The Boy Who Checked Me First

Chapter 7: First Fake Date - Team Dinner

Fake dating Cole Maddox comes with a dress code.

"Wear something not... hockey," he said, standing in our kitchen doorway at 6 p.m., looking at me like I was a math problem.

I looked down at my outfit. Leggings and his oversized Wolverines hoodie that I stole from the laundry because mine was still wet. My hair in a messy bun. My ribs still taped under my shirt.

"What's wrong with hockey?" I asked.

"You've been in hockey clothes for 72 hours straight. It's a team dinner. At an actual restaurant. With actual people who will take actual photos for actual gossip pages. Wear something that says 'girlfriend,' not 'lost ball boy.'"

"Wow. So romantic. Did you practice that line in the mirror, Captain?"

He ignored me, opened the fridge, and stared at his chicken and rice like it had offended him.

"Just... wear a dress or something. Please."

I stared at his back. The back that had held my foot in an ice bath. The back that belonged to my fake boyfriend as of 9 a.m. this morning.

"Are you asking me to dress up for you, Maddox?"

He turned, ears red. "I'm asking my fake girlfriend not to wear my clothes to our first fake date. House Rule Number 10."

"There is no House Rule Number 10."

"There is now."

I went to my tiny room and slammed the door, but I was smiling.

I owned one dress at college. One. Black, simple, strappy, the kind you can wear to a funeral or a date and it works for both. I bought it for my cousin's wedding two years ago. I had never worn it for a boy.

I put it on. My bruise was still purple-black and ugly, but the dress covered most of it. I left my hair down for once - long, black, wavy from being in a braid all week. A little lip gloss I borrowed from Lena.

When I came out, Cole was waiting by the door in a clean black henley and jeans. His hair was actually combed. He had shaved.

He looked up.

And stopped talking mid-sentence on his phone.

"Yeah, Coach, we're -" He stared at me. "We're leaving now. Yeah. Okay. Bye."

He hung up.

Silence in our tiny kitchen.

"You..." He cleared his throat. "You look..."

"Like a ball boy?" I offered.

"Like a girl," he said quietly. Then, like he realized how that sounded: "I mean - you always look like a girl, obviously, you're a girl, I just meant you look... not hockey. You look good, Chen."

Good. Not pretty. Good. From Cole Maddox, that was basically a marriage proposal.

"You clean up okay too, Captain," I said, trying not to blush.

He grabbed his truck keys. "Let's go before I change my mind and make you wear my jersey over it so no one else looks at you."

The team dinner was at Antonio's, the Italian place that gives Whitmore athletes free garlic bread because Coach Jensen is friends with the owner. The whole team was there - 23 boys in various states of trying to look nice. Park had gel in his hair for the first time in his life. Eriksson wore a shirt with actual buttons.

When we walked in, hand in hand - because fake dating - every head turned.

"AWWW s**t," Park yelled, then clapped his hands over his mouth when Coach glared.

Eriksson stood up. "Our captain and his princess have arrived!"

Cole squeezed my hand tighter. "Behave," he whispered to me, but he was talking to them.

"Girlfriend," he announced, loud enough for the whole restaurant. "My girlfriend. Who I am dating. For real."

I kicked his shin under the table.

We sat - of course - next to each other in a booth. Which meant we were squished. Which meant his thigh pressed against mine and his arm ended up on the back of my chair.

Antonio himself came out. "Cole! And this must be the famous Aria! On the house for you two, eh? The couple!"

"We're not -" I started.

"Thanks, Antonio," Cole cut in smoothly. "She loves the chicken parm."

I do not love chicken parm. I am allergic to parmesan. But I smiled.

The food came. Giant plates of pasta, chicken, bread. My favorite. Except there was one problem.

My ribs.

Maria had re-taped them this afternoon and said "Don't lift your left arm over 90 degrees, Aria. I'm serious. You'll tear the muscle."

Cutting chicken parm requires two hands and lifting. Lifting requires abs. Abs require ribs that don't feel like they're being stabbed.

I tried with my right hand only. The chicken slid away.

Tried again. Fork slipped.

Cole watched me struggle for ten seconds, then sighed like I was a very difficult child.

"Chen."

"I'm fine. I'm just... not hungry."

"You're lying again. Ears red."

He picked up his own knife and fork, cut his chicken parm into perfect bite-sized pieces, then pushed my plate toward him and did the same to mine. Fast, efficient, like he was taping a stick.

Then he stabbed a piece with his fork and held it up to my mouth.

The entire table went silent.

