Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Alaric’s POV

Couch was definitely after my life. The moment he dropped the message in the group last night I knew it was something neither of us was going to like.

Jovian Mercer was standing outside the door, leaning nonchalantly against the wall with a coffee cup in one hand and his phone in the other.

He looked up when he heard my footsteps.

“Morning, Captain.”

“Don't start.”

“Start what? I'm greeting you. Is that against team regulations now?”

I ignored him and checked my watch.

My goal is to avoid any form of stupid arguments he tries to bring up.

The office door opened, and Coach Brandt gestured us inside.

“Sit down, both of you.”

I took the chair nearest to his desk. Jovian dropped into the one beside me, stretching his legs out.

Coach glanced at him. “Feet on the floor, Mercer.”

Jovian lowered them. “Yes, sir.”

Coach picked up a folder. “The university is hosting a series of events for prospective recruits and their families over the next few weeks. The hockey department has been asked to participate. You'll be representing the team at a student-athlete showcase this Friday.”

I frowned. “Both of us?”

“Yes. Wynn, you're the captain. Mercer, you're one of our most promising new players. You'll answer questions, participate in a skills demonstration, and speak with prospective recruits.”

Jovian raised his hand.

Coach stared at him. “What?”

“Do we get paid?”

“No.”

“Then I have a scheduling conflict.”

“This is not time for one of your silly jokes Mercer.”

Jovian sighed dramatically. “Worth a try.”

I leaned forward. “Coach, with all due respect, wouldn't it make more sense to pair me with someone who already understands how the team operates?”

Jovian turned toward me. “You could just say you don't want to spend time with me.”

“I'm trying to have a professional conversation.”

“But you're not being professional.”

“Enough,” Coach interrupted. “This is exactly the problem I'm talking about. You two can't spend five minutes in the same room without turning everything into a competition.”

“He started it,” we said simultaneously.

Coach stared at us.

Jovian grinned. “See? We're already communicating.”

I wanted to throw something at him. Or smash his head against the wall.

Coach closed the folder. “Friday is not optional. I expect both of you to show up, work together, and represent this team properly. If either of you embarrasses me, you'll be spending the following week running laps instead of practising.”

That finally shut Jovian up.

“Good,” Coach said. “Now get out of my office. I have other players to deal with.”

I stood immediately.

“Wynn, one more thing.”

I stopped.

“Your father called yesterday.”

My jaw tightened. “Why?”

“He wanted to confirm the schedule for Friday's showcase. Apparently, he'll be attending.”

For fuck sake, can't I have one moment to myself.

“And he asked me to make sure you're prepared,” Coach added. “Whatever is happening outside the rink, don't let it affect your performance.”

“I can handle my father.”

“I hope so.”

I left before the conversation could continue. Jovian followed me into the corridor, unusually quiet for the first few seconds. Before he opened his annoying mouth. “Your dad sounds fun.”

“You don't know anything about my father. So shut up.”

“True. I only know that whenever someone mentions him, you look like you'd rather be anywhere else.”

I stared at him, but he wasn't smiling.I ignored that fact.

“Stay out of my personal life, Mercer.”

“Gladly. Just don't take your bad mood out on me during the showcase.”

I walked away without answering.

The last thing I needed was Jovian Mercer acting as though he understood me, when I knew he didn't.

And he never would.

By the time I got home that afternoon, I had received three messages from my mother, two calls from my father, and a reminder about Sunday's dinner. They wouldn't stop reminding me about the dinner.

The dinner I was apparently expected to attend with a boyfriend I didn't have.

I threw my phone onto the couch and rubbed my face.

I had spent the entire morning trying to figure out how to fix the mess I'd created. Every possible solution led to the same problem: I couldn't tell my parents the truth without admitting I'd lied, and I couldn't invent a boyfriend out of thin air.

Unless I hired someone. The thought was ridiculous. So I immediately dismissed it.

Then my phone rang.

Mom. Not again.

I answered reluctantly. “Hi mom.”

“Alaric, sweetheart! How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Your father told me he'll be attending the showcase on Friday. We're looking forward to seeing you.”

“Great.”

“And don't forget Sunday evening. We've booked a lovely restaurant already.”

I closed my eyes. “Mom, about Sunday...”

“Have you told your boyfriend yet? We need to know if he'll be joining us.”

There it was again. I could hear the excitement in her voice.

“No. I haven't.”

