Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 212

Aaron ends up driving me home. Once I get out, heels dangling from my fingers, barefoot on the pavement and feeling zero shame about it, I glance back to see him still in the driver’s seat. Not moving. Not even pretending to. I raise a brow.

“What are you waiting for? A divine intervention?”

He blinks at me like he’s stuck buffering. Hands loose on the steering wheel, but his shoulders stiff like he doesn’t know what the next step is. I sigh, dramatic enough to jolt him out of whatever trance he’s in.

“I promise, I’m not stealing your innocence or something. You can just come get something to drink. Or we can hang out for a bit.”

Like wildfire, his whole face turns crimson. It rushes up his neck, settles under those sharp green eyes of his, and he looks away fast, like he doesn’t trust himself to look/straight at me. It’s so unexpectedly endearing, my chest actually flutters. I realize it’s only the second time I’ve seen him like this – bashful, flustered, the calm and controlled Aaron completely dismantled.

He finally gets out, awkwardly shutting the door, and walks toward me. The streetlight hits his jawline just right, highlighting the faint stubble there, and I have to bite back a smile. He’s handsome in this quiet, unassuming way none of the cocky, performative energy most guys radiate Just Aaron, sturdy and understated. And it makes me want to push at his edges just to see how far he’ll go.

–

The redness still lingers under his eyes, making him look like he’s fresh off a secret crush confession, and God, it takes everything in me not to tease him. Not yet.

“Or do you have to pick up your niece from Owen’s? You said you took her there, right?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Yeah.” His voice is low, a little rough, like speaking costs him more than it should. “My sister’s there too. It’s Kenzie’s dad’s week, so he’ll pick them up either way.”

Right. Aaron mentioned that in one of his letters – that his sister was divorced. I nod, about to slip my hand around his arm to tug him toward my building, when something catches my eye.

Dangling from his Jeep’s driver–side window is the last thing I ever expected: a tiny Hello Kitty keychain, pink bow and all. My mouth literally drops.

I’m so stunned I forget to breathe. Aaron notices, follows my stare, and exhales like this has been waiting to happen. “My niece gave it to me. Cute, isn’t it?”

His voice is dry enough to sand wood, but the faint twitch in his mouth tells me he’s bracing for mockery.

“Yeah.” I murmur, smiling despite myself. It’s ridiculous and charming all at once this big, broad–shouldered guy with a pastel cartoon trinket dangling off his car. Somehow it makes him even more attractive. Like he’s untouchable in every way except the ones that matter

As I lead him up to my apartment, I sneak a quick glance at my phone, opening my past chats with Theo. Huh. Guess it’s a trend with little girls – Theo’s niece gave him the exact same keychain last month. Figures.

“Make yourself at home,” I say, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it on the couch, throwing my shoes halfway across the room. He doesn’t move. Just stands there like he’s afraid stepping into my apartment is going to trigger some kind of alarm.

I head for the kitchen, washing my hands, and remember to glance back. “Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Wine?” I tug open the fridge. “There’s juice and beer too.”

Silence. Suspiciously long silence.

“I’m fine with anything,” he finally says, voice careful, like he’s trying not to say the wrong thing.

“Perfect.” I pull out a bottle of wine I’d been saving for a ‘special occasion.‘ Mostly because Emilia’s been militant about her alcohol ban, and I’d promised to behave… but tonight feels special enough. I shoot Em a quick text don’t come home tonight. Not that she needs the reminder. If she’s audacious enough to be at Owen’s, she’s not coming back here.

―

I consider snacks, but everything in the cupboard has Emilia’s fingerprints on it – health bars, trail mix, those miserable chocolates she swears are “good for you.” I click my tongue, abandon the idea, and grab two glasses.

When I return, Aaron’s still in the exact same spot, stiff as a statue, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to sit or breathe. His eyes flick over my living room work reports stacked on the coffee table, throw blanket sliding off the armrest/– and then back to me. His ears go red again when I catch him looking.

I set the glasses down with a little flourish like I’m auditioning for bartender of the year. “Relax, Aaron. I don’t bite. And I’m not the type with rules about coasters or where your shoes go. I meant it – you can actually make yourself at home.”

His mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “It’s not that. I was just… noticing the place looks different.”

I glance around, suddenly hyper–aware of the fact he’s right. “Yeah, well. My apartment usually mirrors my brain. Last time you saw it, my brain was an absolute landfill. Sorry about that — mortifying doesn’t even cover it.”

—

“OCD?” I tease.

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