Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 56

KATY’S POV

They say the body never lies. You can fake love, fake indifference, fake a smile but not the way your skin reacts when someone touches you. I guess I’m living proof of that.

Because last night, I had my first orgasm with a guy I swore I wasn’t attracted to. A guy I never pictured my body melting for. A guy I’ve spent way too long convincing myself doesn’t affect me.

Turns out, I’ve been lying through my teeth.

Because somewhere between hating his smirk and craving his touch, I fell for Braydon Cooper.

Maybe just a little.

Or maybe way more than I’m ready to admit.

A groan slips out before I can stop it, low and miserable, as I lie flat on my back. My brain replays last night like a bad movie on loop, making my stomach twist. I grab a pillow and slam it over my face, screaming into it until my lungs burn.

Then I jolt up, heart pounding, and eyes darting around my room like I’ve just woken from a nightmare-which, in a way, I have.

Do I really have to go to class today?

Do I really have to see him?

God. The thought alone makes me shiver.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not delusional enough to pretend last night didn’t happen. I mean, the man literally had his fingers inside me, fingering me into what felt like another continent and now I’m supposed to just smile and say good morning?

And sure, I’ve got a record of selective amnesia when it comes to him. But the fact that he’s figured that out? That might just be more humiliating than the orgasm itself.

And it’s still a major blow to my ego that it took me coming and trembling beside a bar to realize I might actually have a crush on Braydon.

Like really? That’s how I find out? After a blackout-level orgasm?

Not during a cute moment, not after some emotional talk, but while I could barely remember my own name?

It’s like my body figured it out before my brain did.

And honestly? That’s death to my pride.

No, actually, it’s tragic.

Because I didn’t even get a warning, no slow realization, no dramatic “oh no, I think I like him” moment. Nope. I had to find out while he had his hands in me, unlocking every nerve in my body like it was some kind of prize box.

Maybe I should’ve gotten a heads up first. Maybe a tiny moment to breathe, to decide what to do with whatever I’m feeling. But no.

And now I have to face him today.

We’re supposed to study together in his room later, which sounds like a cosmic joke at this point.

It’s not even him I don’t trust anymore. It’s me.

It’s what he’s done to my body. What he’s made me realize about it. That there are certain highs I’ve never known before him, highs that now feel impossible to forget. And the worst part? I’m not sure I even want to. And I’m terrified of how easily I’d let him take me again.

“Katy, can I borrow-” Allie suddenly stops in the doorway, her toothbrush in hand, and just stares at me. Her eyes narrow, scanning me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “What’s with that look?” she asks slowly.

“What look?” I blurt out, blinking way too fast. I can’t tell her. Not yet. I need at least twenty-four hours to process everything in peace.

She squints, her toothbrush now waving in the air. “That look,” she says, circling her finger around her own face. “I swear that’s the same expression I had when I hooked up with that albino guy sophomore year.”

The hair on my arms shoots straight up.

“Allie, how can you even say that!!” I snap, louder than I meant to.

She blinks, startled. “What? I’m just saying-”

“No,” I cut her off, clutching my blanket tighter. “How could you even compare the two situations?”

Her jaw drops, and she scrunches her face like I’ve officially lost my mind.

“I only said you looked… off,” she mutters, backing toward my closet. She grabs the first top she sees, holds it up like a white flag, and says, “I’ll just borrow this and quietly retreat to my room.”

She mutters something under her breath about me being on my period and turning into a scary dragon before slipping out of the room.

I let out a long, shaky sigh and collapse backward on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Great. Just great.

For a few seconds, I just lie there in silence, my brain completely fried. Then I groan, dragging a pillow over my face like it might somehow smother all the embarrassing thoughts running wild in my head.

Ugh.

Why is this so hard? Why am I acting like a total mess over this?

It’s not like Braydon Cooper invented orgasms or something. People have them every day. Normal, functioning people. And yet here I am, acting like mine was some kind of spiritual awakening.

I let out another groan and kick my legs in the air, half out of frustration, half out of disbelief. This is pathetic. I’m pathetic.

Still… the thought of seeing him again makes my stomach twist, tight and warm and annoying as hell.

I hate that it does.

I hate that I remember the exact way his voice dropped when he promised to make me cum. I hate that my skin prickles just thinking about it.

With a sharp inhale, I sit up and close my eyes for a moment. My hands curl into fists in my lap, like maybe I can punch some sense back into myself.

Okay. No more losing my mind over Braydon Cooper.

Today, I pull myself together.

Or at least I’ll try.

I’ll go to class. I’ll hold my head high. I’ll talk to Braydon like a normal, functioning human being.

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