“Well, make sure you do. Your father wants to meet him, and I'd like to get to know the person who's made you so secretive.”

I nearly choked.

Secretive? I'd never even met the man myself.

“Mom, I need to go.”

“All right, darling. See you soon.”

She ended the call before I could find another excuse.

I dropped my phone onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.

I needed a boyfriend by Sunday.

A fake one, obviously. Someone who could sit through dinner, smile politely, and leave without asking questions about my personal life.

My mind went through a list of people I knew. Teammates were out of the question. Most of them would either laugh in my face or tell the entire team before dinner. I wasn't close enough to anyone else to ask such a ridiculous favour.

Then I remembered someone who wouldn't be shocked by the request.

Someone who was into guys and it was a bit of public knowledge. Someone my parents would have no reason to suspect was pretending.

Jovian Mercer.

I sat upright.

Absolutely not.

I'd rather confess to my parents that I'd been lying than spend an entire evening pretending to date that insufferable man.

But the more I thought about it, the more the idea made sense. Jovian was confident, quick-witted, and comfortable around people. He could handle my parents' questions without looking like he wanted to escape through a window.

There was just one problem.

He hated me almost as much as I hated him.

I picked up my phone and opened our team group chat. His number was right there.

I stared at it for a long moment before locking the screen.

No. I wasn't doing this.

I could find someone else. Or just tell my parents the truth. I could—

I unlocked my phone and opened Jovian's contact. My thumb hovered over the call button. I could already imagine his reaction. The laughter. The ridiculous comments. The endless teasing he'd use against me for the rest of our lives.

I hated him. But I hated the thought of my father discovering I'd lied even more. So I pressed call.

He answered after three rings.

“Wynn? Did you finally realise you can't survive without hearing my voice?”

I gripped the phone tighter. “I need to ask you something.”

“Oh, this sounds serious. Are you dying?”

“Mercer.”

“Fine, fine. What do you want?”

I took a breath. “I need a favour.”

There was a pause. Then he laughed.

“Excuse you. Did I hear that right? You? Asking me for a favour? I need to record this moment.”

“Are you going to listen or not?”

“I'm listening, sweetheart.”

I shut my eyes and counted to three.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for one evening.”

Silence. For the first time since I'd met him, Jovian Mercer had absolutely nothing to say. Then, slowly, he spoke.

“I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?”

I swallowed my pride.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for one dinner with my parents.”

Another pause.

Then he burst out laughing. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it in disbelief.

“Are you finished?” I demanded when he finally stopped.

“Not even close.” I could hear him struggling to catch his breath. “Alaric Wynn, the man who looks like he'd rather swallow broken glass than speak to me, wants me to pretend to date him?”

“It's one dinner.”

“Are you sure you called the right person?”

“I know exactly who I'm calling.”

“Then you've officially lost your mind.”

“Mercer, I wouldn't ask if I had another option.”

His laughter faded slightly.

“Why me?”

I hesitated. “Because you're gay, and my parents won't question it.”

“Wow. Such a romantic explanation. I'm touched.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

He didn't answer immediately.

Then his voice changed, becoming more thoughtful. “What's in it for me?”

I frowned. “What?”

“You heard me, Captain. You want me to spend an evening pretending to be in love with you. That sounds like a lot of work, especially considering how much I enjoy annoying you.”

“I'm not asking you to fall in love with me. It's dinner.”

“And I don't do charity work, Wynn”

I clenched my jaw. “Name your price.”

He chuckled softly.

“Oh, I have a few ideas.”

“Mercer—”

“First, you're going to tell me exactly why you need a fake boyfriend. Second, you're going to stop treating me like I'm some reckless rookie who doesn't know how to play hockey.”

“That has nothing to do with this.”

“It does if you want me to help you.”

I stared at the wall, trying to keep my temper under control.

He continued, “And third, you don't get to order me around all weekend. If we're doing this, we're doing it my way too.”

I could practically hear the smugness in his voice.

“You haven't even agreed yet.”

“I'm considering it.”

“Then consider this: I can find someone else.”

“Of course you can. So why are you calling me?”

I had no answer that wouldn't make the situation worse.

Jovian laughed quietly.

“That's what I thought. I'll hear the rest of your explanation tomorrow, Captain. Then I'll decide whether pretending to be your boyfriend is worth my time.”

“Tomorrow? I need an answer tonight.”

“Then you should've asked me sooner.”

“Mercer!”

The call ended.

I would rather drown than ask for his help but I need it.