Falling: A Fake Dating College Hockey Romance (North University Book 1)

MILES

There’s nothing like the atmosphere in the locker room before a big game.

The anticipation of the upcoming game mingles with the nerves churning in my stomach. Lacing up my skates, I run through the mental checklist of everything that needs to fall into place for tonight’s match against Carlton. It’s not just about winning the championship; it’s about proving myself on the ice, especially with my parents in the stands for the first time in what feels like ages.

Coach paces back and forth, delivering a fiery pep talk to the team. I listen intently, my focus sharpening with each word.

But there’s a knot of nerves coiled tightly in my stomach. This is the first time my parents will see me play in a while, and the pressure to perform weighs heavily on me. I check my phone, making sure everyone has a ride to the game. Away games always come with their own set of logistical challenges. I want to make sure everyone is coming tonight, and the thought of looking into the crowd and not recognizing anyone hurts. I excuse myself from the locker room, walking down the hallway before Coach tells me not to.

I call Wren, and she picks up immediately. “Hey, Miles.” Wren’s voice comes through, warm and comforting. “Shouldn’t you be ripping each other’s shirts off or doing whatever pre-game ritual you guys do?”

“We don’t do anything like that,” I reply, “but if you want me to take my shirt off, that’s all you have to say.”

“Pass.” Just hearing her voice is enough comfort for now, and it slowly helps settle the nerves that are running through me. As if she can read my thoughts, she says, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, baby. You’re going to do great.”

“I know,” I sigh. “Are you and the girls on your way yet?”

“Yeah, we just got here. We’re grabbing some food and then going to our seats. We’ll be right by the boards, don’t worry.”

“And my parents?”

“Clara said they’re already here. I think they came before the arena even opened because they didn’t want to miss the game,” Wren says, laughing softly. That helps me let out a genuine breath of relief. “Hey, stop worrying. Your parents are excited, and surprisingly, so am I. You guys are going to kill it.”

Her unwavering faith in me fills me with determination. I need to get my head in the game within these last few minutes before we make our way to the ice. Tonight, I’m not just playing for the championship; I’m playing for my team, for my family, for Wren, and for Carter.

WREN

The game is about to start, and I can feel the anticipation thrumming through my veins. I glance around at the faces of Miles’s parents and his sister Clara, all here to support him. My friends are here too, their excitement contagious as we wait for the puck to drop.

The first period begins, and I watch as Miles takes to the ice with his team. The game is intense right from the start, both teams moving with speed and precision. Carlton is known for their aggressive play, but our team matches them stride for stride. The puck moves back and forth, a blur of motion as players weave through defenders and make sharp passes.

Miles’s mom leans over, her face tight with nerves. “He’s doing well, isn’t he?” she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

“He’s doing great,” I reassure her, squeezing her hand. “Miles is one of the best players out there. He’s got this.”

Clara nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, Mom, he’s fine. He’s been training for this his whole life.”

Miles’s dad, on the other side of Clara, smiles confidently. “They’ll be fine. Our boy knows how to handle the pressure.”

The first period ends with no goals, but our team has held their ground. The defense is solid, and Miles is skating like he’s got wings, blocking shots and making crucial passes. The tension in the arena is palpable as the second period begins.

The puck drops, and the game resumes with even more intensity. Carlton’s offense is relentless, but Miles and his teammates are a well-oiled machine. They anticipate each move, countering attacks with swift, precise plays. I watch as Miles executes a perfect breakaway, skating past two defenders before taking a shot on goal. The puck flies past the goalie and into the net, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

Kennedy and Scarlett are in the row behind me, and they’ve been quiet the entire time. Kennedy has had her eyes on Harry in the goal the whole time, and though Scarlett acts like she hates it, I know she’s just as entranced as I am as we watch them zip up and down the ice.

“You’re really enjoying this, huh?” Scarlett asks, leaning forward to tug on my ponytail.

I turn back around to her for a second, not wanting to miss anything even though Miles isn’t on the ice right now. “Dude, this is intense. I’m genuinely having a good time.”

They both laugh behind me, but I don’t have the time to even speak with them. The minutes go by quickly in every period, and I can’t take my eyes off the ice for longer than a few seconds.

As the second period continues, our team maintains its momentum. Miles is everywhere, intercepting passes, setting up plays, and maintaining a strong defensive presence. Carlton scores once, but our team quickly answers with another goal, keeping the lead.

During a brief pause, Clara leans over to me. “He’s really in the zone tonight. I’ve never seen him play like this.”

“He’s definitely on fire,” I reply, watching Miles skate to the bench for a quick breather. “I think knowing you all are here is giving him an extra boost.”

Miles’s dad chuckles. “He’s always been a clutch player. When the pressure’s on, that’s when he shines the brightest.”

The second period ends with our team up by one goal. I decide to stretch my legs and head to the concession stand for a drink. The girls have been making small talk with Miles’s family, and I feel like I need a breather. The atmosphere is intense, and I want them to win so fucking badly.

As I make my way through the crowded concourse, I catch sight of two familiar faces: Darcy, and my mom. I thought my mom would be here, being head of the sports department, but Darcy being here is a shock. I always thought they were friends of sorts, but where my coach is sweet and supportive, my mom is the opposite.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her since the blowup at her house, and part of me wants to walk straight past her. She’s not even visited her daughter who just gave birth. Austin and Zion finally landed on a name for their baby boy, and Marley fits him so well. I’ve cried nearly every time I’ve held him and I think I’m just going to have to get used to the fact that I might be one of those people that cry a lot now.

My mom catches me walking by and calls out to me. I almost ignored her, but the Band-Aid needs to be ripped off immediately.

“Amelia, wait,” she says, her voice carrying over the noise of the crowd.

