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The Mess That Is Zane Whitmoore
Last Updated:
2025-04-08 23:24:38
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Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player The Moments That Shape Us
EMILIAThey say everyone has core memories—the moments that shape us, the ones we never forget.For as long as I can remember, every single one of mine has had Zane in it.Every laugh. Every late-night drive. Every whispered promise.Everything worth remembering was only worth it because he was there.But now, as I sit alone in my closed bakery, staring at the faint outline of dried blood on my palm, I wonder—what happens when the person tied to all your memories becomes the one thing you want to forget?What happens when the moments that once felt like home now feel like a trap?I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memories away. But they come anyway.Zane’s voice, warm and teasing. His hands are steady on the steering wheel as he drives us through the city at night. The way he used to look at me like I was the only thing he ever wanted.The way he looked at me today.Like I was nothing. Like I
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EMILIAWhen I get to Tessa’s apartment, the first thing I do is head straight for the shower.I take my time, scrubbing away the day — the mess, the stress, all of it. By the time I step out, I feel lighter, like I’m washing off a version of myself I don’t want to be anymore.Perfect. That was the plan anyway.I slap a bandaid on my hand, wrap my curls in a towel, and head to my bedroom. Clothes and makeup supplies are scattered everywhere — new things I bought over the past two weeks.Tess didn’t want me at the bakery after the location got leaked. She was terrified for me. The thought makes me smile.But then I spent too much of my bakery money on impulse buys, so I had to get back to work — despite Tessa’s protests. Funny, considering a few months ago, she was the one dragging me to work.I didn’t just shop while I was home. I watched YouTube tutorials, learned how to dress cuter, do my makeup, and style my 4C hair. I’m no expert, but I’m way better than before.I pull on a white c
Last Updated : 2025-04-09Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Beverage Ad
EMILIA“What’s something Whitmoore would find weird if I didn’t know that about you?”Liam walks beside me, a Mickey Mouse headband perched on his head — one I made him wear after buying it, with his own money, of course. His arms are loaded with plushies and stuffed animals, all won by me.After watching him fail miserably at winning a single prize, I got fed up, took over, and — well, let’s just say once I won one, I had to win more.It’s not my fault I can’t remember the last time I set foot in an amusement park.I wander ahead, scanning the stalls for something new to try. His question lingers in the air and I’m tempted to mention Zane’s visit.But really, that’s none of his business, I muse.I think for a second. “Nothing? I don’t think he actually knows that much about me either.”The words feel strange even as I say them.Liam’s eyebrows knit together.I mean, Zane and I were together for ten years. How can he know nothing about me?“I mean, he knows me on some level,” I clarif
Last Updated : 2025-04-09Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Golden Boy Card
EMILIAThe ride starts, and I hit the gas, aiming straight for Liam. His eyes go wide — then BAM! I crash into him, sending his car spinning.“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he yells, quickly recovering.I laugh, swerving just as he tries to hit me back. He misses.“That all you got, Mr. Beverage Ad Guy?”His eyes narrow. “You are so dead.”We race around the arena, bumping into each other, dodging, laughing. Kids are screaming, cars are crashing — it’s complete chaos all around us.At some point, Liam gets stuck in a corner, and I don’t waste the chance. I slam into him three times.“Are you serious?” he groans, gripping the wheel like it betrayed him.I flip my hair dramatically. “Some of us are just naturally talented, Liam.”The ride slows to a stop, and I hop out, grinning. Liam stays behind, rubbing his jaw like he’s thinking way too hard about something.“What?” I ask, raising a brow. “Sore loser? Not surprising, honestly—”“So, what would you actually want for your birthday?”
