I Swear I’m Not Falling

CHAPTER 2: Date Me

~CASSIE

I stand in front of Liam’s door, fist raised. I’ve got six days left before I’m officially homeless, and this tutoring job is the only thing standing between me and that reality.

I knock sharply before I can change my mind.

The door swings open.

Liam leans against the doorframe, shirtless, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. Water droplets cling to his carved abs. The sight hits harder than I expected.

“Took you long enough,” he says, voice low and amused. A slow smile curves his mouth. “Come on in, Brooks.”

Heat explodes across my cheeks. “It’s Cassie. And for the love of God, put on a shirt.”

He glances down at himself, then back at me, one brow arching. “Why? You having trouble concentrating already?”

“I haven’t even walked through the door.”

“Mm. Sounds like a yes.”

I shoot him a flat look.

He chuckles. “Relax. I’m messing with you.” He grabs a T-shirt and pulls it over his head. “Didn’t realize you’d be so easily distracted. My bad.” He steps aside. “After you.”

I step inside the chaotic hockey house—leather couches, massive TV, and hockey gear dumped everywhere. My foot kicks a beer can across the hardwood.

I stop dead. “You’re drinking before a tutoring session?”

A guy with striking hazel eyes lounges on the couch, grinning. “My bad,” he says, cracking open another can and flinging the empty one towards a growing pyramid of cans. “Blake,” he says with a lazy salute. “You must be the tutor who’s gonna save our captain’s ass.”

I glance around the room. Hockey gear is scattered across the floor. Empty pizza boxes crowd the kitchen counter. Someone has left a pair of skates in the middle of the hallway.

Liam catches me looking. “Don’t judge. This place has seen better days.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good,” he shrugs. “Because it isn’t getting cleaned today.”

“I figured.”

He jerks his head toward the stairs. “Come on. My room’s upstairs.”

Great. Alone in the hockey captain’s bedroom.

As we head up, Blake calls after us, “Make him ace this s**t, Brooks! Or I’ll be very, very upset.” His gaze sweeps over me with cocky charm. “You don’t want that, do you, gorgeous?”

Liam glances back at me. “Save it, Blake. She’s immune to flirting. Trust me.”

I follow him. His bedroom is massive, hockey posters covering one wall—the exact same ones I’ve seen in Noah’s room. The reminder twists in my chest, but I shove it down.

I drop my bag. “I need to change out of my bar uniform.”

Liam flops onto the edge of his massive bed. “Bathroom’s through there.”

I narrow my eyes.

“What?” A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I learned a long time ago not to test my luck.”

“Hm.”

He gestures toward the bathroom. “Go on. I’ll survive five minutes without your company.”

I roll my eyes and head inside before he can say anything else.

The bathroom is surprisingly clean, woodsy aftershave lingering.

I change into a denim skirt and a blue oversized Manchester U hoodie, twist my hair into a messy ponytail, and head back out.

Liam’s on his phone. I dump the books on the desk.

“Developmental Psychology. Start with Erikson’s Identity vs. Role Confusion. Read it out loud, then summarize like you’re explaining it to a teammate.”

“Yeah—one sec.” He fires off a text, then drops the phone. “Sorry. I’m all yours now.”

He reads in that annoyingly smooth voice and nails the summary, even tying it to team captain pressure.

I blink. “Do you have a photographic memory or something?”

“Nah. Just good with facts.” He shrugs, self-deprecating. “It’s applying them to real emotional s**t that wrecks me. Life’s messier than textbooks.”

My lips twitch. “Fair point.”

We move through Piaget and attachment theory. He’s scary quick—until his phone starts blowing up again.

“Oh my God.” I snatch it before he can react. “Am I going to have to duct-tape this thing to the wall?”

“Sorry.” He laughs. “Silent mode.”

It lights up anyway. More texts from a girl clearly trying to hook up. I scan his replies—he really is trying to shut her down.

I hand the phone back.

“You’ve got admirers.”

“Occupational hazard,” he says with a shrug, setting the phone face down.

At one point he tosses his pen down. “You know,” he says, eyeing me, “you’re a lot grumpier than I expected.”

I look up.

“I mean, anyone willing to sneak around with Noah Carter?” He smirks. “I figured you’d be… nicer.”

Everything inside me goes ice-cold. I force my face blank even as my stomach drops.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liam leans forward. “I saw you leaving Noah’s place months ago. You weren’t exactly subtle.” His voice softens a fraction. “Look, I’m not trying to be a d**k. Just… you don’t seem like his usual groupies.”

The NDA feels like a chokehold. I shove my notes into my bag. “I’m done here. Keep your money. Find yourself another tutor.”

“Wait!” He jumps up and blocks the doorway, panic flashing across his face for the first time. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was way out of line.”

I try to push past. He doesn’t budge.

“Please. I’m legitimately failing. Coach is about to bench me for the rest of the season. Hockey is… it’s everything. I can’t lose it.” His voice drops, almost pleading. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Anything.

The word crackles in the air between us. My gaze flicks—traitorously—over his broad shoulders, the way his t-shirt clings, the sharp V-line still visible beneath the hem. Stop it, Cassie.

Liam Carter. Campus king. The guy every girl would kill to be claimed by. Picky as hell, but when he chooses someone, it’s instant status. And right now he’s standing here, offering anything.

He’s Noah’s half-brother.

Perfect revenge.

I hate that I even think about it. I hate him almost as much as I hate Noah.

I meet his eyes. “You’d really do anything?”

He nods, uncertainty flickering. “Yeah.”

“Here’s the deal,” I say, voice steadier than my heartbeat. “I’ll tutor you until you get an A. In return, you use that golden-boy reputation of yours to pursue me. Publicly. The whole campus sees us together. Fake boyfriend. Convincing as hell.”

Liam stares at me like I’ve sprouted horns. “You want me to pretend to date you?”

“Exactly.”

He scoffs. “Hard pass, Brooks. Fake or real, dating isn’t my thing.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and move toward the door.

“Then I guess you don’t need hockey either.”

“Cassie.” His voice is lower now, rougher. Defeated.

I pause, throat tight. “Midterms are in four weeks. They’re worth a massive chunk of your grade. You need me. I need this arrangement. Win-win.”

“He drags a hand down his face. “There has to be something else you want. I mean…” That signature smirk returns. “I didn’t peg you for one of my fangirls.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you, Carter.”

“Really?” He raises a brow. “So why me? Aren’t you still with Noah?”

The name stings, bringing back the humiliation of crying through my shift at the bar just hours ago, pretending I was fine every time a customer smiled at me. I force my expression to stay blank.

“Since you already know about us… we broke up.”

“So what?” His brow furrows. “You’re using me as a rebound?”

“It was a secret relationship,” I admit. “He made me sign an NDA so I can’t talk about it. So do me a favor and keep your mouth shut, okay? Unless you want me bankrupt because I can’t afford the penalty.”

“That son of a b***h!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I mutter, even though it isn’t.

I turn toward the door again, pretending to walk away.

“Wait.”

I pause, hiding the small victorious smile threatening to break across my face before turning back.

He runs a hand through his messy hair, clearly at war with himself. “You’ll actually get me to an A?”

“I will. But only if you sell the boyfriend act. Especially to Noah.”

“That’s gonna be a hard sell with my reputation.”

“Do you or do you not want to graduate?” I ask, folding my arms.

He glares at me. “You’re so f*****g annoying.”

“So… do we have a deal?”

The silence stretches between us.

Finally, he blows out a long breath.

“…Fine.”

I wait.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We’ve got a deal.”