Fake Dating the Defenseman Next Door (Soltero Beach Scorpions Hockey #1)

17. Angela

seventeen

Angela

I expected to feel angry and bitter walking through Soltero Beach High, but as I pass the old, familiar halls, I find myself recalling key memories. Most of them good ones.

Here was the locker that Nina and I used to hide behind and check out guys from the water polo team.

There was the place where band used to practice, and where I’d first met Tiffany during band camp.

That classroom was where Solymar and I had gotten caught passing notes and had suffered the indignation of having the teacher read its contents aloud to the class.

I point them all out to Diego as we make our way to the multi-purpose room, but when we pass the stadium, I fall silent.

There, on the top bleachers of the 50-yard line, I’d let Grant Reed kiss me in secret after a homecoming game in my sophomore year. He’d groped me in the darkness while trailing a wet, sloppy kiss down my neck. But when his hand snaked under my sweatshirt and flipped the button on my jeans, I said no.

Grant persisted. Insisting that he knew my friends and I considered him the hottest boy in school thanks to that stupid note that’d been confiscated, and he thought I was cute. So wasn’t this—wasn’t he— what I wanted?

I’d panicked. Sprang to my feet, skittered down the row and stammered out a no before I fled.

When I came back to school on Monday morning, a twisted version of the story had circulated.

I turn my back to the bleachers and stride under the blue and yellow balloon arch, head held high as we check in at the desk and claim our nametags.

“You okay?” Diego asks, hand sliding down my arm as he wheels me toward the bar for a drink. “You know, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Prove yourself to everyone in here. Face-off against people who made you feel shit about yourself. You don’t owe these people anything.” He reaches over and tucks a stray curl behind my ear. “Remember when you said that your mom didn’t want to be part of your life, so she doesn’t get to take up space in yours? This is no different. The people here you’re trying to show up? Do they really, truly matter? Do you want to give them any more pieces of you when they didn’t deserve you in the first place?”

He’s right. I don’t owe anybody here anything. I could walk out of these doors right now and never look back.

But then, I’d miss out on the chance to reclaim my own power and rewrite my own history. I still wanted the opportunity to stand up for myself and for the girl I had been and not live in fear of some confrontation coming later down the line.

Especially if I’m going to be as brave as I want to be.

Bravery, I decide, starts here.

“You’re right. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. The only people who matter in my life are halmeoni and the women you met in my shop.”

And you , but the words stick in my throat.

“But I want to see old friends, reminisce a bit, and maybe right a wrong or two.” I flash him a smile and pat down the front of his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a flask. Maybe we can spike the punch. I never did come to the homecoming dance or prom, and I heard that was a thing people did.”

“Maybe in the movies,” Diego laughs and makes a tsking noise as he fills two clear cups with the bright red liquid. Murmuring into my ear, his voice sends electricity tripping down my spine. “But, see, I knew you were trouble.”

“Not in the least,” I insist, blinking innocently while biting back a smile.

“If you wanted to make some trouble of our own, we could always sneak away and you can show me where people used to make out or where the mascot uniform is kept. We could steal it and blame it on the rival school.”

I giggle and take a sip. “Is that the kind of student you were? The prankster?”

“I was an angel ,” he says, a mischief pulling at his lips. “Who only pulled off an epic prank or two in my time, but that’s just rumor.”

“Bet you were Mr. Popularity,” I say, grinning. “Big man on campus.”

He inclines his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say I was a big man on campus. I thought it was embarrassing that so many people knew who my dad was, so I mostly stuck to hanging with my teammates. Sometimes people got really weird about who my dad is, but the guys didn’t treat me any differently.”

“You got to be you,” I say, understanding. “Just Diego.”

“Yeah. It was less pressure than being Full Tilt Tony’s only son.”

I squeeze his hand. “You’ve always been just Diego to me.”

“I’m willing to be so much more,” he murmurs, stopping under the glittering lights of the disco ball, heedless of the fact that heads are turning and countless eyes are locking on us.

My heartbeat races as I grip his arm. He’s strong and steady, true and kind.

“I’m scared,” I admit. “I’ve trusted people before and they’ve hurt me or left me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Angie. All I want is the chance to prove that to you.”