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EMILIAAfter all that screaming, I’m pretty sure Liam and I are scarier than anything inside that haunted house.We stumble outside, gasping for air between fits of laughter. My heart is still racing, and I swear I can still feel the ghostly hand that grabbed my ankle.Liam runs a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head. “That was ridiculous.”I smirk and nudge him. “Says the guy who almost punched an employee.”“In my defense,” he says, completely serious, “he shouldn’t have jumped out like that. Fight or flight, and I chose fight.”I snort. “You screamed.”He glares at me, but there’s no real anger behind it. “And you clung to me like your life depended on it.”I open my mouth to argue, but he just raises an eyebrow, waiting.Ugh. I hate that he’s right.“Whatever,” I mumble, looking away. “Let’s go find something slightly less terrifying.”Liam chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he follows me. “What, like the teacups?”I roll my eyes. “You wish.”We find another p
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LIAM“The people in the bushes would probably find it weird if we don’t go on the Ferris wheel, huh?” I say, keeping my voice light.Emilia hums, subtly glancing over her shoulder, but it’s obvious enough.So she didn’t notice them before.Her frown deepens, but she shrugs. “Well, I live to disappoint expectations.”I bark out a laugh. Of course she does.For a second, I reach for her hand. But at the last moment, I change course and grab her wrist instead.She’s been avoiding holding my hand all day. Not outright, just small things like pretending to adjust her bag, tucking her hair behind her ear, reaching for her phone.At first, I thought it’s the whole out of sight, out of mind thing.If she doesn’t hold my hand, maybe she can pretend these last two weeks didn’t happen. Maybe she can even pretend that I was there. I didn’t have the right to feel weird about it.At the restaurant, I caught a glimpse of her arm.The scratches weren’t obvious at first, not against her light brown sk
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EMILIA We spend the rest of the day trying out different rides. After much persuasion — more like straight-up bullying — Liam drags me onto the rollercoaster. And after I promptly throw up everything I’ve eaten today, he tries to make up for it by taking me on the teacups. Not exactly the apology I had in mind, but at least I don’t feel like I’m dying. Hours pass in a blur of flashing lights, laughter, and the kind of fun that makes you forget why you were even here in the first place. No thoughts of the press, no contract hanging over my head — just this. By the time Liam pulls up in front of Tessa’s place, I’m exhausted but weirdly content. I unbuckle my seatbelt and hop out of the car, only to realize he isn’t following. I turn back, finding him still sitting behind the wheel, looking… confused? “Why aren’t you coming?” I ask, waving him over. He runs a hand through his already messy hair before finally unbuckling. "I don’t know, kinda feels like I’m being left behind after be
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ZANEThe unread messages started piling up the night I left for Chicago.I clench my fist around my phone, trying to steady my breathing as my feet pound against the treadmill. The steady hum of the machine does nothing to quiet the frustration building up inside me.I’m in the indoor gym in our house. Emilia researched the brands — only filling the house with the best of the best — of all the equipment and decorated the gym meticulously according to my tastes. Hell, she’d decorated our entire house.Hmph. Well, I guess it’s just my house now.The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The house feels emptier, quieter—like something’s missing. But I shove that feeling down, focusing on the burn in my legs instead. It’s better this way. It has to be.The week Emilia moved out, Bec moved in.It was easier that way. Having someone who understood what it was like to always be in the spotlight. Someone who got the pressure, the expectations, the constant need to be at your best. We cou
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EMILIAIt hurts. God, it hurts to hear her say that. But I also know exactly what it’s like to love someone who never chooses you. And I think of Liam, who I can never choose. My chest twists and that wound he left starts stinging again. So I take a breath and say the only thing I can. “…Okay.” “Can we please talk about this mess now?” I hear a loud thud, like something heavy just hit her desk. Yep — she’s definitely in her home office. Because Tessa, unlike normal human beings, thinks stress is a hobby and work is therapy. Sometimes, I wonder if she throws herself into work because she’s chasing the stable life her dad never gave her… Or if it’s just her way of coping — trying to fill the emptiness he left behind when he made her feel like she was never enough. “What the hell happened?” she snaps. “I swear to God, I’m going to kill that bastard.” I pause, chewing on my bottom lip. There’s no easy way to say this. No cute joke to soften the blow. So I do the hard thing. The
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EMILIAWhat the hell do I even say to that?I just... stare at him. Like an idiot. My mouth opens, but no words come out.Liam gives me this small, sad smile — dimples and all — and somehow that’s worse. It knocks the air right out of my lungs.“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes lightly against my hand, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me. “I didn’t say it because I expected you to.”A million responses spin through my brain — yes, no, maybe, kiss me — but none of them make it out.So instead, I blurt out, “I still don’t forgive you.”His lips twitch. “Deserved.”“And you’re going to have to work for it,” I add, trying — and failing — to sound stern.Liam leans in just a little, like he can’t help himself. His voice drops low, almost like a secret. “Well,” he says, that crooked smile stealing the air from my lungs, “I’d look better begging on my knees anyway.”My heart absolutely short-circuits. And judging by the wicked glint in his eyes, he knows
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Reignite
