CHAPTER 5

“You want us to do what?” Adrian stared at Coach like he’d just grown a second head.

Coach didn’t flinch. “Youth clinic. This Saturday. You and Carter are co-hosting.”

Adrian looked to Julian, who was slouched in his seat with one brow raised like this was news to him, too.

Coach’s eyes flicked between them. “You two need to figure out how to work together before you ruin more practices. The kids will love it. You’ll fake it for an hour. Everyone wins.”

Julian opened his mouth—probably to say something smug—but Adrian beat him to it. “This is punishment.”

“This is team-building,” Coach corrected. “Be there at nine. Sharp.”

**

Adrian regretted showing up the second he walked into the rink that Saturday morning. The lobby was swarming with kids in oversized jerseys and too-big helmets, parents with coffee cups and phone cameras ready to capture every second.

Julian was already on the ice, crouching beside a wide-eyed six-year-old, tying their skates like he’d been born for it.

Of course he’s good with kids, Adrian thought bitterly. Golden boy strikes again.

Julian looked up and met his eyes through the glass. Smiled.

Adrian wanted to turn around and walk out.

Instead, he strapped on his skates and joined the circus.

**

The first thirty minutes went… fine.

If you ignored the fact that Julian kept tossing him patronizing smiles and Adrian corrected every instruction Julian gave—louder and with more authority.

“Bend your knees more,” Julian told one kid gently.

“Or you’ll topple like a deck chair,” Adrian added, not so gently.

Julian shot him a glare.

Adrian smiled, innocent.

It escalated from there.

Julian demonstrated a simple skating drill—Adrian upped the difficulty.

Julian praised a kid’s puck-handling—Adrian stopped them mid-pass and re-demonstrated.

By the end, even the parents were noticing.

Julian’s jaw was clenched tight, but his voice never rose. “We’re not trying to turn them into Olympians today, you know.”

“Maybe they’d learn faster with proper guidance,” Adrian replied.

“Oh, I forgot,” Julian said coolly. “You’re the expert in teamwork.”

Adrian stepped closer. “You really want to do this here?”

Julian stared at him. “You tell me.”

Before the tension could boil over, one of the kids slipped mid-turn, colliding into Julian’s leg. Julian stumbled—and fell backward, hard, taking Adrian down with him.

It should’ve hurt. Probably did. But Adrian was too stunned to react.

Julian was under him, blinking up with a half-winded laugh. “Well. That’s one way to break the ice.”

Adrian didn’t move. Their chests were almost touching, breath coming quick from the fall.

For a second, the world quieted.

Adrian saw the flicker of something real in Julian’s expression—surprise, maybe. Or curiosity.

Then it was gone.

Adrian pushed himself up and offered a hand without thinking. Julian took it.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the clinic.

**

Afterwards, the locker room was quiet. No one else around. Just the two of them, stripping off skates and gear.

“You gonna bite my head off again?” Julian asked without looking up.

Adrian shrugged. “Depends. You planning to breathe near me?”

Julian chuckled under his breath. “You’re exhausting.”

“Glad to return the favor.”

A pause.

Julian finally glanced at him. “You ever think maybe we’re more similar than you want to admit?”

Adrian scoffed. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Right. Because I smile for cameras and you scowl for sport.”

Adrian didn’t answer.

Julian leaned back against the bench, gaze softening. “You hate what you think I represent. But you don’t actually know me.”

Adrian’s eyes flicked to Julian’s hand as he flexed it—there was a small scar along his knuckle. Faint, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking.

“How’d you get that?” Adrian asked before he could stop himself.

Julian followed his gaze. “Oh. Broke it punching a locker in high school. Coach made me play the next game with it taped.”

Adrian raised a brow.

Julian shrugged. “Sometimes I lose control, too. Just not where everyone can see.”

Adrian didn’t know what to say to that.

Julian stood, grabbing his bag. “You don’t have to like me. But maybe stop pretending you’ve figured me out.”

And then he was gone.

**

That night, Adrian lay in bed, staring at his phone screen. MidnightViper had posted again.

He clicked play.

“You ever feel like you’re playing a role someone else wrote?

Like your own voice got lost somewhere in the performance?”

The camera was angled just enough to obscure most of the face. Shadows fell over the mouth, the jaw. But the voice—that damn voice—was doing things to him again.

It was calm, confident, tinged with a vulnerability that burrowed under Adrian’s skin.

“There’s freedom in being anonymous. In letting someone see the version of you you’re too scared to show the world.”

Adrian paused the video.

His eyes dropped to the hand visible on-screen—loosely holding the hoodie sleeve, knuckles curled just enough to show a scar.

Same hand. Same scar.

His stomach dropped.

No. No way.

He backed up the video. Froze the frame. Zoomed.

His pulse thudded in his ears.

That couldn’t be Julian Carter. It was impossible.

Except… it wasn’t.

Everything was lining up. The voice. The mannerisms. The damn scar.

Adrian sat frozen, staring at the paused video.

He clicked over to Viper’s page.

Opened the message box.

Typed.

“Ever break your hand punching a locker?”

He stared at it.

Deleted it.

Typed again.

“You ever feel like someone’s getting too close?”

He hovered over the send button.

Did nothing.

Eventually, he just shut off the screen and tossed the phone across the bed.

But he couldn’t stop hearing the voice.

Couldn’t stop picturing Julian.

And worst of all—

He didn’t know which one he was more drawn to.

The enemy he hated.

Or the fantasy he was falling for.