With tenderness sparkling in his warm hazel gaze, he captures my mouth in a kiss that I feel like a brand on my heart. It cracks me open from the inside and buoys me up, emotion welling up inside me as powerful as the waves that carry me across the surface of the water when I have my feet firmly planted on a surfboard.

And when the kiss breaks, I’m dazed and disoriented. Entirely wrapped up in this moment with Diego that I forget that we’re standing dead center of the auditorium full of my old classmates.

“Big D!” A booming voice echoes across the room as Grant Reed claps his hands in glee. “Unbelievable catching you twice in a week. What are you doing here? Unless I’m mistaken, you didn’t go to school here.”

I freeze as Diego turns. Drawing a quick, sharp breath, I steel myself to face him. He might not have recognized me the other night in the restaurant, but there will be no hiding in plain sight here.

“Mr. Reed,” Diego says, voice tight. “No, I didn’t come to school here, but my girlfriend did. I’m here as her date.”

He draws me forward, one arm wrapped protectively around my waist and the other giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

Grant turns to me, eyebrows lifting in surprise. While he might not have placed me earlier in the week when we’d crossed paths, there was no taking me out of context now. Satisfaction rolls through me as I note the moment recognition dawns on his face.

In an instant, the shiny veneer of his smile turns brittle under the lights. In place of the open adoration he holds for Diego, there’s a cool, detached smile that slides onto his features. Polite, with no trace of chagrin for what he did to me all those years ago.

“Yes, of course. You’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t recognize you the other night.” he says, extending his hand to me. “I’d heard you’d left town some years ago. How’ve you been?”

My blood turns to ice as I stare at his hand, hanging limply between us like the weak truce offering it is.

“You don’t have to pretend like you care, Grant. Certainly not because you’re hoping to impress my boyfriend.”

His expression goes wooden as he retracts his hand and his gaze flickers to Diego. A sharp, fake laugh bursts from his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel.”

“It’s Angela ,” I snap, absorbing every ounce of strength I can from the feel of Diego’s quiet support behind me. “But that isn’t what you used to call me, is it?”

He clenches his jaw. “That was a joke, Angela. For God’s sake, we were kids! It’s been ten years. Surely, we can put it all behind us now that we’re adults.”

Diego shifts next to me, tightening his grip on my waist.

“Sure,” I say slowly, looking Grant in the eye. There are no nerves, no fear as I gather up the courage that eluded me ten years ago when I was a student wandering through these halls, head down and praying for invisibility. “Let’s pretend you didn’t ruin my time here by ostracizing me, calling me names, and making rude and disparaging remarks about my family and background. Let’s pretend it didn’t impact my grandmother’s business or my mental health. Let’s pretend your actions didn’t have long-standing consequences for everyone else except you.”

Grant’s mouth falls open and an ugly laugh tumbles out.

“You’re crediting me with all that?”

I shrug. “I’m telling you how it was. The truth of what it was like to grow up here as an outsider.”

“If it was so bad here, why’d you bother to come back?” Grant snorts.

My hand curls into a fist as the achingly familiar message of you don’t belong opens up inside me. It sends bristles of irritation racing up my back as pent-up frustration rolls through me, loosening my tongue.

“I ran from this place once because of what you put me through. I won’t do it again. Because whether I like it or not, this is home.” I spread my arms wide, indicating the town beyond the four walls. “My family is here. My friends are here. The man I love is here.”

Diego’s hands convulse on my hips and my eyes go round.

I hadn’t meant to say it. Not out loud, and not to Grant Reed, but there it was.

The truth, spoken plain.

“And I’ll be damned if I let you keep me from any of them.” I grab Diego’s hand and turn to walk off.

“Figures you’d come back and follow after your gold digging mother’s footsteps, Kimchi .”

A shock of white-hot anger burns through me as stand rooted to the spot. My ears burn as gasps sound around me.

“What did you fucking say?” Diego asks. His voice is dark and dangerously low as he lets go of my hand and turns to face Grant.

Grant lifts his chin, eyes hard with disdain as he folds his arms and stares back. “I said what I said. You have to watch out for women like her. Bet her mom taught her everything she knows about attracting men of quality like us.”

“Watch yourself, Mr. Reed.” Diego’s eyes flash and his jaw tenses. “You and I are nothing alike.”