"Cole," I whispered, horrified. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding my girlfriend because she can't lift her arm," he whispered back, low, so only I could hear. "Open your mouth, Chen. Don't make this weird."

"You making it weird!"

"Open."

I opened my mouth. Because everyone was staring. Because his eyes were locked on mine daring me to say no.

The chicken was actually really good.

"Good girl," he murmured, so quiet only I heard it. And my whole face went nuclear red.

Eriksson made a choking noise. "DID HE JUST -"

Park was already recording. "This is going on the team t****k. This is going viral. Captain Feeds Rookie -"

"Delete it," Cole said without looking away from me, holding up another bite. "And if you post it, you're running suicides till you puke."

Park deleted it.

But Antonio didn't. Antonio took a photo from the kitchen - me in a black dress, Cole in a henley, feeding me pasta in a booth full of hockey boys - and posted it to Antonio's i********: with the caption:

Whitmore Hockey's power couple! First date at Antonio's! On the house for love! ❤️🏒

Within five minutes, @WhitmoreGossip reposted it.

UPDATE:

From ice bath to feeding each other pasta? Captain Maddox just fed his girl at team dinner. The fake dating rumors are looking REAL fake. #WifedUp #CaptainAndPuckPrincess

Comments exploded again.

whitmorepuckbunny69: she can't even feed herself now?? girl get a grip

maddoxisdaddy: HE CUT HER FOOD FOR HER IM SICK THIS IS LOVE

jakewolverines: my captain is whipped

I put my phone face down.

Cole saw the comment from the puck bunny account. His jaw tightened.

"Don't read them," he said, cutting more pasta for me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"How can I not? They think I'm using you."

"Let them think what they want," he said, feeding me another bite, his thumb brushing my lower lip for half a second too long to be fake. "You're my girlfriend tonight. That means I feed you, I drive you home, and I beat up anyone who says anything about you in comments. House Rule Number 11."

"You're just making up rules now."

"And you're letting me feed you, so who's really winning?"

We finished dinner. Coach paid, gave us both a look that said "You better make this look worth it" and left.

Outside Antonio's, Boston was cold. October cold that bites. I had no jacket - just my dress.

Cole took off his henley - he had a white tee underneath, thank god, because I would have actually passed out if he went shirtless in the street - and draped it over my shoulders. It smelled like him. Cold and clean.

"My truck's this way," he said, his hand finding mine again. Interlaced. Real.

We walked to his truck, fake couple, real hand-holding, real henley around my shoulders, real team behind us wolf-whistling from the restaurant window.

In the truck, heater on, he didn't start it right away. He just sat, hands on the wheel, looking at me in his henley that was too big.

"You did good tonight," he said quietly.

"So did you. For a fake boyfriend, you're weirdly good at... all this."

"What, feeding you?"

"Being... like that. In public. Touchy."

He was quiet for a long second, watching the rain start on his windshield.

"Who said it was fake?"

My heart stopped.

"What?"

He turned to look at me. Grey eyes dark in the truck light.

"Tonight. At dinner. When I fed you. That didn't feel fake to me, Chen."

The air in the truck got very small and very hot.

"Cole..."

"I'm not asking you to - I'm just saying. If we're going to do this fake thing for the press, we should probably... talk about what happens if it stops feeling fake."

He leaned closer. Just a little. Enough that I could see the freckle under his left eye I never noticed before.

My phone buzzed. Loud in the quiet truck.

Then his phone buzzed. Then both buzzed at the same time, over and over.

@WhitmoreGossip new post.

We both looked down.

It wasn't our dinner photo.

It was a photo of a man in a suit walking into the athletic building. Older, stern, Asian, wearing a Whitmore Hockey alumni jacket.

Caption:

BREAKING: Aria Chen's father - former Wolverine legend David Chen - spotted on campus. Sources say he's here to PULL her from the men's team after the ice bath scandal. Family drama incoming? 👀

My blood went cold.

"Oh no," I whispered. "No no no, he can't be here, he said he'd never come -"

Cole's hand was instantly on my knee, squeezing.

"Aria. Hey. Look at me."

I couldn't breathe. My dad. On campus. After I told him I could handle it. After the viral photos.

Cole started the truck.

"Where are we going?" I asked, voice shaking.

"Back to our apartment. Where you belong. And if your dad wants to pull you from my team - our team - he's going to have to go through me first."

He put the truck in drive, his other hand still holding mine, and drove us home through the rain - fake boyfriend, real boyfriend, I didn't even know anymore.