4: Rules of Engagement

Sofia POV

I didn't sleep that night. Coach Peter had said he'd have something for the board within two days, and I spent most of that stretch replaying the panel room instead of resting, trying to guess which version of the story my father would rather believe.

The proposal came together faster than I expected, mostly because Coach Peter didn't wait for the board to ask twice. Behind-the-scenes footage, nothing scripted, cameras on training, clips for the team's socials content the team was already budgeting for anyway, just aimed now at the story everyone was already talking about. It went out that afternoon. The board approved it the next morning, on the condition that Priya's team signed off on every clip before it went anywhere.

"Give her the season to prove herself, on camera and off it," was the line Coach used to close the email. I read it four times before I let myself believe it had actually worked.

The second I got home from the meeting where it was confirmed, I went straight to my room. Ruby was out I wasn't sure yet whether this news would make her happy or hurt her, since I still didn't know where she really stood. The door shut behind me, my bag dropped to the floor, and the whole week finally caught up with me at once.

I wondered what would be happening right now if Jay had said no. I walked straight into the shower to rinse the tension of it off me, and when I was done I stood in front of the mirror for a second longer than I needed to, steadying myself the way I always had to before anything hard.

Then I picked up my phone and wrote out the rules  the terms that would keep whatever this was from turning into something neither of us signed up for.

**Rules:**

1. No catching feelings.

2. No interfering in each other's personal lives.

3. No lying to each other.

4. No kissing.

I sent it to the number Jay had given me before I could second-guess it  the last rule mattered most. I wasn't giving my first kiss to a stranger, whatever else this arrangement turned out to be.

I put my phone down immediately, not sure how he'd respond. Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

Jay: Fair. Though I feel like rule 4 should go without saying.

Jay: One addition no telling the team this is fake. Except Ken. My best friend  I trust him.

I stared at that one longer than I meant to. Telling Ken specifically felt like a strange thing to specify, but I let it go. I had enough rules of my own to worry about.

Sofia: Deal. Hope we won't regret telling him.

Jay: Wouldn't dream of it.

I was still looking at the message when the front door opened and Ruby's voice carried down the hall, keys hitting the bowl by the door the way they always did.

"Sofia? You home?"

I came out to find her already scrolling her phone, and from the way her face changed I knew she'd seen it before I could explain any of it myself.

"Is this real?" She held the screen up  the headline, the photo, all of it. "You and wait, the captain? Since when?"

"Since about six hours ago, technically." I told her the short version: the leak, the board, the ultimatum, the arrangement. I watched her face while I said it, still not sure if I was looking for relief or guilt, and got neither. Just Ruby, listening the way she always did, quiet until I was finished.

"So it's fake," she said finally.

"It's fake."

"Okay." She nodded slowly, like she was filing it somewhere. "Okay. As long as you're not actually—"

"I'm not," I said, too quickly, and she raised an eyebrow but let it go.

For a second I almost asked her the question I'd been sitting on for two months — about Adrian, about the office, about everything I'd overheard and never said out loud. It was right there. I let it pass instead. One disaster at a time.

****

I woke up to an email from Coach our first meeting with the content manager who'd be helping us keep the whole relationship believable on camera.

I got there a little late. Jay was already waiting, along with a woman introduced as Priya, who ran the team's social accounts and, apparently, was now running ours too. She had a folder with both our names on it and didn't waste time on pleasantries.

"The goal is simple," she said, sliding two coffees across the table without asking what either of us drank. "You look like two people who like each other. Not performing it, living it. Cameras pick up on performance. So the first thing we're doing is making sure you actually know each other, in case anyone asks a question we haven't scripted for."

She ran us through it like a drill  full names, hometowns, favorite colors, food, the kind of trivia real couples know without thinking. Jay's answers came quick and flat, like he'd rehearsed being unreadable his whole life. Mine came slower. I kept catching myself trying to remember if I was answering as myself or as whoever this version of me was supposed to be.

"Good enough," Priya said eventually, closing the folder. "Ice next. Let's get you two seen."

I followed Jay out to the rink to be officially introduced to the team on a day I'd wanted for as long as I could remember, and somehow it still managed to make me nervous, for reasons that had nothing to do with hockey.

Coach introduced me as the new coach, and as Jay's girlfriend. I understood without being told to keep the rest of the truth between the two of us  the fewer people who knew, the less chance of getting caught.

As soon as the introductions were done, a little whispering started down the line, but Jay kept catching my eye, a small shake of his head. *Don't worry about it.*

"All right," Coach Peter said, already walking backward toward the boards. "First practice with your new coach. Let's see what she's got."

Practice was already loud by the time I got the whiteboard set up, pads hitting boards, someone's music still playing from a phone somewhere near the bench. I called the drill anyway.

"Breakout, weak side first. I want the D pulling it up the wall before the forwards even move."

Half the line ran it. The other half ran what they always ran  strong side first, same as they'd probably done under Coach Peter for years. Ken was one of them.

"That's not how we run it," he said, skating back into position, not unkind about it, just certain.

"I know how you run it. Run mine once."

He looked at Jay, like he was checking whether this was worth the argument. Jay didn't say anything. Ken shrugged and skated it my way.

It broke down exactly like I knew it would for about four seconds. Then the weak-side D found the gap Coach Peter's system never opened, and Ken was through center with nobody within ten feet of him. He didn't say anything when he came back around. Just looked at me for a second, then nodded once and lined up to run it again.

"Again," I said. "Whole line this time."

Nobody argued after that.

I caught Jay watching from the boards, not saying a word, the corner of his mouth doing something he clearly didn't want it to do.

***

After the drills wrapped, one of the players broke off from the group and skated over. "Hey, Sofia. I'm Ken Jay's best friend. Nice to finally meet you properly." Easy grin, like he'd been looking forward to it more than the drill had let on. It caught me off guard enough that I felt myself flush, which didn't make any sense given everything else going on that day. I filed the reaction away without looking at it too closely, and told myself it was nothing.

I wasn't sure where any of this was leading, but for the first time in a long time, I was curious enough to find out.

Buzz buzz.

A message from Dad: *Nice game you are playing at. Come home now.*

For the first time in years, his message didn't land the way it used to. I put the phone back in my bag and didn't answer.