“Sure, we are. Young, rich, available bachelors. We embody all the things this town is known for.” Grant waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “I don’t know how she got her claws into you, Big D. But her kind are always on the look for ways to climb the ladder. Not even sure how you can stand to be with her, man. The one time we kissed, all I could taste was her fermented dinner. Honestly, you could do so much better.”

My eyes slide shut as the humiliation washes over me again. For three years, I was called Spicy Kimchi and endured ridicule, gross propositions, and commentary from a number of other students. They’d taken Grant at his word, adopting his version of events and never once taking the time to ask me about what happened. After all, he’d been popular, attractive, well-liked and respected. His way through life had been paved with all the money and influence provided for him.

And I?

I’d been nobody.

“Her kind ?” Diego repeats, shock and rage radiating off him in waves.

“Let’s go,” I say, clutching at his arm. “He’s not worth it.”

“First of all, I like kimchi,” Diego growls. “It’s a fucking delicious side dish. You clearly have no taste and are incredibly uncultured. Second of all, she’s the granddaughter of a very successful local businesswoman. Not unlike you, except she’s not a racist asshat. A fact I’m sure the organization I work for would be very interested to know. I’m sure they’d sever ties with any brand or company that doesn’t align with our core values.”

I turn to see Grant’s face go splotchy and red at the threat in Diego’s words.

“I’m the team’s largest corporate sponsor,” Grant huffs. “I’m un-fucking-touchable.”

“Mr. Reed,” Diego claps an arm on his shoulder, giving it an uncomfortable squeeze that makes Grant flinch. “You, your family, and your brand have just become radioactive with the comments you’ve just made. Didn’t anyone ever tell you no one likes a bully, much less a racist one?”

“You have no proof.”

“Don’t I?” Diego raises a hand, showing off his recording phone screen while he waves at the throng that have gathered around us including Tiffany, Solymar, and Nina. There are numerous phones pointed in our direction, recording the events as they unfold on the gymnasium floor.

The color drains out of Grant’s face as he takes in our surroundings.

“Fuck this,” he says, pushing his way through the crowd toward the exit.

Around us, a smattering of applause and whistles sound as people step forward, murmuring their thanks and passing on their own experiences of being mocked, teased, and bullied during their time at the school. They call me courageous, inspiring, and ballsy as relief floods my system and Grant practically runs out of the auditorium.

Fingers shaking and brain whirling, I can only offer up a weak smile as my friends close around me. They intercept the crowd as I cross the auditorium feeling like a goddamn prom queen alongside my king.

I’d done it. I’d faced my bully, stood my ground, and proven—even if it was just to myself—that I could.

And as Diego’s fingers interlace with mine, I feel exultant that I didn’t have to do it alone.

That I had someone I love and trust my side.

Someone who was actually worthy of it.

“I meant what I said,” I murmur as we approach the table with our names on the place cards.

“The part about you not letting him run you out of town?”

I glance up at him, those kind, laughing hazel eyes shining with mirth as he draws me into his arms.

“Yes, but also the part where I said I love you,” I repeat softly. “I know I said I wasn’t planning on staying, but when I thought about the reasons why I wanted to leave, they weren’t stronger than the reasons I had to stay. For a long time, I didn’t think this was a place where I could be happy. But renovating halmeoni ’s shop, working the bakery, and being with you have made this place feel like home again. I can’t let bad memories and experiences take it from me.”

“I love you too, sweet Angie. I think I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you standing on my coffee table clutching a Mr. Buckwheat.” Diego leans in, brushing his lips against mine in a gentle, lazy kiss. “But seeing you in the donut shop is when I knew you were mine.”

“Yeah? What made you so sure?”

He grins wide. “Pretty sure it was when you first slipped a spare glazed devil’s food into my box and made me a donut devotee for life.”

I laugh. “Not sure I can take credit for that. Halmeoni was the one who made them. I just gave them to you.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that we have Grandma Grace to thank for a lot more than just making donuts…”

“What do you mean?”

“Grandma Grace was also the reason you came back to town and person who sent me to track you down and beg you for donuts. She’s suggested I bring that bag of goodies, and she made sure we were at her house at the same time for dinner that day I was doing her gardening. Are we sure she wasn’t cookin’ up more than just fried dough?”

My mouth drops open. “Sneaky, sneaky.”

“See?” Diego laughs, “That troublesome streak sure does run in your family…”