Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 213

Chapter 73

ALLISON’S POV

+25 Points

I dash out of my room and straight into Katy’s, making a beeline for her desk to steal her perfume. Lucky for me, she’s not around because I’m definitely not being stingy with the sprays. A girl has to smell good for her date.

After practically drenching myself in it, I slip back into my room to finish my makeup. I’m in the middle of swiping on lipstick when the front door downstairs creaks open.

“Katy, are you back already?” I call, popping my head out of my room, only to freeze when I lock eyes with

Justin.

Panic hits instantly.

I rush down the hall toward him, forgetting for a second that I’m fully dressed and clearly ready to go out.” What are you doing here? What if Katy suddenly comes back?”

He doesn’t answer. Actually, he doesn’t seem to be listening at all.

His gaze drifts slowly from my waist up to my face, lingering there with a soft, almost shy warmth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers before holding out his hand for me. I place mine in it, and he gently twirls me

around once. “You’re gonna make people stare tonight.”

I try to hide my blush, but I’m pretty sure I’m glowing anyway, and I quickly look away. “I didn’t do much.”

Which is technically true… if not much includes spending the last two hours getting ready, redoing my makeup, trying every pair of heels I own, and debating ten different ways to style my hair. Yeah… that’s

exactly what it means.

“Do you-” My eyes widen as I remember he’s supposed to be waiting downstairs. “What if-”

He catches my wrist and pulls me closer. “Relax. Cooper’s with Katy, so she’s not just going to pop out of nowhere.”

I bob my head. “Fine… just don’t want our night ruined by any surprises.”

He leans in, a grin tugging at his lips. “I want to kiss you. Will that mess up your makeup?”

I nod slowly, feeling goosebumps prick my skin as he traces circles on my wrist with his finger.

“We should go now,” I whisper. “Let me grab my purse.”

He lets go of my hand and I head to my room for my purse. Inside, I squeal, thankfully, not loud enough for

him to hear.

“You know, I’m not supposed to be having cake.” I shove another bite of the lava cake into my mouth. “But

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a few calories can’t hurt.”

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The warm, gooey chocolate melts on my tongue and I close my eyes, savoring every second before opening them again. “Wait, what did you say this was called?”

“Dulce de Leche Lava Cake,” Justin replies, grabbing a slice of pizza from his plate.

“Dulce… what?” I ask, tilting my head over the soft hum of traditional Spanish music filling the background.

“Dulce de… Leche…”

“Just forget it,” I cut him off, shoveling another bite into my mouth. Then I shake my head. “How are you eating a whole pizza by yourself?”

“This isn’t just any pizza,” he says, grinning. “It’s prosciutto pizza. Made from Italian dry-cured ham, brought over by Italian immigrants in the 18th or 19th century.”

I love this man but seriously, he did not just hit me with a history lecture over a damn pizza.

“That’s a lot of history in your stomach,” I mutter.

He smirks, leaning back with his eyes locked on me. “You like this place?”

“I love it.” I glance around at people dancing in one corner, the music, the lights… the whole vibe. “I hate

those boring restaurants where it’s like, ‘Ma’am, our top chef prepared a complimentary dish for you,’ and it’s literally two grains of rice and a single leaf.”

He bursts out laughing, covering his mouth.

“What?” I sip my drink, rolling my eyes. “My mum loves those places. Ugh…”

“You mean…a bay leaf?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, trying not to laugh. “There’s the tiny portion, the leaf stuck on top like some umbrella

or a weird spot of sauce. And of course, they give it some fancy French name like La Roshe Le Blanc La James or something.”

He bursts out laughing again, clutching his stomach with tears forming at the corners of his eyes. I can’t

help but laugh along with him, trying to hide it behind my drink before sneaking a glance around to make sure we’re not bothering anyone.

When he finally stops, takes a deep breath, and wipes the tears from his face, he leans back. “Allison… I thought you were supposed to be posh.”

I roll my eyes. “I used to be posh… back before my mum tried turning me into some kind of doll. Worst part? She’d drag me to her fancy women’s club. They’d just sit around, talking about jewelry, stock investments while sipping tea. Fur coats were basically the uniform, and God forbid you showed up without one, you might as well have fallen off a cliff.” I sigh dramatically. “She’s never going to make me

into herself.”

He studies me for a few seconds, clearly intrigued. “Were there people your age there?”

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“Nope.” I scoop up another bite of cake. “Just me. Sitting there, bored out of my mind, listening to women prattle on about their first, second, and third husbands while I just… gawked.”

Silence hangs between us for a few seconds, and I catch Justin’s pitiful expression.

I lift a brow. “What?”

He props his elbows on the table, leaning in. “Have you… thought about what you actually want to do after

school?”

I shrug. “Yeah… work.”

“But what kind of work?”

I open my mouth to say office work and then stop. There’s this split second where I actually let myself picture auditions, sets, learning a character so deeply she becomes a second skin and then I shove the image back down where it belongs.

“Acting.” The word comes out smaller than I intend. “But that’s out the window.”

“WHY?”

“Because wanting something doesn’t pay for headshots or acting classes or the connections you need when you’re trying to break into an industry that already has too many pretty girls who want it just as badly. “I jab my fork into the cake. “My parents won’t support me and if I bet everything on myself and fail… I’ve got nothing. Go with my parents’ choice? They’ve got connections in major companies, and job hunting

would basically be a breeze.”

“But that’s not what you want to do,” he cuts in.

I stay quiet for a beat, then nod. “Exactly. I hate..hate how they set a table for me and just keep piling their

goals on it, like I’m supposed to eat it all without choking.”

His eyes narrow. “Then flip the table.”

“Huh?” I blink at him.

“Flip the table.” He repeats. “Toss every single one of their goals off it.”

I stare at him. “That’s easy to say.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy.” He responds. “I’m saying do it anyway.”

The music playing changes in the background to a slower song.

“And then what?” I ask.

“And then I’ll clean it up.” He reaches across the table. “That’s what I’m saying.”

My eyes remain on him. “What do you mean?”

He’s quiet for a second.

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“There’s something I should have told you a while ago.” He rubs the back of his neck like he usually does when something actually matters to him. “A scout has me on his radar.”

I put my fork down. My eyes widen, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He explains, grabbing my hand gently, his thumb brushing my skin. “His name’s Miller and he’s watching me closely. Coach has me on intensive training to make sure I don’t slip.”

I just gape at him for a moment, trying to wrap my head around it. If there’s anyone who deserves to go pro right out of college, it’s him. He’s poured his blood, sweat, and tears into this, and seeing it finally

happening is…amazing.

“Babe.” I whisper. “You’ve wanted this your whole life.”

“Yeah.” He agrees. “I have.”

I press my free hand to my chest. “Don’t you dare make me cry. I redid this mascara twice.”

He laughs and squeezes my hand. “I’ll work my ass off. So you can bet everything on your talent.”

I hold his gaze because the way he says things, like it’s already decided that my dream is just as real to him as his own, makes it hard to swallow.

“I’m so happy for you, J.” I finally say. “I’m so, so happy.”

“Then do everything you want.” He replies. “If you’re happy, bet everything.”

I’ve never had anyone tell me with such certainty they believe in me.

I nod. “I’ll do anything and everything.”

He grins, tightening his fingers around mine. We sit in silence for a moment, music filling the space between us, and I think I can stay in this exact second for a while.

“There’s one more thing.” Justin says. “Black’s agreed to back off.”

I nearly tip my drink over, leaning forward with wide eyes. “Wait… he did? How?”

Black hasn’t texted me in days, and I’ve been wondering what he was up to. He finally decided to give up? Shit… I’m so happy.

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