Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 146

ALLISON’S POV

“I don’t stand a chance,” I explain to Jessica, stacking a few returned rare books on my arm. ” That Blackrock grant? It’s for people like my best friend. She’s got the brains for this kind of thing.”

She leans back, her elbows on the table, and tilts her head. “Still… you should try,” she says, then shrugs, like she’s giving up on convincing me. “You never know, you might win.”

I scoff. “An elephant will fly before that happens. I’ll just root for Katy.”

Instead of responding, Jessica suddenly sits up, tucking her hair behind her ears, and I notice her cheeks have gone pink. I pause. What’s gotten into her?

I follow her gaze and nearly drop the books.

“Hi, Justin.” Jessica’s high pitched voice comes from behind me.

He lifts his hand in an awkward wave to her, still standing like a statue, and his gaze scanning me from head to toe. He’s wearing a white shirt with a black-and-white striped vest and black jeans. Normally, this would scream nerd or office rat but with him… with him, he looks like he just stepped out of a damn magazine.

Or maybe I’ve completely lost my mind.

I almost bite my tongue to chase away all the thoughts racing through my head.

“Do you want to use the archaeology room?” Jessica asks him, and I blink. “I can take you.”

I make the mistake of looking at her, and all her intentions are written across her forehead. A sick feeling settles in my stomach as unwelcome, graphic images flood my mind, making me wonder if they’ve already… you know. After all, he’s still a jock.

“I’m here to see Allison,” he says, pulling my attention back and he cocks an eyebrow at me.” Busy?”

I swallow, forcing my thoughts to quiet down, and shake my head. “I’m… arranging these books. Wanna join me?”

He immediately follows me as I move toward the shelves and with every step, my pulse spikes and I have no idea why. The guy I’ve known for two years like a brother is suddenly… not like a brother. My brain is screaming, Do not think about this. Do not think about this. Do not think about this. And yet, here I am, thinking about it. Should I see a therapist? Or maybe a priest? Or both?

“Help me hold these.” I dump the books into his hands, and he catches them effortlessly. ” Sorry.”

He just nods and falls into step beside me as I arrange the books, and for a few minutes, we do it in silence. I know I texted him last night… but shouldn’t he ask what it’s about? Isn’t that literally why he’s here?

I clear my throat and lift a book from the pile in his hands. “Why are you here?”

He gives me a look like I just farted with my mouth. “Do I really have to answer that?”

Why does he have to be a brick wall all the time?

“I know the text said I had something to tell you today,” I explain and his eyes narrow. “I expected to talk later, not now. You came early.”

“Have practice later,” he replies.

I lean in to glare into his eyes, but he quickly steps back.

I frown. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“What you just did.” I grab another book from the pile. “I mean, we’ve known each other for years, but you still avoid my gaze and step away when I come close.”

“I hate…” He hesitates. “Close proximity.”

Close proximity. The memory of him trapping me in the elevator flashes through my mind, and goosebumps race up my arms. I glare at him. What was that then, if he hates close proximity? He was practically breathing on me and I could’ve hidden in his armpit if I’d wanted to.

“That’s a lame excuse,” I tell him, then gasp. “Do you avoid me because I smell?”

“No, you don’t, Allison.”

I roll my eyes. “Thank you so much for clarifying.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Why am I here, Allison?”

One look at him tells me he’s already halfway out the door, his patience worn thin. Can he really not stand me or something?

“I wanted to ask you to train me,” I say finally. “To fight.”

That gets a reaction out of him but it’s not a good one. His lips curve, disappointment barely concealed on his face. What else was he expecting?

“You texted me for that?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I finish stacking the books and he shoves his hands into his pockets, posture closing off. “I saw you fight that night and figured you’d be the best person to teach me how to defend myself.”

I lied. I don’t know why I texted him and honestly, I didn’t think he’d actually come until he showed up.

I brace myself for rejection, for him to tell me I’m wasting his time. Instead… he smirks.

“That’s a lame excuse,” he says. “You just wanted to see me, right?”

Wait. Justin Evans… is joking with me? Playing along with me? That’s a first.

I can’t help it and smile. “Yes.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he quickly masks it.

“Shocked?” I scoff. “I say whatever comes to my mind, especially the truth. I don’t care how it sounds.”

It’s my turn to be shocked when he says, “I know.”

“Ho… how do you know that?” I stammer, my heart skipping a beat.

He runs a hand through his short black hair, calm as ever. “I don’t really have friends, so I tend to pay attention to the few I do.”

I’m his friend? He definitely doesn’t act like it… or maybe he’s just been acting up lately, driving me completely crazy.

“Whatever, I mutter, picking at the edge of a book.

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