Fake Dating 103 - Fake Dating My Ex’s Favourite Hockey Player

EMILIA

Luther always leaves the kitchen lights on.

Every. Single. Time.

It’s why Diana says he has the stealth of a dying elephant and why Mum cuts his allowance every time she finds out he’s raided the fridge at midnight.

“Everything in life is a choice,” Mum always says, flipping through her morning paper, while Dad rubs her shoulders and nods like she’s preaching gospel. “And unfortunately, that includes your poor career decisions. If you choose to be a criminal, at least be apetent

one.”

So yeah tonight is no different.

–

I tiptoe down the stairs, socked feet silent on the wood, already mentally preparing my ‘caught you red–handed‘ speech.

The kitchen lights are on. The fridge door’s wide open.

And someone’s standing there.

I scowl. Rookie mistake, Luther. Mum would’ve had your head if the staff weren’t all gone

for the holidays.

When I walk into the kitchen, I find Luther sitting on the counter.

Diana’s

He’s sketching something on his iPad with his Apple Pencil,pletely in his own world. There’s an open milk carton in one hand, and next to him is a pack of strawberries strawberries, the ones she picked fresh from Dad’s garden this morning.

I lean against the doorframe and raise a brow. “You know Dia’s going to murder you, right?”

Luther jumps like he’s been electrocuted.

Milk goes flying.

It spills all over the counter, over his iPad, and right onto Diana’s precious strawberries.

We both stare at the mess.

“Shit,” he mutters, frozen like he’s trying to mentally undo thest three seconds.

I cover my mouth to stop theugh bubbling up.

He slowly looks up at me like I’m the one who spilled milk all over the kitchen, then lets out the most dramatic sigh I’ve ever heard. He hops off the counter, pushes his sses up his nose, and drops the milk carton with a wet st.

“Why the hell are you so annoying?”

I lean against the doorway, arms folded. “It’s a gift.”

He starts wiping down the counter, grumbling under his breath. I watch for a second, then feel a tiny bit bad and step forward to help. But the second I reach for his iPad, he swats my

hand away like I’m a fly.

“Okay, rude,” I say, raising my brows. “Sorry for trying to help.”

“You can also say sorry for causing the mess.”

I blink. “Excuse me? Me? If you weren’t acting like a roon in the first ce, none of this would’ve happened.”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he mutters, shooting me a re as he dabs at the spilled milk. “I was sketching ideas for the exhibition project. You know, being productive? Something

you should try once in your life.”

I smirk. “Aw, look at you. Little artist boy getting all defensive.”

He throws a strawberry at me, I dodge, barely.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters.

“And you love me,‘ I say sweetly, grabbing a paper towel and helping anyway.

He tries to hide the little smile pulling at his lips. “What? Did youe all this way just to hang out with your incredibly cool, charming older brother?”

I snort. “What? Since when have I ever had one of those?”

He grabs a wet paper towel and chucks it at me. It ps onto my left cheek with a disgusting st, and I let out the most offended gasp known to mankind.

“Luther!” I shriek, peeling it off and hurling it right back at him.

It hits the counter and sprays more milk everywhere, making an even bigger mess.

“You’re so mean, Emily,” he grumbles with a pout. “You onlye talk to me when you want to gush about that country bumpkin of yours.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Country bumpkin? Really? We’re still doing that?”

He rolls his eyes. “I call it like I see it.”

I open my mouth to defend Zane, ready to fire back with a full–on monologue… but then I

remember the Maine incident too.

Yeah. Maybe not tonight.

“For your information,” I say with a dramatic toss of my hair, “I only came down for Diana’s

strawberries. But you ruined them.”

He frowns a bit, eyeing me up and down as he tosses out some paper towels. “Isn’t this what they call defamation of character? nder?”

“Really, Luther? You can’t be serious-” My hand slips while wiping down the counter and hits the carton of milk, spilling the rest of its contents on the kitchen floor.