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Utter Fool
Last Updated:
2025-05-02 00:56:56
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Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Desperate
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,
Last Updated : 2025-05-05Fake 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
Last Updated : 2025-05-05Fake 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
Last Updated : 2025-05-06Fake 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
Last Updated : 2025-05-06Fake 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
Last Updated : 2025-05-07Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Goodbye, Hockey; Hello, Pursuer
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
Last Updated : 2025-05-07Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player The Break-Up
I devoted ten years of my life to the only man I've ever loved, my ex-fiancé, Zane Whitmoore. Since our eighth grade in middle school, I was always by his side. I shaped myself into the perfect woman for him. I kept my black curls cut short, just the way he liked. I never wore makeup. I dressed in outfits he approved of because he didn't like when other men looked at me. For ten years, I did everything he wanted. I was going to be his wife. Everyone knew we were meant to be. So it made no sense when, six months ago, he threw it all away. "What did you say?" My voice was barely above a whisper. Zane stared at me across the restaurant table, his expression unreadable. I had made this reservation months ago for our ten-year anniversary. "I think we should break up," he said. I blinked. My heart pounded in my chest. "Zane, is this supposed to be a joke? Because it's not funny, babe." "I'm not joking, Emilia." "No, you have to be joking!" My voice rose slightly, and I glanced aro
Last Updated : 2025-03-12Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player The Whimsy Bakehouse
It's been six months since Zane left me. At first, I didn't take it well. He kicked me out, and I had nowhere to go until Tessa, my best friend, booked me the first flight to NYC and forced me to stay with her. I spent nights crashing on her couch, crying in the bathroom when she was at work. I ignored the little bakery - Tessa and I named it The Whimsy Bakehouse after getting smashingly drunk one night in college and having what she called a crazy epiphany - Zane had opened for me after he got his first NHL paycheck for weeks. I couldn't bring myself to step inside. Then Tessa got fed up. She called me a couch potato, said I was wasting my tears on an 'asshole jerk,' and dragged me back to work. Unlearning ten years of habits hasn't been easy. Some nights, I still catch myself staring at my phone, waiting for a message that will never come. Waiting for Zane to say he made a mistake. That he wants me back. But he never does. Not even in my dreams. It's Friday and I'm at the ba
Last Updated : 2025-03-12
Latest chapter
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Goodbye, Hockey; Hello, Pursuer
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
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Desperate
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
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Masochist
TESSAMy head is pounding. Like, heartbeat-in-my-skull kind of pounding.Hours spent hunched over a computer will do that to you. When the first set of migraines hit, I grabbed some Tylenol, swallowed it dry, and threw on my reading glasses like a grandma with a grudge.Ana from Legal? Probably curled up in bed, dreaming of spa days and balanced schedules — AKA she’s my polar opposite and has a life to live, probably tucked in bed, asleep by 12:58 AM — so she has no time to respond to my emails.Meanwhile, I’m still here.Alone.Again.Whatever.I stretch and let out a yawn. My desk is a disaster—coffee cups, highlighters, Post-its with half-written thoughts and tomorrow’s to-do list.1. Make amends with Emilia.2. Contact her family’s lawyers.3. Get her family photos copyrighted.I seriously do not get paid enough, as a best friend and PR manager. Sometimes, it feels like I work ten different jobs at once with absolutely nothing to show for it. Well, except in the Emilia department,
Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Grovelling Time
LIAMTHIRTY MINUTES AGOI have to force myself to stay put and not chase after her.Frustration knots in my chest, tightening like a fist around my ribs. It makes no sense.Why do I care this much?If Emilia wants to run back to Zane, that’s her choice. She doesn’t owe me anything.All she has to do is fix my image — turn me back into the media darling I used to be. That’s it. Simple.Hell, wouldn’t it be easier for her if she just left me in the dust and rode off into the sunset with her ex?Then why does the thought make me feel like I’ve just been checked into the boards. Hard.A million excuses race through my mind, but none of them make sense. None of them feel right.None of them are enough to make this up to Emilia.“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, leaning against the railing. For a second, I consider throwing myself over just to escape this mess.The party is still going strong behind me, even though Becca and Zane disappeared over an hour ago. The music is loud, pounding
