Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 92

KATY’S POV

Braydon buries his face in my hair, tugging me closer until my body molds against his bare chest. I press my cheek to him, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

His fingers trace lazy patterns along my shoulder, then drift up to cup my chin. I feel him tilt my face gently toward his, and I meet his gaze.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asks.

I blink at him, running through my schedule in my head: classes, Allie’s tutoring session… nothing that stressful.

“Depends,” I say slowly, biting my lip. “On what time.”

“Seven pm.”

I furrow my brows, searching his face for clues, but he’s already fighting back a smirk.” What’s happening at seven?” I ask, curiosity tinged with suspicion.

He picks up a strand of my hair, rolling it between his fingers before leaning in, his breath warm against my ear. “I’ll send a dress,” he whispers.

Before I can process that, he’s already getting up from the bed.

“I haven’t said yes,” I call after him, trying to look unimpressed even though my insides are doing a whole cheerleading routine.

Because yes, despite everything, I’m still a sucker for the small things: actual dates, being asked out properly, and someone picking a dress for me. Those are the moments that make me kick my feet when I read romance books, and living them in real life feels unreal.

Braydon pokes his head out from the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame with a playful smirk.

“And what will it take to change your mind, mi lady?” he asks in this terrible medieval accent that almost has me laughing before I can stop myself.

I sit up, cross my arms, and plant my lips in a dramatic pout.

“I told you I need a favor from you,” I say, trying to sound annoyed but failing spectacularly.” You don’t even care about me.”

He comes out of the bathroom, looking genuinely appalled, and stops in front of me. His arms hang loosely at his sides, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“You know I said I’d do it regardless,” he says, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “But tell me, what is it?”

I exhale slowly. “Okay… so,” I start, “we have a debate round in Salem on Saturday, right? And we don’t have a bus to get us there. And… well, I may have mentioned, um, that you have a car I could borrow.” I shrug, trying to act casual. “So now… I need to save my image and my ego.”

When I finish, he’s wearing that amused smirk again. Honestly, I expected it. I’ve come to realize that he finds basically everything I do perpetually funny or cute, and I’ve learned to live with it. Whatever works for him.

He settles beside me, still grinning.

“I love you, Peach,” he says, “but have you considered that you might actually be a bad driver? And, you know… maybe endanger other people if I let you use my car?”

I gasp, my eyes narrowing as I glare at him. “I can drive.”

“Really?” He lifts an eyebrow.

“Ughh.” I run a hand through my hair. “You’re so annoying. I’m serious, I got my license even before Justin. He’s the terrible driver.”

I expect him to fire back with some sarcastic remark, but instead, he presses his lips together, holding back a laugh. I hate to say it but it’s actually worse than if he’d teased me outright.

“You know what, forget it.” I snap, turning away and folding my arms. Deep down, my mind mutters, “Hold me. Apologize to me.” And, of course, a tiny smile creeps onto my face when his hands wrap around me, pulling me closer.

“Come on,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my chin while I gently push at him. “You know I’m just pulling your leg. You’re so cute when you act like this.”

I nudge his head away, trying to keep my composure. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

For some reason, I can still hear the humor in his voice when he says, “Okay, let’s do it this way.” He gently forces me to face him, and his tone shifts to something more serious.

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