CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

F inn

I try not to let lose a slew of swears as Noah and I walk back to the locker room. Getting reprimanded for swearing is so not what I want to happen now, and I'm not sure who is paying attention to us.

I mean, a normal couple would be completely happy that his big day is going to be recorded by professionals, right?

And it's not like it's my actual big day: it's a party to celebrate our love.

No big deal at all.

But it feels tremendous.

"I don't know if my parents can come." Noah's green eyes dart toward me, before he concentrates on the photos on the wall.

"Oh." My forehead wrinkles, and I imagine Noah's parents not being there. Yeah, after our talk with the owner and team management, that wouldn't be a great look.

Noah's steps are rigid, and I want to pull him toward me.

"Because it's expensive?" I ask.

I know Noah and I come from different financial backgrounds. Most people come from a different financial background than me, though Noah's seems particularly different.

"How many hours away are they from Boston?"

"Three and a half."

"Tell them they can stay with us."

"I wouldn't want them to impose... "

"They don't need to think about having a seven-hour drive in one day. I have the bedrooms. Besides, how often do they see you? They must miss you."

Noah's lips do something that resembles a smile, but that only makes my heart ache.

"It's okay," I tell him, even though I'm not sure what the problem is.

But I know I miss Noah's giggles and full-throated laughs, the kind he gave me on my bed this morning, the kind he's given me at other points, the kind I haven't heard him give anyone else.

I don't like other versions of Noah, where he's flashing polite, strained smiles that he thinks I want, when all I want is to hear him laugh and see him relax.

"I'm not sure it is," Noah says.

"Tell them they can stay with us," I repeat.

He stares up at me, and for a moment, his gaze dips to my lips. The moment is so short, that I think I might have imagined it. Noah is now hurrying toward the locker room. Whatever private conversation we were having in the hallway is not to be continued. Not anytime soon at least.

But this morning I thought I saw him look...there.

And I thought I saw embarrassment on his face after.

Did his pupils dilate? Were his cheeks a ruddier tone than when he entered?

It's suddenly essential that I remember everything that happened in that moment of horrifying embarrassment.

Is it possible Noah likes me? Those kisses we had were good. Am I the only one who feels that way? Is it possible he feels the same?

I want to ask him everything. But the words feel ridiculous on my tongue. Noah has never given any indication he likes men. The man had a girlfriend. A serious, years-long affair.

I can't approach him and ask if he's feeling squishy romantic feelings. I can't ask him that and see shock and unease on his face. We need to pretend we're together for the next year and I won't have him worried I'll put another move on him. I won't have him think this is one long crazy seduction attempt. He's in my home. I got him into this. I can't ask for the crazy, the impossible, and I'm relieved when we reach the locker room.

The streamers and balloons have disappeared. We walk over the glitter, and this time, no music plays as we enter, and no cheers sound.

NOAH

Finn is quiet the rest of the day. He's by my side on the treadmills, then we spot each other when we lift.

But his gaze is troubled, his jaw stiff.

No one else notices.

We play Carolina in the evening and lose, 1-0. I avoid looking at the owner's box. I don't need to wonder much to know what Tanaka is thinking.

Normally, Finn might be called on to answer some of the reporters' questions, but Daniela has us slip away. We're not going to accidentally hold a press conference about our relationship on the same night of a loss .

Finn is quiet as he drives us back to his apartment. Boston sparkles by us, all tall imposing building that glitter through the panoramic sunroof. Every facade downtown is beautiful, each exceeding the town hall of my home in New Hampshire. We pull into the fancy parking lot beneath Finn's gleaming Seaport apartment complex and are silent as the elevator zooms up to Finn's apartment.

The conversation we make in the kitchen is stilted. Apparently, neither of us is hungry, and we're both eager to go to bed.

Once in my room, I text my mother and pass on Finn's invitation to stay with us.

She responds at once.

Mom: We'll think about it.

I sigh and shove my phone away. I fight the urge to go into Finn's room and tell him, and instead focus on going asleep.

Then the doorbell rings.

I tense, wondering if I should answer it or if Finn has heard it. Finn's footsteps pad toward the door. After a moment's hesitation, I slip from the room and follow him down the corridor. Foreboding grips my stomach, and I linger in the hallway.

Finn opens the door, then Madison glides into the apartment, carrying a bottle of Dom Perignon.

"Madison?" Finn asks. "What are you doing here?" He frowns. "Did something happen in your apartment? Do you need my help?"

"You want to lend me some sugar?" Madison giggles. "Or open a pickle jar?"

I step against the wall, hoping the shadow will obscure me.

"How come my phone is exploding with news about your nuptials?" Madison asks.

Finn inhales, and I hate we are in this position. "Noah is my husband."

"Your fake husband."

The words echo through the apartment. Are Finn and I that obvious?

Finn inhales. "Our marriage is real."

"You mean, your fake marriage is real."

"That doesn't make sense, Madison."

"I saw you both. You didn't know each other. It doesn't make sense."

I should leave. Clearly this conversation isn't meant for me. And yet my feet have turned into trees, and I can no more leave Finn's presence than trees can walk away from their roots.

"We had a good time together," Finn says finally.

"You mean when he threw up? Or when he disgraced the Blizzards through his appalling skating?"

Every word scrapes against my soul, and I lean further against the wall. I so don't want them to see me listening to this conversation.

"You don't skate, Madison. Besides, a puck hit his skate. It could have happened to anyone."

"I didn't come to hear you lie to me, Finn Carrington. I'm your friend, remember?"

"I remember."

"I thought you could use one right now. "

Finn rakes his hand through his hair. "That's nice."

She swivels toward him, and even from here, I can see the expansiveness of her Sydney Sweeney bosom, and the tininess of her waist. She's gorgeous.

Her voice turns husky, and she wraps her arms around Finn's neck. "Besides, I thought we were going to have a sleepover."

"You want a sleepover now?"

She leans her head back, and her dark locks whoosh behind her. She is sexiness. "Fuck me, Finn."