The Scripted Sip

Maya POV

Morning in the Thorne Estate didn’t feel like morning. It felt staged.Light poured through the tall windows in clean, expensive lines, landing on polished floors that looked like no one had ever walked on them without permission. Even the silence felt curated. Controlled. Like if I said the wrong thing, the walls would report it.

My phone didn’t stop buzzing.I dragged it off the nightstand and squinted at the screen. Notifications stacked over each other until I couldn’t see the time anymore.

The Spill had posted again.A photo filled the screen before I could even brace for it. High resolution. Perfect timing. Leo’s hand on my waist, my body angled toward him as if I belonged there. His head dipped just enough to suggest something private, something soft and real.

[Northridge Spill]: THE ICE KING’S FORTRESS OPENS. Leo Thorne brings Maya Ellison home. Is this the real deal or the heist of the century?

I let out a short laugh that didn’t sound like mine. “It’s a heist,” I muttered, tossing the phone onto the bed. “And I’m the one being robbed.”

A knock cut through the quiet. Not polite. Sharp. Measured.

“Get dressed, Ellison.”

Leo’s voice came through the connecting door, low and already irritated, as the day had personally offended him.

“We’re doing a ‘candid’ breakfast. Thirty minutes.”

Of course we were.

I pushed myself out of bed, the cold floor biting at my feet. Somewhere between last night and now, this had stopped feeling temporary. The contract sat in my bag like a ticking clock.

By the time I stepped out, dressed and already exhausted, Leo was waiting in the hallway.

He looked… composed. Too composed. Like nothing about this situation touched him.

Hoodie. Dark jeans. Hands in his pockets. The “Ice King” off the ice still knew how to wear control like skin.

“Try not to look like you hate me,” he said without looking at me as we walked.

“I don’t have to try.”

He glanced at me then, brief, sharp. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

The campus café was glass on all sides.

A fishbowl.

The second we stepped in, the noise shifted. Not silence exactly. Just… attention. Like a hundred conversations tripped over themselves at once.

Leo didn’t hesitate. His arm slid around my shoulders like it had always been there.

I stiffened.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips barely moving. “Or we’re dead in ten seconds.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You look like you’re being held hostage.”

“I am being held hostage.”

His grip tightened just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for me to feel it.

“Order,” he said under his breath. “Now.”

“Caramel macchiato. Extra foam. Cinnamon.”

He nodded once and walked to the counter, leaving me at the most visible table in the room.

Of course he would pick that one.

Phones were already out. Not even subtle. A girl near the window pretended to scroll while her camera stayed pointed straight at me.

I stared at the table, counting the seconds.

When Leo came back, he didn’t just hand me the drink. He placed it down carefully, like it mattered.

“Caramel macchiato,” he said, just loud enough. “Extra foam. Cinnamon.”

A pause. Then, softer, like it was just for me.

“Right?”

A ripple moved through the room. Not loud, but there. Recognition. Speculation. Confirmation.

I looked at the cup, then at him. “You memorized it.”

“I listen,” he said, sitting down.

It sounded simple. It didn’t feel simple.

His hand slid over mine on the table. Warm. Steady. Like last night never happened.

Like none of this was fake.

“You’re a good actor,” I whispered.

His eyes flicked to the window again before returning to me. “I’m not acting.”

Something in the way he said it didn’t sit right.

Before I could push, a voice cut through everything.

“Maya. A word. Now.”

I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Chloe.

Leo’s hand slipped away immediately. Gone like it had never been there.

“Go,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle this side.”

Handle it. Like I wasn’t about to lose my best friend over a lie I couldn’t explain.

I stood, every step toward Chloe feeling heavier than the last.

She didn’t wait. Just turned and walked toward the back hallway near the library.

I followed.

The second the door shut behind us, the air changed.

No cameras. No audience.

Just damage.

“How long?”

Her voice shook, but not weak. Controlled anger. The kind that cuts deeper.

“How long have you been lying to me?”

“Chloe”

“No,” she snapped, stepping closer. “Don’t do that thing where you act confused. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Then explain it.”I opened my mouth.Nothing came out.Because the truth wasn’t mine to tell.

“I had a crush on him,” she said, quieter now, but worse somehow. “You remember that? Freshman year? I told you everything.”I did remember.Late nights. Stupid jokes. Her going on about how Leo wasn’t as cold as everyone thought.And me laughing it off. Dismissing it. Saying he wasn’t worth it.

“I told you he was different,” she continued, eyes locked on mine. “And you said he was arrogant. That he didn’t deserve anyone’s time.”

“I meant it.”

“Did you?” Her laugh was sharp. “Because this?” She gestured vaguely, like the whole world outside the door. “This doesn’t look like hate, Maya.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”I stepped forward. She stepped back.That hurt more than anything she’d said.

“I didn’t plan this,” I said, forcing the words out. “I swear to you.”She searched my face like she was trying to find something familiar.

“I thought you were honest,” she said finally. “With me, at least.”

“I am.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one who didn’t know?”

I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t destroy everything.

Her expression shifted. Not anger now. Something worse.Disappointment.

“You’re a better liar than I thought,” she said.

“Chloe”She shook her head. “I just didn’t think I’d be the one you practiced on.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket.I almost ignored it.Almost.Unknown Number: Friends keep secrets. Enemies keep bodies. Which one are you, Maya?