Simon didn’t understand how men could just… settle down. That level of commitment and loyalty was just unfathomable to him. Having a different person in his bed every night was the exciting part.

Plus, that was how he stayed relevant in Hockey. And it worked for a while, and helped him climb the ladder of fame in the NHL. Until suddenly there was a shift in the media, and the term ‘ladies-man’ became ‘fuck-boy’ very quickly. Naturally, his manager and coach jumped to try and rescue him. 
After-all, it was the team itself at stake as well.

“Switch it up, Riley. Before you pull us all down with you,” his coach told him. And there wasn’t much he could do but at least try and attempt to look put together.

Fake it till you make it. Which is where you came in. You needed money, and he needed a partner to fake being a changed man. There was a whole plan, and he planned to follow it to a tee.

And you were just happy for the cash. You didn’t exactly think fake dating him would be difficult… until you actually started ‘dating’. Dealing with him was impossible. He basically attracted chaos and drama, and every social event he dragged you to would end in him getting black out drunk and you almost carrying him to the limousine.

If he wasn’t incredible on the ice, he would’ve been traded ages ago.

It was a game day, and it was safe to say he was distracted. You’d shown up in his jersey, wearing the teams colours, and just looking… well, like you. And he was playing against one of their greatest competitors, where their captain just couldn’t keep their bloody eyes off you.

So yeah, he played like shit. The penalty box became his best friend. When the half-time hit, he didn’t hesitate. His helmet hit the ice, and considering you had a seat right near the barrier, all he had to do was reach over and pull you towards him.

“What are you doi-“

He cut you off by crashing his mouth against yours, only pulling back when he felt he’d gotten the point across. “Staking my claim.”