Fake Hearts On Ice

“You don’t get it, Ava. You never get it,” I snapped at my best friend, my voice already fraying even though the night hadn’t officially started.

Ava Reed didn’t even look up from her phone as I spoke. She just lay sprawled across her bed in her oversized hoodie, hair piled into a careless bun, one sock missing, scrolling like the fate of the universe wasn’t currently pressing down on my chest. 

Our room smelled like vanilla body spray, instant noodles, and the faint chemical bite of disinfectant wipes the hall porter had overused earlier that afternoon. Outside, someone down the corridor blasted music that vibrated through the thin walls, bass thudding like a that of a baby volcano.

“It’s a party, Lila,” she finally said lazily. “ Just a hockey team party. You’ll survive.”

I stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of my skirt like it had personally betrayed me. 

My reflection stared back, too aware, too sharp-eyed, already imagining everything that could go wrong tonight. The fairy lights above my desk flickered, one bulb dying mid-blink, and somehow that felt symbolic in a way I didn’t want to think of. 

“You say that because you’re not going,” I said with gritted teeth. “You’re sick and you get to stay here wrapped in blankets pretending nothing matters.”

Ava finally glanced at me, brow creasing. “Even if I wasn't sick, I would not see the party as a big deal. I don't see any reason why you should.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I shot back. “Because you have a boyfriend. So it does not bother you.”

She groaned and dropped her phone on her chest. “You are spiraling, Lila. Take a moment to breathe.”

She was not just getting it at all, I thought as I turned away from the mirror before I could cry. 

I hated how fast it came to that, how emotions lined up at the edge of my throat like they were waiting for permission. 

The Freshers Welcome Party was supposed to be fun. 

Everyone said so. 

Posters had been plastered across campus for weeks, glossy flyers taped to the student center doors, countdowns scribbled on whiteboards in dorm halls. Hockey boys. Music. Lights. Couples already planning outfits together, laughing about who would take pictures and who would get drunk first.

And then there was me.

Twenty years old. No boyfriend. No plus-one. Just the quiet, gnawing fear of standing alone in a room full of people who looked like they belonged.

“It’s not just a party,” I said, softer now. “It’s… everything. It’s first impressions. It’s people asking who you came with. It’s standing there while everyone pairs off like it’s instinct.”

Ava sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Lila, nobody is keeping score.”

“They always are,” I said. “You just don’t notice because you’re never on the losing side.”

That stung both of us. I saw it in her eyes, the flash of hurt before she masked it with annoyance.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “Let’s say you go alone. Worst case, you get bored and leave early. Best case, you dance, drink too much punch, and forget why you were stressed.”

“And middle case?” I asked.

She hesitated.

“Middle case,” she said, “you meet someone.”

I laughed in response. “Meet someone doing what, Ava? Guarding the wall with my drink like a hostage negotiator?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic right now.”

“I’m realistic,” I replied quickly.

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again when a cough wracked her body. I felt a flicker of guilt but it drowned quickly under the familiar weight of insecurity pressing down on me.

“I just don’t want to feel invisible,” I admitted, staring at my hands. My fingers worried at a loose thread on my sleeve. “Not tonight.”

Ava spoke after she was done coughing. “You’re not invisible.”

“Tonight I will be,” I said. “Everyone else will have someone. Even the people who broke up last week are still pretending. And I’ll just be… there.”

The room fell quiet except for the music down the hall and the distant sound of laughter drifting in from the quad. 

Freshers were already heading out, already dressed, already feeling confident about the party. 

And then, there was me…

“I hate that you feel like this,” Ava said as she looked at my frustrated features. “But a boyfriend for one night won’t fix it.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But it will help.”

She sighed deeply as if she was tired of the conversation already. “What are you saying then? What's the plan?”

I didn’t answer because something shifted in my chest, sudden and electric, the kind of idea that felt reckless the moment it formed. I grabbed my jacket and bag.

“I need air,” I said.

“Lila, don’t—”

I was already out the door before she could finish. 

The campus at dusk buzzed with energy, that restless pre-party hum that made everything feel louder and brighter. String lights had been hung between trees near the student center, glowing softly as the sky darkened. Groups clustered together, laughter spilling freely, phones already out for pictures. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and walked with no real destination. I just wanted to be away from the room where my thoughts felt too loud.

I cut through the quieter path near the humanities building, the one lined with benches and notice boards cluttered with flyers for poetry readings, club meetings, and political society debates. 

A poster flapped loose in the wind, edges peeling, and I stopped to smooth it back down out of habit.

“You’re fighting a losing battle,” a voice suddenly said from behind me.

I startled, spinning around. “What?”

It was a guy who was relaxing l against the notice board opposite me, arms crossed, lips curved in an easy smile like he knew exactly what effect it had on women. 

He was tall, had broad shoulders and dark hair that looked deliberately messy. He wore a fitted black jacket and jeans that probably cost more than my entire outfit and he looked like he belonged in places I only ever passed through.

