Chapter 6

Breaking Our Own Rules

Ethan's Pov

My mouth crashes against hers, and every single rule we ever made turns to ash.

For one blinding second, I forget how to breathe. I forget my own name. I forget that this hallway is concrete and freezing and smells like rubber and old ice, because all I can feel is Sophie's fingers curling into the front of my jacket, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.

I have wanted this for years. Longer than I have let myself admit, even to Mason. And now that I finally have it, I cannot make myself stop.

She kisses me back like she has been starving for it too, and something inside my chest cracks wide open, raw and terrifying and better than anything I have ever felt on the ice.

When we finally break apart, both of us gasping, she stares up at me with wide, glassy eyes, her lips swollen, her whole body trembling.

"Ethan," she whispers. "We broke the rules."

"I know." My voice comes out rough, wrecked. "I don't care anymore, Sophie."

She presses her fingers to her mouth like she is trying to hold the feeling in place, and I watch panic slam into her all at once. "I need to go home," she says, her voice cracking.

Everything in me wants to argue. I want to tell her that whatever just happened between us stopped being fake the second my lips touched hers. But the fear in her eyes is real, and I am not about to push her into something she is not ready for.

"Sophie—"

"Please, Ethan." She steps back, putting cold air between us where my hands used to be. "I cannot think straight right now. I need space."

I do not argue. I drive her home in silence so thick I could choke on it, and when she climbs out of the car without looking back at me, I sit in her driveway for a long time after her apartment light flicks on, replaying the kiss over and over until my chest physically aches.

I do not sleep that night.

The next morning, Mason corners me in the locker room, taking one look at my face before tossing a towel straight at my head. "You look like a man who got hit by a bus," he says, dropping onto the bench beside me. "A good bus, though. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," I mutter, not even bothering to sound convincing.

"Ethan." He gives me the look, the one that says he has known me too long to buy the lie. "We have been best friends since college. I have never once seen you like this after one of your fake dates."

I drag a hand down my face. "I kissed her, Mason."

His eyebrows shoot straight up. "The no-feelings, strictly-business, definitely-not-real fake girlfriend?"

"That one."

"And?"

"And it did not feel fake." The words come out low and rough, like a confession I have been carrying around for weeks. "It has not felt fake in a long time, if I am honest."

Mason leans back against the lockers, studying me with an expression that is somehow both amused and unbearably knowing. "You have had a thing for her since before Ryan even brought her home for the first time. I watched you stare at her across that Christmas party three years ago like a kicked puppy the entire night."

I go still. "I never said anything."

"Because she was dating your brother, and you are annoyingly loyal even to people who do not deserve it," Mason says. "But you noticed her long before any of this fake-dating nonsense started. So stop acting shocked that your own heart finally caught up to your head."

I do not answer, because there is nothing I can say that will make the truth of it any less terrifying. I have wanted Sophie Hart for three years from a careful, respectful distance, telling myself it did not matter because she belonged to Ryan, because wanting my brother's girlfriend made me the villain in a story I never wanted a part of.

She is not his anymore. And I am terrified of exactly how much I want her to be mine.

Marcus finds me an hour later, practically buzzing with excitement.

"The Miller fight, the goal, the way you pointed straight at her in the stands—Ethan, this is gold," he says, grinning wide. "Apex wants both of you at the charity skate next week. Cameras everywhere. Whatever you two are doing, keep doing it."

"Whatever we are doing," I repeat flatly.

"Falling for your fake girlfriend, apparently," Marcus says, laughing at his own joke. "Don't look at me like that. The whole league can see it. Just do not let it blow up in our faces."

I want to tell him it already has.

That evening, my phone buzzes with a text from Sophie. *Claire says Ryan has been asking a lot of questions about us. Be careful. He is up to something.*

A cold, familiar dread settles into my stomach. My brother does not just ask questions. He plans. I type back quickly. *What kind of questions?*

*I don't know yet.*

I stare at the screen for a long moment before I type the only honest thing I have said all week. *Are we really still pretending this is fake? Because I don't think I can anymore.*

The three dots appear, disappear, and appear again before her reply finally comes through.

*I don't know what we're doing anymore. But I know I can't stop thinking about last night.*

Something loosens in my chest, hope and terror crashing through me at the same time. *Good,* I send back. *Because neither can I.*

I set my phone down on the counter and drag both hands through my hair, staring out at the dark city skyline. Somewhere between the fake dates, the charity gala, and a stolen kiss in a freezing hallway, I fell completely for the one woman I was never supposed to want.

And for the first time in years, I have absolutely no intention of fighting it.