First Date?

Ariana's POV

I arrived at the campus café a few minutes early, my stomach already in knots. The place was busy with students grabbing late lunches, but the corner table Jace had suggested felt too exposed. I sat down, smoothing my simple sweater over my lap, and tried to look normal. My hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the strap of my bag.

Jace walked in right on time. Tall, broad-shouldered in a dark hoodie, he scanned the room until his eyes landed on me. He gave a small, careful smile as he approached. It looked almost real.

“Hey,” he said, pulling out the chair across from me. His voice was low, like he was trying not to draw more attention. “You came.”

I nodded, forcing my own smile. It felt stiff on my face. “I said I would.”

He sat down, his knee accidentally brushing mine under the table. We both pulled back at the same time. The brief contact sent a small jolt through me that I immediately ignored.

“So,” he started, leaning forward slightly. “How do we do this? Should we order something first? Make it look normal?”

I glanced around. A couple of girls at the next table were already stealing looks in our direction. “Yeah, coffee is fine. Nothing too… couple-y yet.”

Jace waved over the barista and ordered two coffees. When she left, he turned back to me. “You look nervous.”

“I am nervous,” I admitted, my fingers tracing the edge of the table. “This feels weird and everyone’s watching. Or at least it feels like they are.”

He gave a small laugh, but it sounded a little strained. “Tell me about it. I’ve been getting texts from the guys all morning asking how our first date is going.”

The barista brought our drinks. Jace slid mine closer to me, his fingers brushed mine for a second. I pulled my hand back quickly.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us stirring our coffees even though neither of us had added anything. The quiet stretched, awkward and heavy.

“So,” I said finally, trying to fill it. “What do people usually do on these… public dates? Hold hands? Lean in and laugh at each other’s jokes?”

Jace looked at me, his dark eyes steady. “We can start small. Just talk and make it look like we’re enjoying each other’s company.”

I took a sip of coffee, mostly to have something to do with my hands. “Okay. Talk about what? Hockey? Journalism? The weather?”

He smiled a little, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Hockey works. Or you can tell me about your classes. Whatever feels natural.”

“Nothing about this feels natural,” I said under my breath.

Jace leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice. “I know, but we have to sell it a little. People are looking.”

I glanced sideways. The girls at the next table were definitely watching now. I forced another smile and leaned in too, like we were sharing a secret. “This is ridiculous. I feel like I’m in a bad movie.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm. “Yeah, me too. But you’re doing great. That smile almost looked real.”

My cheeks heated. I looked down at my coffee. “Don’t get used to it. This is all fake, remember?”

“I remember,” he said quietly. His fingers tapped lightly on the side of his cup. “No feelings. Just public stuff.”

The words hung between us. For a second, neither of us spoke. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and it made my skin prickle in a way I didn’t like.

I cleared my throat. “So… tomorrow. You mentioned something about helping with interviews?”

Jace nodded, seeming relieved to have a safer topic. “Yeah. I can introduce you to some of the guys. Mike especially; he’s my roommate and assistant captain. He’s good with words. Might give you solid quotes for your article.”

“That would help,” I said, my voice softening a little despite myself. “My portfolio needs strong pieces and the scholarship board is strict.”

He watched me for a moment. “You really care about this, don’t you? The journalism thing.”

I shrugged, but my fingers tightened around my cup. “It’s my way out, my future. I can’t mess it up.”

We kept talking like that; careful, surface-level stuff mixed with small attempts at couple behavior. He reached across the table once and brushed a strand of hair from my face. His fingers lingered near my cheek for half a second longer than necessary. I froze, my breath caught.

“Sorry,” he murmured, pulling back. “Thought it would look good.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, my heart beating too fast. “It probably did.”

The conversation continued, awkward but slowly getting easier. We laughed at forced jokes. We leaned in when people walked by, but underneath it all, something else was building; a quiet tension I couldn’t ignore. Every time our eyes met for too long, every accidental touch, it felt a little too real.

As we finished our drinks, I checked the time on my phone. “I should go soon. I have to work on that hockey article tonight.”

Jace nodded, but he didn’t move to leave right away. “I could give you some real insights if you want. Off the record, of course.”

I looked at him, surprised by how genuine the offer sounded. For a moment, sitting there with him, the fake dating didn’t feel completely fake. That scared me more than anything.

I stood up quickly, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll think about it.”

As I turned to leave, Jace caught my hand for a brief second; just long enough for anyone watching to notice. His touch was warm and steady. My pulse jumped.

“See you soon,” he said softly.

I pulled my hand away and walked out of the café, my steps faster than normal. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the performance or from something else entirely.

This was supposed to be fake.

So why did it already feel like it was getting complicated?