POV’s Philip
I immediately took my hockey equipment into the garage, going through my ritual of throwing my liners in the wash and hanging my padding to air out. When I walked back upstairs and into the kitchen, I found Ethan sitting at the counter, his head in his hands.
“Hey,” I said, taking my water bottle to the sink.
Ethan said nothing as I washed it, setting it out to dry.
I turned towards him, concern filling my mind. He looked… really f*****g pissed. “What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning on the counter.
Ethan’s icy blue eyes snapped up to look at me, his hands coming down from his face. “Are you f*****g joking right now?”
I stepped back. Oh, s**t. Somehow, I’d forgotten that I’d have to deal with the consequences of my choice of fake girlfriend. And the fact that I needed to perf
