Fake Dates & Ice Skates

JANISHA BOSWELLJanisha Boswell is an eighteen-year-old author who loves romance and sickly-sweet stories that make her feel welcomed and comforted. She was first published in a poetry anthology at just thirteen years old and has now expanded her capabilities into novel writing. Her first published novel, All the Stars and You, was self published in January 2023. Books hold a special place in her life, and they always will. FAKE DATES&ICE SKATESJANISHA BOSWELL Copyright © 2023 Janisha Boswell. Art by Ayela Malik. All rights reserved. ISBN: 9798391771531 This one is for my friends.You can make anywhere feel like a home by simply being around you.WREN & MILES SOUNDTRACKDelicate...........Taylor SwiftHell N Back.............BakarEveryone Adores You (quiet)..........Matt MalteseJump Then Fall (Taylor's Version).........Taylor SwiftGlitter......... BENNESparks........ColdplayPink + White........Frank OceanReckless Driving........ Lizzy McAlpineLost.......Frank OceanSex on Fire.......Kings of LeonVideo Games.......Lana Del ReyGravity......John MayerChristmas Tree Farm......Taylor SwiftCocktails for two.......Betty CarterAt Last.......Etta JamesMovement.......HozierNew Year's Day.........Taylor SwiftSave Your Tears........The WeekndThis is me trying......Taylor SwiftSo it Goes........Taylor SwiftYou Should Know Where I'm Coming From........BANKSWhen The Party's Over.........Billie EilishGilded Lily......CultsFlying........Cody FryThe Feels.........LabrinthWe Are Young...........fun. Glue Song (feat. Clairo)..........beabadoobeeMatilda.......Harry Styles Ivy...... Frank OceanGolden Hour......JVKELover - First Dance Remix.....Taylor SwiftFine Line......Harry StylesYou Are in Love......Taylor Swift CHAPTER 1WREN“Sorry, could you repeat that?” I ask again in a small voice, hoping that pretending I can’t hear them means that this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening, right?When I was told I had a meeting with the dean and Coach Darcy, I thought maybe I was getting an award. A well done for not losing your shit at your stupid ex-boyfriend / partner for fucking up your routine, handed to me with an oversized trophy and a bouquet of flowers. “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” I’d respond coyly with a dashing smile. I would love to see that on a trophy. Or something along those lines. But no. Instead, I'm getting some really sucky news.“Wren, that’s the third time you’ve said that today. Are you okay?” Coach asks in her thick French accent. Her words almost fly right over my head. I can see sympathy taking over her expression as her deep-set brown eyes flicker with worry. She probably thinks I'm insane. Honestly, it feels like I'm slowly getting there.“Yes, I'm fine. Just…adjusting,” I reply, looking around the office at the ugly brown furniture that I have grown to loathe. I always get chills when I come in here. It has an unwelcoming ambience, and it is always too cold. Something unnerving lingers in the air as I try not to focus on it.“You won’t need to adjust to anything if you find a plan to work around this. It’s just a misstep. That’s all,” Coach explains with a warm smile. I return the smile, but I can feel mine wobble.The ‘misstep’ that she’s referring to is the fact that I might not be able to skate anymore after our Winter Showcase in December. North University in Salt Lake City, comically located in the south, is famously known for its hockey team and figure skaters. Naturally, being a winter city, people gravitated towards our winter sports more than anything. We enter the championships every year like all the other colleges, but we also host seasonal events for the students and wider community. Although we have a rink each for the hockey and the skaters, people have taken much more of an interest in the hockey team than us.We only have five skaters left on our team after most of them dropped skating to do a full major or just left all together. Last year, each competition and each event were met with enthusiasm from the students and the community but after Augustus and I got into the regional championships and lost horrifically, no one has batted an eye at us since. I was shunned and embarrassed, not ready to brave another competition or performance. The school run the events and the team purely on ticket prices and charitable donations since it’s been loved for so many generations but if no one turns up then we’re out of funds; meaning our rink can easily be handed over to the hockey team. The other skaters have lost their passion and as much as I’d hate to admit it, I am too.I double major with Creative Writing but dropping skating would mean admitting defeat to my mom, NU alma mater and previous figure skater, which is the last thing I can do.“How are you expecting me to fix this? It shouldn’t be my responsibility to keep the courses that you teach afloat,” I snap, not sure how my tone climbed up so fiercely. I take in a deep breath, trying to regain my cool. I want to skate again, not get kicked out.“It’s a joint effort,” the dean says.I turn to look at her but her dense expression makes my stomach turn. Even when she looks defeated and angry, she still looks beautiful. Irritatingly so. Her bone structures are strong; telling stories that you want to hear so badly, constantly drawing people in. “We’re doing everything we can on our end, you need to do the same. You will need to create some sort of buzz around it and people will start turning up again. It should be easy if you really care about skating.”That’s just the thing. I don’t.Not as much as I used to. My mom has loved figure skating her whole life because her mom forced her into it. After she got pregnant with Austin, she tried to get back into skating, but she was injured in a minor car accident and her knee has not been the same since. She was on the road to recovery just before I was born and threw that idea out of the window. Austin was supposed to skate too, but she never got used to dancing on the ice, so she has been training her whole life to be a professional ballet dancer. The next best thing. It has always been skating and nothing else. School was always seen as