1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Megan

T he office desk looks like a mini replica of Mount Everest. I'm buried beneath a mountain of legal documents, and it's cluttered with highlighters and sticky notes. I keep glancing at the clock on the wall as it slowly ticks away the seconds, reminding me I'm falling further behind, which makes the days feel endless. My fingers tap furiously on the keyboard as I struggle to catch up on this never-ending workload. With how I don't talk to hardly anybody here, one would think I might sail through and be on top of the workload, but nope. The work piles on consistently.

"Did you see Tyler Bennett's goal last night?" I overhear one of my colleagues say to another. "He's on fire this season!"

It takes everything in my control not to cringe at the mention of Tyler's name. Does he have to be everywhere?

"Yeah, he's definitely one of the best players out there right now," Doug in accounting says.

Their voices drift over from the other side of the office, but they might as well be miles away. They don't even notice me hunched over my desk, scowling at yet another incomprehensible paragraph.

Even when I'm not at work, it seems like everyone's talking about Tyler Bennett. My younger brother is obsessed with him, constantly going on about his latest game or some incredible play. My few remaining friends all have crushes on him, swooning over his chiseled jaw and dazzling blue eyes. Even my parents are fans, always eager to watch his games and cheer him on.

And then there's me. Megan Foster. The girl who just so happens to know Tyler Bennett personally—and can't stand him. Sure, we've hung out a few times, thanks to our mutual friends Ava and Ethan, who are madly in love and recently engaged. We only tolerate each other for their sake. Tyler's arrogant, smug attitude has always rubbed me the wrong way.

A sigh escapes my lips as I stare at my computer screen. I wish, just once, someone would pay attention to me instead of fawning over some hotshot hockey player. After all, I'm smart, independent, and working my ass off at this prestigious law firm, but no matter how hard I try, I always seem to fade into the background. It's like I'm invisible, a ghost haunting these halls.

My fingers hesitate above the keyboard, and I glance around the office. No one's looking my way. They're all too busy chatting about Tyler Bennett or some other insignificant topic.

"Maybe if I had a boyfriend like Tyler," I mutter under my breath, "people would finally take notice of me here and see how hard I work and don't need to be ignored."

But that's impossible, isn't it? Tyler Bennett would never be interested in someone like me—a curvy, twenty-five-year-old lawyer who can't even get her coworkers to remember her name. Besides, we can't stand each other.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the ridiculous thought. Time to focus on work and forget about Tyler Bennett and his infuriatingly perfect face. After all, I have more important things to worry about, like proving myself to my boss and earning a place at this firm. If I want to become a partner within five years, I need him to notice me first.

Right as I refocus on the legal document in front of me, the sound of footsteps approaching my desk disrupts my concentration. My heart skips a beat when I see Mr. Anderson, my boss, coming my way. He's a big shot lawyer, and it's important to make a good impression. However, he overhears the Tyler Bennett talk and stops by my desk talking to the other staff.

"Did you guys catch the game last night? Tyler Bennett scored the winning goal! What a performance, huh?"

I force a smile, trying not to let my frustration show. Of course, he wants to talk about Tyler Bennett. Everyone wants to talk about Tyler Bennett.

Feeling the need to be included, I speak before anybody else can. "Uh, yeah," I reply, pretending to be interested. "He's really something, isn't he?"

"Absolutely," Mr. Anderson exclaims, his enthusiasm almost contagious. "I've been following his career since he was just a rookie. The guy's got talent, there's no denying it."

"Right," I say, nodding along, even though all I want to do is scream. Why does everyone care so much about some dumb hockey player?

Inwardly, I roll my eyes and wish for this conversation to end, but Mr. Anderson doesn't seem to notice my lack of interest, or maybe he doesn't care. Either way, I find myself trapped in the conversation.

As my frustration grows, I can't help but wonder if there's a way to turn this situation to my advantage. If everyone's so obsessed with him, maybe I can use it to get noticed. It's a risky idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Mr. Anderson," I say, hesitating for a moment before diving headfirst into my lie. "Tyler and I were discussing his recent game last night."

Mr. Anderson's eyes light up with interest as he leans closer, eager to hear more. "Really, Molly?" Another cringe. He never remembers my name. How hard is it to remember Megan? It's not like it's an unusual name. "You know Tyler Bennett?" He asks, genuine surprise in his voice.

"Uh, yeah," I stammer, trying to sound casual. "We're... dating." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I silently curse myself for letting them out, but there is no turning back now.

"Wow, Mathilda! That's incredible!" Mr. Anderson looks impressed, and I can't help but feel a small sense of victory, even though he called me Mathilda. Ugh. "So, you must have some inside scoop on his hockey career, then? I've followed all his stats."

"Uh, sure," I reply, racking my brain for something - anything - that sounds plausible. "He's really dedicated, you know? He's always practicing and working on improving his skills. And he's been studying past games, analyzing strategies, and learning from other players. He's very serious." Which is all true. I've seen Tyler go over game tape footage until three in the morning once, when we both stayed with Ava and Ethan at Ethan's family's house on vacation. He's always looking at different strategies.

"Sounds like he's got a great work ethic," Mr. Anderson says approvingly. "I bet he's an interesting guy to have around."

"Definitely," I agree, trying to suppress the memory of our last encounter when we both were irritated by each other's presence.

"Anyway, I should get back to work," I say, hoping to put an end to this conversation before it spirals further out of control, and I say anything further to get me in a load of trouble.

"Of course, of course," Mr. Anderson replies, still looking awestruck. "Hey, is he coming to the firm's 20th anniversary weekend retreat next weekend? I'd love to hang out with him."

Shoot, what do I do? He appears so eager. "Sure thing, he's coming," I say, forcing another smile as he walks away and I slump in my chair and bury my face in my hands when he's out of sight, berating myself for the impulsive lie. How am I ever going to convince Tyler, the same guy who can't stand me, to play along and pretend to be my boyfriend? I'm so screwed.