CHAPTER 6

Adrian couldn’t unsee it.

The scar. The voice. The posture. The soft rasp at the end of a laugh. The hoodie pulled low. The way MidnightViper leaned against his desk in the newest video—head tilted, lip caught between his teeth, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

Julian Carter did that exact same thing.

He’d seen it after practice, in the locker room, when Julian thought no one was looking.

Adrian had replayed the video four times. No, five.

He slammed his laptop shut and leaned back against the pillows, fingers pressed to his temple like he could squeeze the thoughts out of his head. This was insane. He was spiraling.

MidnightViper couldn’t be Julian. There was no way someone like Carter—golden boy, team sweetheart, hockey’s favorite PR angel—would moonlight as a faceless OnlyFans creator who whispered confessions into the camera like he was peeling his soul open.

Except… what if he was?

**

At practice the next day, Julian was quiet.

Not silent—Julian never was—but off. His usual chirping was more like background noise, lacking its usual sharpness. He barely glanced Adrian’s way.

Adrian noticed. And he hated that he noticed.

More than that—he hated the part of him that wanted Julian to act strange, like it would confirm something.

He wasn’t playing like himself either. Missed two passes, lost the puck in a drill. Coach barked at him. Adrian tuned it out.

“Yo, you good?” one of the guys, Nate, asked, clapping Julian on the back.

Julian muttered, “Yeah, just didn’t sleep.”

Another lie. Or was it?

Adrian watched him skate to the bench, pull off his gloves, and flex his right hand—the one with the faint scar across the knuckle. He’d seen that same flex in Viper’s last stream, the same knuckle.

It was driving him insane.

**

Later that night, the team gathered at Jesse’s house for a casual hangout—pizza, cheap beer, video games blasting from the living room. Adrian wasn’t in the mood, but showing up was better than staying home alone with his thoughts.

Julian was already there when he arrived, perched on the kitchen counter with a slice of pizza in one hand and a half-assed smile on his face. He was holding court, of course, entertaining a few girls from the volleyball team with one of his dramatic stories about almost getting expelled in high school. His voice was bright, animated—but his eyes looked elsewhere.

Adrian didn’t realize he was staring until someone bumped his arm.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Jesse said, handing him a drink.

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not when Julian’s around.”

Adrian shot him a look. Jesse laughed and walked off.

Julian hopped down from the counter and made his way to the fridge, brushing past Adrian in the process.

“You stalking me now?” Julian asked, low enough for only him to hear.

Adrian blinked. “What?”

Julian opened a soda and didn’t look at him. “You’ve been staring for, like, ten minutes. Want a picture?”

“Do you always assume people are obsessed with you?”

Julian took a sip, smirking faintly. “Not always. Just usually right.”

Adrian didn’t bite. But when Julian turned to leave, he said, “You ever say something and immediately regret it?”

Julian paused. Glanced over his shoulder. “Only when it matters.”

Something tightened in Adrian’s chest.

That phrase—it was almost word-for-word what MidnightViper had posted two nights ago in a now-deleted tweet. He remembered it because it had hit him in the gut.

He stepped forward. “Where’d you hear that?”

Julian turned. “What?”

“That phrase. Where’d you hear it?”

Julian’s face didn’t change, but his shoulders stiffened. “I don’t know. Just came to me.”

Bullshit.

Adrian stared at him. Julian stared back.

Then, like flipping a switch, Julian’s expression lightened. “You okay, Reed? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

Adrian’s voice was tight. “I could say the same about you.”

“Maybe we’re both weird,” Julian said with a shrug. “Maybe we spend too much time thinking about each other.”

He walked away before Adrian could answer.

**

Back at the apartment, Adrian was done pretending.

He pulled up MidnightViper’s profile and scrolled. Every little thing—the cadence, the posture, the hand gestures, even the way he sat with one knee up when he was on camera—it all aligned.

He went back to one of the earliest videos, when the lighting was darker and the voice less polished. There was a moment, maybe ten seconds in, where Viper had laughed. It was off-script, real, unexpected.

Adrian played it three times.

It was Julian.

He opened the message box.

Adrian:

“Do you believe in coincidences?”

Nothing for a while.

Then:

MidnightViper:

“Sometimes.”

Adrian hesitated. Then typed again.

Adrian:

“You ever say something and forget you already said it somewhere else?”

There was a long pause.

No typing bubble.

Just silence.

Then:

MidnightViper:

“You’re getting close.”

Adrian’s breath caught.

He stared at the screen, heart pounding, brain screaming.

So it was him.

It had to be.

But why would Julian do this? Why would he hide behind a mask and bare his soul to strangers online—and why the hell did Adrian like it?

Why did he prefer that version of Julian?

The one who whispered secrets instead of sarcasm?

He set his phone down like it burned and paced his room.

He should confront him. Call him out. Blow it all up.

But instead, he found himself opening a new message window.

Adrian:

“Tell me something real.”

No response.

Just a new message a moment later.

MidnightViper:

“I already have. You just didn’t know it was me.”