Chapter 4

Too Close

Ethan’s Pov

The sound of Ryan slamming his palms down on our restaurant table is loud enough to make the crystal glasses rattle.

"You can’t seriously be dating my ex," Ryan snarls, his face twisting into an ugly, furious mask. Spit actually flies from his mouth, and his new fiancée clings to his arm like a frightened little bird, looking around to see if anyone else is watching their childish meltdown.

I do not even blink. I keep my expression cool, calm, and completely unbothered, leaning back in my chair while letting my arm drape lazily over the back of Sophie’s seat. My fingers brush gently against her warm shoulder, and I feel her tense up beside me.

"Try to keep your voice down, little brother," I say smoothly, giving him a lazy, mocking smile that I know drives him crazy. "People are trying to eat. And to answer your dumb question? Yes, I am dead serious."

Ryan’s chest heaves up and down like he has just run a marathon. He glares at Sophie, his eyes practically shooting laser beams. "Sophie, what is wrong with you? Are you out of your mind? He is just using you to get under my skin!"

Sophie does not shrink away like she used to do whenever Ryan raised his voice. Instead, she lifts her chin, her dark eyes flashing with pure fire. She turns her body just a little bit closer to mine, resting her hand right over my forearm.

"He is not using me, Ryan," Sophie says, her voice steady and sweet, though I can feel her pulse racing wildly against my skin. "Unlike some people I used to know, Ethan actually treats me with respect. Now, if you do not mind, we are in the middle of a date."

Ryan looks like someone just hit him right between the eyes with a hockey puck. He opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He realizes right then and there that he has lost all control over the situation, and more importantly, he has lost control over her. With a humiliated grunt, he turns on his heel and storms out of the restaurant, dragging his miserable fiancée behind him.

As soon as they disappear through the glass doors, I let out a low, quiet chuckle. A warm wave of satisfaction rushes through my chest. Watching Ryan lose his cool like that is better than winning the championship game.

I turn my head to look at Sophie. She is blowing out a massive breath, her shoulders sagging as the heavy tension finally drains out of her.

"You really enjoy this, don't you?" she accuses me, narrowing her eyes playfully as she picks up her fork. "You love pushing his buttons."

"I am just playing my part, babe," I tease back, keeping my voice low and smooth so the reporters hiding near the bar think we are whispering sweet nothings. "And you have to admit, you played your part pretty well too. You almost had me convinced."

Sophie rolls her eyes, but a genuine smile breaks across her face, making her look softer and more radiant than I have ever seen her. She looks down at her plate, quiet for a moment, before she looks back up at me. Her expression changes, turning serious and soft.

"Thank you, Ethan," she whispers softly, her thumb tracing a tiny circle on the back of my hand. "Really. For tonight. For standing up to him. I know you did not have to do this."

My chest tightens. A strange, heavy heat settles deep inside me, right around my ribs. Her sincerity hits me harder than any check I have ever taken on the ice. She is looking at me with so much trust in her eyes, and suddenly, the little warning bell in the back of my head starts ringing loudly. This is supposed to be fake, I remind myself. Don't forget the rules.

"Don't mention it," I murmur, clearing my throat to chase away the sudden lump that formed there. "Come on. Finish your food. There is somewhere else I want to take you."

An hour later, my sleek car pulls through the security gates of the city’s main sports complex. The parking lot is totally empty, dark, and quiet. I lead Sophie through the heavy back doors of the hockey arena, guiding her down the concrete hallways until we step out right into the massive, freezing bowl of the stadium.

The overhead fluorescent lights are dimmed, casting long, spooky shadows across the thick sheets of white ice. The air is biting cold, carrying that familiar, sharp smell of rubber, sweat, and melting frost.

Sophie pulls her jacket tighter around herself, her breath puffing out in little white clouds. "Why are we here, Ethan? What is this?"

"If we are going to keep playing this crazy game together, you need to see where I spend half my life," I say, walking over to the bench and grabbing my stick and helmet. "You only ever see me when I am angry at galas or fighting with my brother. You need to see the real me."

She sits down on the wooden player’s bench, wrapping her arms around her knees as she watches me step out onto the ice. The moment my skates hit the frozen surface, everything changes. The heavy weight on my shoulders, the stress from my sponsors, the anger at my family—it all melts away.

I pick up a few pucks and start skating drills, moving faster and harder, carving deep arcs into the ice. I push myself to the absolute limit, stickhandling with furious energy, firing slap shots straight into the back of the empty net with a loud, satisfying bang that echoes through the empty stadium.

From the bench, Sophie watches me in total silence. Her wide eyes track my every move, taking in the raw power, the speed, and the fierce focus that I never show anyone outside these walls.

After twenty minutes of skating until my lungs burn, I finally skate over to the boards, lean my forearms against the glass, and look down at her. My chest is heaving, and sweat drips down my forehead.

"Well?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Are you terrified yet?"

Sophie stands up from the bench and walks slowly toward the glass, right where I am standing. Her expression is unreadable, filled with a quiet, deep understanding.

"No," she says softly, her voice carrying across the cold air. "I am not terrified. But I finally understand why you are always so angry all the time. You carry the whole world on your shoulders out there."

Her words land like a physical blow. Nobody has ever looked at me and figured me out that fast. Without thinking, I push open the penalty box door, stepping off the ice and walking right up to her until we are standing just inches apart in the narrow hallway.

The playful teasing between us evaporates instantly. The heavy, electric tension fills the empty space between our bodies, thick and suffocating.

"You should be careful, Sophie," I whisper, my voice dropping dangerously low as I look down into her dark, wide eyes. "You are getting way too good at reading me."

"And you are getting way too good at playing the caring boyfriend," she shoots back, though her voice is trembling, and she doesn't take a single step backward. "Remember our rules, Ethan. No real feelings. This is just an act."

"I know the rules," I breathe out, staring down at her lips, which are parted just slightly. My heart is pounding harder than it did during the entire hockey practice. The distance between us shrinks until there is barely any air left to breathe.

My hand lifts on its own, my fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from her cheek. Her skin is so soft, and she shivers slightly at my touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a second.

I lean in closer, drawn by a gravity I cannot fight, my gaze locking onto her mouth. I want to taste her. I want to forget the fake dating, the rules, my brother, and everything else in the world.

Just as my lips are a hair’s breadth away from hers, the sudden reality of what I am doing crashes over my brain like a cold shower. I freeze. I force my muscles to lock, stopping myself right on the edge of the cliff.

Slowly, painfully, I pull my hand away and take a hard step backward into the shadows of the hallway.

I step back and say, “We agreed there would be no kissing.”