Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 148

ALLISON’S POV

The human skull isn’t as durable as people think and I learned that somewhere in freshman year.

I can’t help but wonder… how fragile is Justin’s skull? And hers, the girl he’s pressed against in the corner, with lips tangled together like spaghetti.

As Sean leads me past the flood of bodies dancing and laughing at Zach’s party, my chest tightens with feelings I can’t admit. Why do I care that Justin is with someone else? Why? I’m here with my boyfriend, so morally, I have no right to feel this way. Or have I really lost my mind?

He hasn’t even given me the slightest indication he’s interested and yet here I am, seething that he’s kissing someone else. Pathetic.

Just as we reach the top of the staircase, I grab Sean into a room, pressing him against the wall. My lips find his, and all the anger I’ve been holding: anger at Justin, at myself, at the stupid feelings I can’t control, pours into the kiss.

It’s hot, and I’m desperate to erase what I just saw or felt downstairs. I want to bury myself in the taste of him, the warmth of his touch, to feel something strong enough to snap me out of this mess. My hands clutch at him, my lips searching, and trying to lose myself.

But the longer I try, the clearer it becomes that I can’t,

Slowly, I pull back, letting my lips hover over his for a brief moment before finally separating, my chest heaving. Sean leans in, expecting more, but I plant a firm hand on his chest, forcing a pause.

“Let’s go hang out with others,” I murmur.

He studies my face, his brows furrowed, and then slowly nods. “Sure… but we’ve got to find them first.”

“Text Josh and ask where he is.”

Sean pulls out his phone and starts typing while I fuss with my hair, tugging at strands like I can untangle the mess in my brain. The room we’re in is a disaster with empty snack wrappers, and scattered beer cans everywhere.

In the mirror, my eyes keep drifting to the jacket. I should take it off, right? I should just march up to him, shove the jacket against his chest, and tell him to piss off. But why should I? Wouldn’t that make me look stupid?

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