Fake Dating My Best Friend's Brother

The men's locker room at Silvermoon Academy smells exactly the way you'd expect , sweat, pine-scented body wash, and the faint metallic bite of adrenaline that never fully airs out. I'm sitting on the bench near Liam's locker, my bag between my feet, trying very hard to look like I belong here while half-naked hockey players move around me like I'm a piece of furniture.

Most of them don't even bother to acknowledge me anymore. I've been here enough times that I'm part of the scenery.

This is fine. This is completely normal. I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve.

"She left me on read again." Liam drops onto the bench beside me, towel around his hips, phone in his hand. He doesn't look at me , he's staring at his screen like it personally wronged him. "Two hours. Two hours, Aria. I texted her after practice and she just , nothing."

"Mm." I study the far wall.

"She was online. I could see it." He throws the phone down onto the bench hard enough that it bounces. "What is she even doing?"

Probably whatever she wants, I think. She's Chloe. She does whatever she wants.

Out loud I say, "Maybe she was busy."

"She's never too busy to post on her story." He runs a hand through his dark, damp hair. His jaw is tight. He's got that look he gets , the one that makes him look younger than nineteen, frustrated in a way that an Alpha shouldn't let show. "She put up three posts in the last hour. Three. But she can't answer my text?"

I have nothing to say to that because he's right, and because what I actually want to say is Liam, she's been doing this for two months, open your eyes , but I don't say that. I never say that.

"I'm sure she'll text you back," I offer instead.

He finally looks at me. His eyes are a warm amber-brown, the color they always go when his wolf is calm, and he looks so genuinely troubled that something clenches in my chest. Liam Blackwood is objectively, unfairly good-looking , sharp jaw, broad shoulders, the kind of natural Alpha presence that fills a room without effort. He's been my best friend Maya's older brother for as long as I can remember, and I've been embarrassingly in love with him for approximately three of those years.

I'm aware of how pathetic that is. I don't need anyone to tell me.

"You think?" he asks.

"I think," I lie, because that's what I do.

He's still talking about Chloe fifteen minutes later when he finally starts pulling on clothes. The complaints have shifted from her texting habits to the fact that she skipped their dinner reservation last week, then canceled their plans last weekend, then showed up to Saturday's party and spent the whole night talking to some guy named Derek from the Ironpeak Pack.

I know all of this because I was at the party too. I saw exactly how she spent her night. I just didn't say anything.

Because it wasn't your place, my wolf murmurs inside my head. Because you didn't want him to look at you as the one who delivered bad news.

She's not wrong. I hate that she's not wrong.

"Aria." Liam snaps his fingers in front of my face. "Are you listening?"

"Every word," I say. "Chloe. Derek. Party. Texting. I'm riveted."

He narrows his eyes, then laughs , just a short one, more air than sound. "You're the worst."

"I know."

"I'm serious though. Do you think she's losing interest?"

I open my mouth.

"Yo, Blackwood." Two of his teammates appear around the row of lockers , Jake Torres, grinning wide, and Finn Walsh behind him, already looking like he's enjoying something at someone else's expense. "Is that your assistant again?"

I feel it before I can stop it , the slight tightening of my whole body, that instinctive coiling of embarrassment.

Jake drops into an exaggerated bow. "I gotta say, man, she is trained. Every single practice, right on time." He grins at me. "What do they pay you, sweetheart?"

"She's not my assistant," Liam says, but he says it absently, still looking at his phone, which is somehow worse than not saying it at all.

"Nah, she's got a different title." Finn leans against the locker, arms crossed, enjoying himself. "What do you call it , errand girl? Personal page? I saw her carrying your water bottle last week."

"Once," I say.

"It was twice." Finn holds up two fingers. "I counted."

My face is hot. I can feel it. I hate that I can feel it, because Omegas aren't supposed to let Alphas see they've landed a hit, and these two know exactly what they're doing.

"I carry my own water bottle," I say, my voice coming out steadier than I feel. "I was holding it because he asked me to while he talked to Coach. I'm not his errand girl. I'm his friend."

"Right, right." Jake nods slowly, that grin not going anywhere. "His friend who shows up to every single practice, waits in the locker room ,"

"I was invited."

", brings him food sometimes ,"

"One time ,"

", basically runs his social schedule ," Jake gestures at me with wide, innocent eyes. "Sounds like a pretty dedicated friend."