EMILIAPRESENT TIMEI wake up with a sharp breath, like I’ve just hit the surface after drowning.He's gone again.My chest rises and falls like I’ve been running, chasing something I can’t have. I don’t scream, even though I want to. The pain sits there, right beneath my ribcage, steady and sharp.I feel the wetness on my face. My pillow is soaked. I’m not surprised — I don’t even try to wipe the tears away this time. I just lie there in the silence, with my eyes closed letting the ache settle.Letting the cloud of nostalgia and longing pass so I can finally remember where I am.Where I’m supposed to be.But I don’t fall apart.Not like I used to.I take a deep breath and put a hand over my chest, like I’m trying to hold myself together. The grief is still there. It probably always will be. But so is something else.Me.For a second, I don’t know where I am. I’m still half in the dream — chocolate on our fingers, Luther’s laugh echoing in the kitchen, his hand in my hair, warm and fa
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Strawberries, Milk & Broken Hearts
EMILIALuther always leaves the kitchen lights on.Every. Single. Time.It’s why Diana says he has the stealth of a dying elephant and why Mum cuts his allowance every time she finds out he’s raided the fridge at midnight.“Everything in life is a choice,” Mum always says, flipping through her morning paper, while Dad rubs her shoulders and nods like she’s preaching gospel. “And unfortunately, that includes your poor career decisions. If you choose to be a criminal, at least be a competent one.”So yeah — tonight is no different.I tiptoe down the stairs, socked feet silent on the wood, already mentally preparing my ‘caught you red-handed’ speech.The kitchen lights are on. The fridge door’s wide open.And someone’s standing there.I scowl. Rookie mistake, Luther. Mum would’ve had your head if the staff weren’t all gone for the holidays.When I walk into the kitchen, I find Luther sitting on the counter.He’s sketching something on his iPad with his Apple Pencil, completely in his own
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player The Figure In The Rain
EMILIAThey say ignorance is bliss.Whoever said that has never buried their brother.I stand in the rain, dressed in all black, clutching an umbrella like it can hold me together. But nothing can. Not today.My eyes blur as I stare at the headstone:Luther Christian Vanderbilt(1995–2018)Just seeing it makes it hard to breathe.In front of me, my mother — always perfect, always cold — is on the ground, sobbing like a child. Her elegant coat is soaked, her hands shaking as she reaches for the gravestone like she can pull him back.My father stands beside her, trying to hold the umbrella over them both, but he’s crying too hard to see straight.And then there’s my little sister, Diana, standing beside me, shaking with anger and grief. She looks so much like Luther when she smiles and like me when she cries.But she’s not smiling now.She’s sobbing — and every tear feels like a dagger.“Was it worth it?” she snaps. Her voice is loud enough for people to turn. She doesn’t care. “Tell me
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Vulnerable
LIAMEIGHT HOURS AGOI don’t think.I can’t.Because if I let myself process what I’m seeing — what he was trying to do to her — I’ll lose it completely.Stone has Emilia backed against the wall, and the look on her face? Pure fear. Her eyes are wide, glassy. She’s frozen, small, shaking.My heart nearly stops.Then something inside me snaps.I yank him off her, and without hesitating, I throw my fist at his jaw.CRACK.The sound is sickening, but satisfying.“Shit!” Stone stumbles, clutching his face. He looks at me like he’s just now realising he messed with the wrong person.But I’m not even close to done.All I can see is her — Emilia. Scared. Cornered. Pressed against that damn wall by someone who thought he had the right to touch her.My vision goes red.I grab him by the collar and slam him back against the wall.“Touch her again,” I growl, my voice low and shaking with rage, “and I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”Another punch. Harder this time.Stone drops to the floor, groanin
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TESSAONE YEAR AGOI’m walking down the hallway, hunting for Mr. Harris — my boss who definitely gets a kick out of mispronouncing my last name.It’s Orlov.Not Ralov.Thanks for nothing, Dad. Pretty much the only thing he gave me was a last name people can’t say right.Just as I’m about to round the corner, someone yanks me into an open door.I nearly scream — until I see him.Those grey-blue eyes. That stupid heart-melting smile.“You really couldn’t wait ‘til I clocked out, huh?” I breathe out, pulse still racing.Lyle’s standing there, leaning in close. His strawberry blond hair is damp — probably sweat — and somehow, it makes him look even hotter. It should be illegal.My heart skips. Then trips. Then forgets how to beat entirely.“It takes everything in me not to lock you in my apartment and throw away the key,” he says, voice low and rough, “just so no one else can even look at you.”God. He really knows how to talk.I laugh, but there’s no real joy in it. I push at his chest,
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Utter Fool
TESSAGod help me.Of course it’s Aaron freaking Cobalt. Because why not?There he is — gliding across the ice like it’s an extension of his body, all smooth lines and effortless control. He isn’t just good. He was stupidly, unfairly, annoyingly good.Left winger for the NYC Titans, but honestly? If Liam is the heart of the team, Aaron is the sharp edge. Fast, unpredictable, and lethal when it counts. The kind of player that makes defence lines cry and sports commentators lose their minds.Everyone loves to compare them — Liam, the golden boy center, all power and precision. Aaron, the chaos wrapped in charm, turning plays into magic like it was no big deal. Together, they make the Titans impossible to beat. Separately? Still a damn nightmare.And of course, he’s the last person I want to see right now.I spin on my heel, making a beeline for the exit, but my stupid heels betray me. The sharp CLACK, CLACK echoes louder than his skates slicing the ice, and I hear him stop. I can practi
