Offside With The Devil: Fake Dating The Hockey Star

•ALEXIS•

━━━╾𖤓╼━━━

I stepped into the hockey house and headed straight for Dylan’s room. The place was never quiet. Someone was always laughing too loud or arguing about a game or coming back from a party at three in the morning.

His door was unlocked. That used to feel like trust. Tonight it just made it easier to walk in with both hands full.

The takeout bag was already leaking. Grease soaked through the bottom and dripped onto my shoe as I pushed the door open with my shoulder. I was halfway into the living room before I stopped.

Someone’s bare ass was moving between two pairs of spread legs on the couch. My old bookstore sweatshirt was still draped over the back of it.

Dylan’s low groan hit me next. The same sound he used to make against my neck when he was trying to be quiet. Sierra was leaned back with her head hanging off the armrest. Paige was under him, one hand still gripping the cushion like she didn’t want to let go.

I stood there long enough for the bag to drip again.

Dylan looked up.

His eyes went wide for a second. Then his face went cold. He didn’t stop. He kept moving while he stared at me, like he wanted me to stay and watch.

A short, ugly laugh came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Sierra scrambled off the couch and nearly fell. Paige gasped and I swore I heard my name. Dylan finally pulled out, grabbed the nearest pair of boxers, and yanked them on like that was going to fix anything.

“Alexis…”

“Don’t.” My voice came out flat. I set the bag on the floor because my hands had started to shake and I wasn’t going to let them see it. “Just don’t.”

Sierra pulled a throw blanket over herself. Paige sat up, hair a mess, mouth swollen. She looked at me like I was the one who walked into the wrong room.

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Dylan said.

I laughed again, louder. “It’s exactly what it looks like. You’re fucking two of my friends on the couch I bought with my tip money.”

He just stood there in crooked boxers.

“And you saw me. You looked right at me and you didn’t even slow down.”

Paige opened her mouth. I pointed at her.

“Don’t. Yesterday you texted me asking if I wanted to study. You already knew you were coming here.”

She shut her mouth and looked at the floor.

Dylan ran a hand through his hair the way he always did when a coach yelled at him. “You’re overreacting. We’ve been having problems lately.”

“We’ve been off because I’ve been working doubles so my mom’s insurance doesn’t get cut off. Every time I tried to talk to you about bills you either changed the subject or put your hands on me.”

Sierra made a small sound. “Alexis, we didn’t mean…”

“You meant it enough to take your clothes off.” I kept my eyes on Dylan. “How long?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“How long, Dylan?”

“A few weeks.” His jaw was tight. “Maybe longer. Does it matter?”

“It matters when Sierra sat in my section at the diner last week and asked how my mom was doing. Then she came here and let you fuck her on my sweatshirt.”

Dylan shook his head. “We weren’t even exclusive anymore. Not really.”

“We never had that conversation.”

“We didn’t need to. You checked out months ago. All I hear about is money and hospitals and how tired you are. I’m twenty-four. I didn’t sign up to play caretaker.”

The word landed harder than the sight of him still half-naked.

“Caretaker,” I repeated. “That’s what you call it when your girlfriend’s mother is dying and she’s the only reason you eat and the lights stay on.”

“Don’t put that on me.”

“I’m not. I’m taking it off.” I grabbed my sweatshirt off the back of the couch and shook it once. Someone else’s perfume was all over it. “You don’t get to call me pathetic for needing help while you’re balls-deep in the girls who used to pretend they liked me.”

Something in his face changed.

“You are pathetic,” he said. “You walk around this campus like the world owes you soft hands because your mom got sick. People get sick. People die. The rest of us keep living.”

Sierra made a noise like she wanted to sink into the wall. Paige stared at the floor.

“Keep living,” I said. “Is that what this is? You keep living all over my friends?”

“At least they don’t make me feel like a villain for wanting something that isn’t covered in medical debt.”

“Fuck you.”

“Already did,” he said, almost gently. “Plenty of times. I just got bored once the novelty of playing the hero wore off.”

I kicked the takeout bag before I could think about it. The container split and greasy fries scattered across the hardwood. Sierra yelped and jumped back. Dylan stepped away like he thought I was about to hit him next.

“Get out,” he said.

“This isn’t your house.”

“It’s the hockey house. You’re not on the list anymore.” He reached for his phone on the coffee table. “I’ll have someone bring your shit to the curb tomorrow. Don’t make a scene.”

I looked at the two girls still half-covered on the couch. Sierra wouldn’t meet my eyes. Paige had tears starting, the pretence type.

“You knew,” I said. “Both of you. You sat in my section and tipped five percent and asked about my mom, then came here and let him fuck you on my sweatshirt. I hope the orgasms were worth it. I hope they make up for how fast he’ll get bored of you too.”

Paige’s face crumpled. Sierra whispered something that might have been sorry.

I didn’t wait.

I walked out with my phone and the sweatshirt in my fist. My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped my phone when I pulled it out. Three missed texts from Jasmine. One from the hospital portal reminding me the next lab payment was due in six days.

I stared at the numbers until they blurred, then forced myself to type.

Jasmine answered immediately.

Jasmine: Where the hell are you? I’m coming.