I stop, my heart pounding in my chest. Darcy looks between us, sensing the tension. “I’ll give you two some space,” she says, squeezing my shoulder before walking away.

I turn to face my mom, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on me. Her eyes are softer than I’ve seen in a long time, but I don’t let myself be fooled. “What do you want, Mom?” I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. All the messages exchanged between us over the last few weeks have just been pleas to talk—like everything can be solved through a simple conversation. One where she’d try to make me feel small.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” she begins, her tone cautious. “It’s been weeks, Amelia. You’ve been avoiding me when you know we need to talk.”

“I’m fine,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m here to watch Miles play. That’s all.”

“Is it really?” she asks, stepping closer. “Because I know you’re still holding a grudge against me for what happened. I know I hurt you, but we need to move past this. You’re my daughter, and I love you.”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check.

Love, not admire.

I can’t remember the last time she said those words to me. We were never the emotional, tell-each-other-I-love-you-everyday type of family, and that was fine. I learned to deal with it, but it wouldn’t have hurt to hear those words every once in a while.

“Do you? Because it hasn’t felt like love, Mom. It feels like control. Like manipulation. I can’t keep living like that.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “No, listen to me. I’m not here to rehash old arguments. I want to make something clear. I love skating, but I need to do it for myself. Not for you, not for anyone else. Just for me.”

“Wren, I was only trying to help you be the best—” she starts, but I shake my head.

“Being the best at skating doesn’t mean anything if I’m miserable,” I say, my voice gaining strength. “I want to enjoy my life. I want to be with Miles without you telling me he doesn’t care about me or that I’m not good enough to make him stay. I need boundaries, Mom. If you can’t respect that, then I don’t know how we can have a relationship.”

Her face crumples slightly, and for a moment, I see a flicker of vulnerability. “I just want what’s best for you,” she whispers.

“Then trust me to know what’s best for myself,” I reply. “I have to go. The game’s about to start again.”

Without waiting for her response, I turn and walk back to my seat, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. It’s not easy standing up to her, but it’s necessary. I can’t keep doing everything on her terms. Not when this is my life.

The third period begins, and the intensity on the ice ramps up. The players are moving faster, hitting harder. Carlton’s team seems desperate to even the score, and they’re not above playing dirty. I watch as one of their players trips Grayson, our defenseman, sending him sprawling to the ice. The referee’s whistle blows, and the crowd boos as a penalty is called.

Miles is right in the thick of it, his focus unbreakable. He takes control of the puck, weaving through Carlton’s players with a skill that takes my breath away. The crowd is on its feet, the tension almost unbearable. I can see the determination in his every move, the fire in his eyes as he skates down the rink.

Another penalty is called, this time on Carlton for slashing. It’s a power play for our team, and the energy in the arena is electric. Miles’s dad leans over to me, grinning. “This is it. They’ve got the advantage now.”

I nod, unable to take my eyes off the ice. Miles is coordinating the play, passing the puck with precision, setting up the perfect shot. And then it happens—a beautiful slap shot that sends the puck sailing into the net. The crowd erupts, and I find myself jumping up, screaming in excitement.

The final minutes of the game are a blur of motion and noise. Carlton tries to rally, but our defense holds strong. Miles is everywhere, blocking shots, making passes, and leading his team with a fierce determination. When the final buzzer sounds, signaling our victory, the arena explodes in celebration.

Miles’s family and I hug, caught up in the joy of the moment. As I look down at the ice, I see Miles looking up at us, a triumphant smile on his face. Our eyes meet, and I can see everything we’ve been through reflected in his gaze.

The announcer’s voice booms over the PA system, calling everyone’s attention to the center of the ice for the awards ceremony. The players form a circle, and a small stage is set up. Conference officials and sponsors make their way onto the ice, holding the gleaming championship trophy.

Seeing the trophy, I feel an overwhelming urge to be closer to Miles, to share this moment with him. I start making my way down from the stands, his family and Scarlett and Kennedy behind me as my heart pounds with excitement. We maneuver through the crowd, pushing past people who are just as eager to celebrate.

As we reach the edge of the rink, I see Miles standing proudly at the front as the team captain, his eyes shining with pride. God, he’s never looked more attractive. The official steps forward, ready to hand him the trophy, but Miles’s gaze locks onto mine. He doesn’t hesitate. Instead of reaching for the trophy, he breaks away from the team and skates directly toward me.

My heart races as he gets closer. The next thing I know, he’s lifting me off my feet and spinning me around, his arms wrapped around me tight. I’m wearing his jersey, and I’ve never felt prouder to sport the school’s colors.

“You did it!” I exclaim, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“We did it,” he says, his voice filled with joy and emotion. “I couldn’t have done it without you, princess, seriously.”

Our eyes meet, and everything else fades away. The noise, the crowd, the flashing cameras—none of it matters. It’s just us.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I whisper, my voice choked with emotion.

Miles’s eyes glisten as he pulls me even closer. “Thank you for being here,” he says, his voice trembling slightly. “Thank you for everything.”

“I’ll always be here,” I reply, my heart swelling with love and pride. “Always.”

We pull apart just enough to look into each other’s eyes, but neither of us lets go. The moment is perfect, and I can feel the depth of his love and gratitude in his embrace.

“Go get your trophy, hotshot,” I say with a smile.

He grins and gives me one last kiss before skating back to his team. The official hands him the trophy, and the team erupts in cheers once again. Miles lifts it high above his head, his face beaming with pride. The team gathers for the official photos, posing with the trophy, their smiles wide and genuine.

The team takes a victory lap around the rink, holding the trophy high for the fans to see. The arena is a sea of cheers and applause, and I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with pride and love for Miles and everything he’s accomplished. He deserves this and so much more. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for him because I have a strong feeling it won’t be long before he’ll be playing in the pros.