Finn snorts. Liam glances up from his phone, finally tuning back in. "Leave her alone," he says, but it's the same tone he'd use to tell someone to stop tapping their foot , mild, vaguely distracted. Not offended on my behalf. Just managing a minor inconvenience.

Jake and Finn drift off still laughing, and I stare at the far wall and press my thumbnail into my palm until the urge to say something I'll regret passes.

Liam looks at me. "You okay?"

'I'm fine,' I say with my mouth.

You could have sounded more convincing, says my wolf.

He gets a text from Chloe about twenty minutes later , hey come find me, I'm at the fountain , and the transformation is immediate. The tension drops out of his shoulders. He checks his reflection in the locker, smooths his hair.

"I'll catch you later?" He's already moving.

"Sure." I wave a hand. "Go."

He goes.

I sit in the emptying locker room for a moment, listening to the drip of a shower and the distant clang of equipment being put away. Then I pick up my bag and leave.

I don't mean to walk past the fountain. I'm taking the long route back to the dorms , the one that cuts through the east garden, past the stone paths and the old stone fountain that's been there since before any of us were born. It's a nicer walk. Quieter.

I hear them before I see them.

Laughter , low, intimate. A girl's voice. Then silence of a different kind.

I round the corner, and my feet stop.

Chloe is there, her back against the fountain ledge, her hands on some guy's chest. He's tall, dark-haired, wearing a Shadowridge Prep jacket , not one of ours. Her face is tipped up toward his. And then he kisses her, and she kisses him back, and her fingers curl into his lapels, and it goes on long enough that there's nothing accidental about it.

My wolf goes very still.

I don't think. I walk forward.

"Chloe."

She pulls back slowly , not startled, not embarrassed. She turns her head toward me with the particular unhurried quality of someone who has never once been caught off guard in her life. Her dark hair falls over one shoulder. Her lips curve.

"Oh," she says. "It's you."

The guy , Shadowridge, whoever he is , takes one look at me, reads whatever's on my face, and takes a tactful step back.

"That's Liam's jacket you're wearing," I say. My voice comes out flat.

"It is." She glances down at it. The Silvermoon Academy crest on the chest. "He lent it to me last week."

"He's looking for you right now."

Something flickers across her face , amusement, mostly. "I know. I texted him."

"You ," I stop. Breathe. "You just told him to come find you. He thinks he's about to see his girlfriend."

"He is about to see his girlfriend." She tilts her head. The look on her face is so calm it makes my skin prickle. "What's the problem, Aria?"

"The problem is that I just watched you kiss someone else."

"You watched two people have a conversation." She examines her nails. "You interpreted it."

"Chloe ,"

"You should really be more careful about what you think you see." She looks up. Her eyes are pale blue, almost colorless, and the expression in them is perfectly pleasant in the way that surgical instruments are perfectly clean. "You follow him around like a stray dog hoping for scraps. It's exhausting to watch."

My hands are shaking. I press them flat against my sides. "Don't change the subject ,"

"I'm not changing anything." She steps closer, and she's not tall but she moves like she owns every inch of space she occupies. "I'm telling you something useful. Liam is an Alpha. A Blackwood Alpha, which means he's going to end up with someone from a real bloodline, someone with status, someone who fits his world." She lets that sit for a moment. "You're an Omega with no pack affiliation. You're sweet. You're helpful. You're a very good little assistant." Her smile sharpens at the edges. "But you are not, and will never be, someone he actually wants."

I don't answer. I don't trust what would come out.

"And just so we're clear ," She steps back, smoothing down her jacket. His jacket. "Alpha dorms are restricted to invited guests and pack members. Which you're not." The smile doesn't waver. "So if you were thinking about running to tell him something... you'd want to make sure you have an invitation first."

She turns and walks toward the east path , toward the Alpha dormitory, toward Liam , without another word.

I stand by the fountain.

The guy from Shadowridge has already disappeared.

The water keeps running behind me, utterly indifferent.

My wolf is growling so low and steady it feels like a vibration in my sternum rather than a sound.

She's going to get away with it, she says. Unless you do something.

I turn and walk back toward the Omega residential block, and with every step my jaw gets tighter and my resolve gets clearer, and by the time I push through my own building's door, I have exactly one thought running on a loop:

I am going to find a way to tell him the truth.