least five times before she groans, “Why’s it so fucking hot?”“It’s nineteen degrees, Tess.”“I’m Russian,” she mutters dramatically. “That’s nineteen degrees too high.”“No one told you to wear a turtleneck and an overcoat.”“That guy on the weather forecast better hope we never cross paths,” she grumbles, pulling at her collar. Then she checks her phone and pouts. “Where’s your friend? I’m going to have a heatstroke before she gets here.”“Lacey will be here in a few minutes. You’re going to love her—she’s amazing.”“I’ll pretend I didn’t get jealous when you said that.”We’re standing outside the airport, and we only landed about thirty minutes ago. The city smells like rain and traffic and nostalgia, and all I can think about is getting back home—to our bed, Liam’s arm slung over me, strawberries and chocolate waiting on the nightstand.
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Friendship Vacation
EMILIAI’m still wiping my tears when Liam tells me he has to be at practice. I’m a little surprised he’s so willing to leave me here alone with the sculptures, but when I tell him I want a while longer to look around mynew gallery, he just smiles and lets me.It’ll take time to get used to all this.Home, with Liam.And this gallery that’s… apparently mine now.I kiss him goodbye, wish him luck, and watch his car pull away before turning back to explore. The space is mostly empty—just Luther’s sculptures scattered across the room. The walls are bare, waiting. I can already imagine other artists’ work hanging here someday, pieces breathing life into every corner.The thought warms me.It doesn’t take long before I find a door leading outside. There’s a small photo tied to the handle with a bit of rope. I don’t recognise the place in the picture, but I recognise me—a hydrangea tucked in my hair, my tongue sticking out at whoever’s behind the camera.At the bottom, in Liam’s unmistakabl
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player All I’ve Ever Wanted
EMILIAThe doors swing open and I stop dead.At first, I think Liam’s dragged me into a museum. The ceilings are high, light spilling in through a skylight. Everything gleams—glass, stone, polished floors. But it’s not the building that steals the air from my lungs.It’s what’s inside.Sculptures.Everywhere.Some stand tall and smooth, carved from pale marble. Others twist in dark bronze, caught mid-motion like they’re about to move again. A few are glass—fragile and glowing—throwing tiny rainbows across the floor when the light hits them.I stop walking. My breath catches. The room is so quiet it almost hums, like even the air’s afraid to disturb the art. My footsteps echo when I move, and for a second, I feel like I’m walking through someone else’s memory.When I glance back, Liam’s still by the door—jaw tight, shoulders drawn. He’s not looking at the sculptures.He’s looking at me.I walk back to him. “Liam. What are we doing here?”He shifts, shoving his hands into his pockets li
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player World’s Worst Disguise
EMILIAThe brunch spot is already packed when we pull up. There’s a line curling out the door and down the block, and I’m ready to tell Liam to forget it and take me to the nearest diner. But he squeezes my hand, grins like he’s got the whole thing figured out, and says, “Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”I roll my eyes but secretly? I kind of love that he wants to do something this… normal with me.By some miracle (or maybe because the hostess recognized him through the world’s worst disguise), we’re seated within fifteen minutes. The place smells like coffee and sugar and way-too-expensive bread.The menu, though, is chaos.“Twenty bucks for avocado toast?” I whisper. “Is the avocado gold-plated?”“Deconstructed waffle flight,” Liam reads. “What the hell does that mean? The waffle comes in pieces?”I snort. “Order it. I want to see.”I snort. “Order it. I want to see.”“Not a chance,” he says, ignoring me completely and handing the menu back like he’s made a life-altering decision. He g
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Knight In Shining U-Haul
EMILIATrue to her word, Tessa actually helped me finish packing and even called a moving company last night. Apparently the owner had a college crush on her and was thrilled to be her knight in shining U-Haul.Now that I’m really moving out, though, I feel… emotional. Sentimental. Pathetic, honestly. The movers have already hauled my stuff out, Liam’s about three minutes away, and I’m still clinging to Tessa like a deranged koala while she actively tries to peel me off.“Get off me, you big oaf.”“Tess, I’ll miss you so much,” I whine. “I feel awful. You’re obsessed with me, you won’t last a night without me.”“You’re literally just a drive away. I’ll survive.”“Who else am I supposed to watch the Confidential Family finale with while we drink wine and make fun of their life choices?”She shoots me a look so sharp it could kill. I cough. “Right. Sorry. Forgot alcohol is now on the very sensitive topic list.”“You know what? Get the hell out. Oh thank God—he’s here.” Tessa finally pri
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