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Gorgeous, smart, witty fucking Gabriella De Luca of all people. And all I know is that she deserves so much better.
Then there's that kiss. The one at her Nonna's house. The one that really wasn’t supposed to mean anything but...it did.
I can still feel the softness of her lips, the way she fit perfectly against me. It's like a constant reel playing in my mind. And it’s the last thing I’m supposed to be thinking about during our fake engagement.
But damn, I enjoyed it. More than I care to admit.
Our fake engagement which is meant to fool everyone else shouldn't have me yearning for something real, right? But here I am, crashing into boards and missing passes, completely losing myself to thoughts of her. It’s almost poetic in a way, just not the kind of poetry that wins games.
My coach's whistle snaps me back to the present. “Snap out of it, Walker!” he yells, and I nod, pushing harder on the ice. Trying to focus. Trying to be here, in a moment that she is sorely missing from.
After our grueling practice session, I head to the showers, trying to shake off the distraction with scalding water.
It doesn't really work.
Thoughts of Gabi cling to my mind, more persistent than ever. Fully dressed, I pull out my phone and type out a text to her.
I type, “Meet in the hotel lobby to go over the PR plan?”
Gabi doesn't take long to reply. I can almost hear her teasing tone through the screen.
“Let's ‘strategize’. Meet you in 30.”
I chuckle, appreciating her knack for turning any mundane task into something more intriguing. I grab my bag and make my way out of the arena, heart pounding a little harder than it probably should.
When I arrive in the lobby, Gabi is already there, waiting in a denim jumpsuit that flatters her frame perfectly.
Her dark hair cascades softly over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that makes her green eyes stand out even more. Her full lips curve into a smile as she sees me approaching, and I can feel my heart skip a beat.
I inhale slowly. "Ready to go?" I ask, extending my arm. "Got a cab waiting outside for us."
"Actually, I was thinking we could walk," she suggests, eyes sparking with something close to intrigue.
"Walk?" I echo. "Where to?"
Turning her phone around, she shows me an address typed on it. "There's this Italian restaurant just a few blocks away. The name of the place is Amore. Apparently, they've got award-winning lasagna."
"Let me guess, you want to compare their sauce to Nonna's, don't you?"
Gabi laughs, a musical sound that never fails to lift my spirits. "You know me too well, Jacob."
I do. That's the problem.
I know Gabriella De Luca a little too well.
I now know what her mouth tastes like. What the heat of her body feels like against mine. What it sounds like when she whimpers softly against my lips.
Keeping an eye on her as we play fake fiancés is one thing. Having to be near her without delving any further...that's a whole other level of torture.
I repeat my usual mantra, straightening as I gaze at her.
This is just for show. A means to an end.
Blowing out a breath, I extend my hand.
"All right then, Miss De Luca." I place my hand on the small of her back, keeping it there. "Lead the way."
Gabi
