By November, you had learned one thing about Briar University: hockey mattered here in a way that felt almost religious.

You knew that because people never stopped talking about it.

In your defence, first year was already messy enough without memorizing the entire hockey roster.

Tonight, Briar had put together some kind of big campus event in one of the main halls: club tables against the walls, music too loud, free food disappearing too quickly, and clusters of students standing around for the drinks.

Allie and Hannah had been beside you twenty minutes ago. Then Hannah spotted someone she knew, Allie got pulled into a conversation, and suddenly you were alone near the edge of the room with a guy you barely knew standing too close.

His name was maybe Tyler.

Or Travis.

Something with a T.

You weren’t sure, because he had introduced himself once and then immediately started talking at you like your silence was encouragement.

At first, you were polite.

A smile. A nod. A small laugh at the right time.

Then you tried to leave.

He followed.

You said you needed to find your friends.

He said he’d help.

You said you were going to the bathroom.

He said he’d wait.

Now he stood too close again, one hand braced on the wall near your shoulder, his smile too confident, his eyes too persistent.

“Come on,” he said, like you were being difficult on purpose. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

“I know,” you said, taking a small step back. “I just really need to—”

“What, find your boyfriend?” His mouth twitched.

Your stomach tightened.

You glanced past him, searching for Allie, Hannah, literally anyone familiar. But the crowd had shifted.

Your brain panicked.

“Yes,” you blurted.

The guy’s expression shifted just enough to tell you he didn’t believe you.

“Wait—”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “He’s—”

You turned, pulse suddenly loud in your ears.

Oh God.

You had not thought this through.

You needed someone. Anyone. Someone tall enough, close enough, convincing enough.

Your eyes landed on a guy a few feet away.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark messy hair. Dark shirt stretched across his chest. He stood with a couple of other guys near one of the tables, laughing like he had never been uncomfortable a day in his life.

You did not know him.

But he looked safe.

Or at least safer than the guy in front of you.

So you slipped past T-name before you could lose your nerve and walked straight up to the stranger.

His gray eyes flicked toward you just as you reached him.

You didn’t give yourself time to think.

“Please,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. “Please, pretend you know me.”

Then you stepped into him and wrapped your arms around his neck like you had done it a hundred times before.

For half a second, he went still.

Solid chest. Warm body.

Then his hand came down slowly to your back.

Not grabbing. Not pushing.

Just there.

Protective enough to be convincing.

His other arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you in with such easy confidence that it almost looked real.

“Well, hey,” he said, voice low, amused, and impossibly natural. “There you are.”

His chin dipped slightly, his mouth close to your hair as he looked past you.

The guy behind you had stopped.

You could feel it.

The stranger’s hand moved once over your back.

“Miss me that much?” he asked, his tone teasing enough to sound like a real boyfriend.

You swallowed, cheek briefly pressed against his chest.

Then his gaze lifted again, fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Everything good?” he asked.

Not to you.

To him.

The guy muttered something dismissive, maybe embarrassed, and then the pressure behind you disappeared.

Your whole body loosened at once.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and started to pull away.

But the stranger’s arm stayed lightly around you for one more second. “Whoa,” he said, looking down at you with a slow, crooked smile. “That’s it?”

You blinked.

“You don’t get to fake-date me in public, use my excellent boyfriend skills, and then disappear without even telling me your name.”