Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 8

KATY’S POV

“Text me the details,” I tell our debate president as I step out of the hall, and she gives me a quick thumbs-up in reply, already turning to talk to someone else.

I exhale, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder as I make my way toward the campus café. Honestly, I’d been praying for practice to end early because I’m so thirsty, and all I can think about right now is getting a drink.

And maybe it’s everything that’s happened today, or maybe it’s just the long hours, but I feel completely drained as I walk. It’s like I’ve lived three days in one. And the worst part is knowing I still have tutoring with Braydon tonight. The thought alone makes me sigh, my hand raking through my hair.

As I push forward, two girls walk past me, and one of them tilts her head my way and whispers something to her friend. Then, clear as day, I hear her say, “Yeah, that’s her.”

My steps falter a little, and I turn back, just to make sure she isn’t pointing at someone behind me. But the hallway is empty, and no one is behind me. Which means… she was pointing at me.

My mind starts to scramble for a reason why. Did I drop something? Do I look weird?

I’m still trying to figure it out when another girl walks past. She keeps her phone angled low, pretending to scroll, but the lens is tilted straight at me. She flicks her eyes up for half a second before looking away, like she didn’t just snap a picture.

A knot tightens in my stomach.

I raise my hand to my face, brushing across my cheek, my forehead, and even my lips, half-expecting to find something smeared, but my fingers come away clean.

So then… why is everyone staring?

When I push through the café doors, it’s packed with students clustered around small tables, and the baristas are calling out names over the buzz of conversation.

But the moment I step inside, a hush seems to roll over the place, and heads turn, eyes landing on me. It’s that strange, heavy silence, like everyone knows a private joke about me and I’m the last one to find out. God, it’s freaking me out. Is this still about Braydon?

I keep my pace steady and slip into line at the counter. All I want is an iced coffee, maybe two cups if it’ll keep me alive through tutoring later.

Behind me, a girl joins the line. At first, I don’t pay her any attention, assuming she’s probably waiting on her order. But then she edges closer…too close and I feel the warmth of her breath at my neck before her fingers tug lightly at my sleeve.

I spin around, startled, and she takes a quick step back, hands up like she didn’t mean it.

“Sorry,” she says, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. “I just wanted to check if it’s real or fake. You don’t mind, do you?”

Take a look at what? I think, blinking.

Then I look down at myself, and it hits me. Damn it.

The jacket. I’m wearing Braydon’s hockey jacket with his name stitched across the back. Everything suddenly clicks into place: the stares, whispers, and secret photos.

I press my hands to my face for a second, almost embarrassed at how long it took me to notice. How could I have been so oblivious?

But then another thought crosses my mind. How could she think it’s fake? Does she really think it’s impossible for me to be wearing it? Or that I’d just plop on a fake jacket and walk around campus?

I shoot her a glare. “It’s real,” I say. “Why would I wear a fake jacket?”

She gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “So it’s true?” she whispers, leaning closer.

“Tr…true what?” I stammer, my brain scrambling.

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