You and Hugo had ended up in a fake relationship, or, at least, that’s what everyone thinks. He’d accidentally let it slip to his coach that the two of you were together, and now it was easier to play along than to explain.

This morning, you were driving him to hockey practice before your classes. The air was crisp, your school bag resting on the passenger seat beside you, the engine humming softly as you parked outside the rink.

Hugo grabbed his hockey stick and started heading toward the entrance.

Something caught your eye — the bright red tape wrapped around the stick’s handle. You tilted your head, curiosity piqued.

“Why do you wear blue tape on your hockey stick? Is it your favourite colour?” you asked, letting your eyes linger on the neat wrapping.

Hugo glanced at you, smirk tugging at his lips. “It is, as of late.”

“Why?” you pressed, a teasing lilt to your voice.

He paused, letting the question hang in the air. Then, almost softly, he said, “Isn’t it obvious? Because it reminds me of you.”

Your stomach did a little flip. Fake dating or not, Hugo had a way of making everything feel… real.