“The posters,” he said, nodding at the board. “They always peel off again.”

“Oh,” I said dumbly. “Right.”

Silence stretched, not awkward exactly but somewhat charged. He studied me openly, gaze flicking from my face to my jacket like he was reading a book he already liked.

“You look like you’re running from something,” he said.

I laughed before I could stop myself. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only because I do the same thing,” he replied. “Parties freak me out.”

I blinked hard at that. “You?”

He grinned in response. “Shocking, I know.”

I glanced past him, half-expecting someone to jump out and laugh but there was no one else around. 

Just us and the low hum of campus noise in the distance.

“I’m Jake,” he said, pushing off the board and offering his hand.

“Lila,” I replied, shaking it. His grip was warm, confident. I liked it. 

“So,” Jake said, rocking back on his heels. “What are you avoiding?”

“The hockey team’s Freshers party,” I admitted. “You?”

“The same,” he said. “Too many expectations. Too many eyes.”

I studied him, disbelief creeping in. “You look like the kind of person people expect to be there.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

We fell into conversation easily after that, the kind that surprised me with how natural it felt. We talked about random things. Classes. How awful the dining hall food was. The way the campus library always smelled like old paper and burnt coffee. He teased me about my literature major, I mocked his business courses, and somehow it all felt light, unforced.

It felt awesome.

He knew he was attractive. That much was obvious. He moved closer when he spoke, eyes bright, smile flirtatious, and I was painfully aware of the way people passing by glanced at him, then at me, then away again.

And suddenly, out of the moon, an idea crystallized fully in my head.

“What if,” I said slowly, my heart starting to race as I did so, “you came to the party with me?”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Like… together?”

“Just for the night,” I rushed on to say. “Nothing serious. Just… us pretend that we are a couple for the party.”

He studied me, something calculating flickering behind his eyes before he masked it with amusement. “Pretend to be your boyfriend. Hmm. Interesting.”

“Yeah. Quite.”

There was silence at first as he studied me while I tried so damn hard not to look nervous.

“That’s a bold ask,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “You can say no.”

He tilted his head. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll buy you drinks,” I said quickly. “Food. Whatever you want.”

He laughed. “I don’t need free drinks, Lila.”

I swallowed as my face flamed with embarrassment. “Then… think of it as helping a girl not feel like an idiot for one night.”

He looked at me for a long moment, gaze dropping to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “You really care that much, don't you?.”

His question reminded me of Ava’s words from earlier. Still I nodded and replied, “More than I want to.”

Before he could answer, my phone buzzed. Ava’s name flashed on the screen.

“Where are you?” she demanded the moment I answered.

“Out,” I said curtly. “I met someone tonight.”

There was a pause. Then, “What do you mean you met someone tonight?”

“I mean… someone who might help.”

Jake smirked beside me, clearly hearing enough to piece things together.

“Help?” Ava asked, sounding confused. “I don't get it.”

I sighed. “Help me by acting as a boyfriend for tonight's party. I meant it when I said I can't go alone.”

“No,” Ava said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know—”

“I don’t care,” she cut in. “This is a terrible idea. What if Mason finds out? Are you fucking crazy?”

“Mason doesn’t run my life,” I said, anger flaring. “And this isn’t about him.”

“It is when you drag a stranger into it,” she said heatedly. “You could make him angry.”

“I don’t care,” I said, surprising myself with how true it felt. “I’m tired of letting people run my life. I want to do what I like.”

She sighed heavily. “Lila…”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s just one night.”

“Just… be careful,” she said finally when she realised she couldn't convince me to do otherwise. “Please.”

I hung up before she could say more and turned back to Jake.

“So,” he said. “Your friend hates it.”

“She always does,” I replied with a grim smile. I hated that Ava had nearly ruined everything. I fluttered my lashes are him, hoping that the phone call had not turned him off. “What do you think?”

He considered me, his eyes looking serious now. “If we do this, it’s clear terms. No too much expectations and no drama.”

I nodded. “Agreed.”

“And you don’t bail halfway through.”

“I won’t.”

“And,” he added, stepping closer, “you treat me like I’m real. No flinching when I touch you like the way a boyfriend would.”

My pulse thudded in response. “I can do that.”

He smiled then, slow and dangerous. “Alright, Lila. Let’s make a deal.”

I pulled out my notebook from my bag, hands trembling as I flipped to a blank page. “We should… write it down.”

Jake laughed, delighted. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I am.”

He took the pen from me and relaxed against the bench, writing quickly, confidently. When he handed it back, the words stared up at me, absurd and thrilling all at once.

Fake boyfriend agreement. One night. No feelings. No complications.

I signed my name, heart pounding, and handed it back to him.

Jake signed beneath mine and looked up, eyes dark with mystery.

“So darling,” he said, folding the paper carefully before grinning at me. “When do we start?”