The First Flush of Lights

Summer

The heat of the production lights was the first thing that shocked Summer.

The second was the sheer volume of people crammed into the university’s outdoor courtyard.

It was Wednesday afternoon, the peak of campus activity, and HypeTV had set up a "live broadcast interview" segment under the guise of an ESPN campus highlight feature.

In reality, it was a carefully choreographed stage play.

Summer stood just outside the perimeter of the cameras, her hands shoved deep into her denim jacket pockets.

Her palms were sweating.

"Two minutes to live, people!" a crew member yelled through a megaphone.

"You look like you're about to vomit," a deep, smooth voice murmured beside her.

Summer turned her head to see Jaxson standing next to her.

He was wearing his official Eastern University varsity jacket—dark blue with heavy leather sleeves and the massive white Bulldog crest on the chest.

He looked every bit the elite athlete: broad-shouldered, tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him, and possessing an effortless, infuriating confidence that seemed to draw every eye in the courtyard toward him.

"I don't like crowds," Summer lied, her voice tight.

"And I don't like being lied to. This feels like an ambush."

"Welcome to the show," Jaxson said softly.

He reached out, his large, calloused hand gently catching her elbow.

“Listen to me. Just follow my lead. The interviewer is going to ask me about the incident at the diner. I’m going to deliver the script Sarah gave us. When he turns to you, all you have to do is nod, smile, and look like you believe me."

"That might be the hardest acting job in television history," she muttered.

Jaxson let out a soft, unexpected chuckle.

It wasn't the arrogant smirk she had seen in his athletic profile photos.

It was a genuine, warm sound that did something strange to the rhythm of her chest.

"Five, four, three..." the floor manager counted down with his fingers, then pointed aggressively at the interviewer, a charismatic alumnus named Mark who worked for the network.

"We are live at Eastern University," Mark said into his microphone, smiling brightly into the lens.

“With the season opener just forty-eight hours away, all eyes are on the Bulldogs. But recently, those eyes have been focused on off-ice drama. Joining me now is team captain and star defenseman, Jaxson Reed."

Jaxson stepped smoothly into the frame, pulling Summer along with him.

His hand slid down from her elbow, his long fingers wrapping around her smaller hand, intertwining their fingers perfectly.

Summer’s breath caught in her throat.

His hand was warm, steady, and incredibly strong. The contrast of his rough, hockey-calloused skin against hers sent an electric jolt straight up her arm.

She had to force her feet to move, stepping into the bright glare of the studio lights beside him.

“Jaxson, let’s address the elephant on the campus," Mark said, leaning in.

“There’s a video circulating from Friday night. An altercation outside the local diner. The fans want to know: is the pressure getting to you before the draft?"

Jaxson looked directly into the camera lens.

His expression was a perfect mix of humility and quiet strength.

“The pressure isn't the problem, Mark. I love this game, and I respect this university. But Friday night wasn't about hockey. It was about accountability."

Jaxson turned his head slightly, looking down at Summer.

The look in his eyes was so intense, so seemingly full of devotion, that for a split second, Summer forgot they were reading a script.

"An individual was being aggressive and disrespectful toward someone I care about deeply,"

Jaxson continued, his voice steady and resonant.

“I lost my temper. I shouldn't have used physical force, and I apologize to the university and the fans for letting my emotions get the better of me. But I will always stand up for the people I love."

Mark’s eyes lit up. This was the exact quote the network wanted.

“The people you love? Jaxson, are you referring to the young lady standing next to you?"

"Yes," Jaxson said, his grip on Summer's hand tightening just a fraction—a silent signal for her to play her part.

“This is Summer Brooks. She’s a brilliant journalism major here, and... she’s the person who keeps me grounded. We’ve kept our relationship private because her work is important to her, and I didn't want my world spilling into hers. But given the circumstances, I want to clear the air. She’s my priority."

Mark turned the microphone directly toward Summer.

“Summer, this must be a chaotic introduction to the spotlight for you. What do you have to say to those who think Jaxson’s temper makes him a liability on the ice?"

The camera red light blinked at her like a demonic eye.

Summer felt the collective gaze of hundreds of students watching from the courtyard perimeters. She saw

Sarah Sterling standing behind the director, giving her an encouraging nod.

Summer swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She looked at Mark, then she looked up at Jaxson. Up close, she could see a faint, tiny scar just above his left eyebrow.

She could see the slight tension in his jaw, the silent plea in his amber eyes. He wasn't just acting—he was fighting for his life.

"Jaxson is a lot of things," Summer said, her voice starting small but gaining strength as her journalistic training kicked in.

@He’s passionate, he’s intense, and sometimes he acts before he thinks. But he isn't a liability. He’s a protector. And anyone who actually knows him knows that his actions on Friday night came from a place of integrity, not malice."

The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but they sounded beautiful through the broadcast speakers.

"A powerful statement from a stunning couple," Mark wrapped up, smiling widely. "From secret romance to public redemption, the Bulldogs are proving they have heart both on and off the ice. Back to you in the studio!"

"And we are clear!" the director yelled.

Instantly, the tension in the air shattered. But before Summer could pull her hand away from Jaxson’s grasp, a loud, mocking voice cut through the murmurs of the crew.

"Well, well, well. Look at the happy couple. I didn't know HypeTV was in the business of hiring fiction writers."

Summer turned to see a tall, heavily built guy in a rival university athletic jacket walking toward them.

He had a cruel, arrogant smirk on his face, and two other members of the opposing hockey team were flanking him.

"Chad," Jaxson said, his voice instantly dropping into a dark, dangerous register.

His entire body went rigid, his muscles coiling like a spring.

"Don't look at me like that, Reed," Chad sneered, stopping just a few feet away, deliberately ignoring the cameras that were still being rolled away by the crew.

“We all know what happened Friday night. You got lucky. But playing the devoted boyfriend isn't going to save you on Friday night's opener. We’re going to skate circles around your pathetic defense, and then we’re going to see how long your little charity case of a girlfriend stays around to watch you fail."

Chad’s eyes darted down to Summer, his gaze slimy and dismissive.

“Though, if she’s looking for a real winner after you get dropped by the NHL, she can always find me at the Beta house."

Jaxson took a violent step forward, his chest colliding with Chad’s. "

“Say another word about her," Jaxson growled, his face inches from Chad’s, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. "And I won't wait until Friday night to put you through the boards."

The crew stopped moving. People started pulling out their phones.

Another public fight right now would ruin everything.

The entire contract would dissolve before the ink was dry.

"Jaxson! No!" Summer reacted on pure instinct.

She stepped between them, placing both of her palms flat against Jaxson’s massive chest.

The heat radiating from him was intense, his heart hammering like a trapped bird against his ribs.

He was completely focused on Chad, a dangerous, primal anger clouding his features.

"Jaxson, look at me," Summer commanded, her voice sharp, forcing him to look down at her. "He’s not worth it. Don't give him what he wants."

Jaxson’s eyes locked onto hers. The raw fury in his gaze was terrifying, but as he looked into her frantic, steady eyes, something shifted. He let out a long, ragged breath through his nose.

"You're right," Jaxson whispered, his voice rough.

Suddenly, before Chad could utter another taunt, and before the crowd could realize what was happening, Jaxson reached down, caught Summer by the waist, and pulled her flush against his body.

Before she could even gasp, his lips descended onto hers.

It wasn't a scripted, gentle kiss for the cameras.

It was an explosive, desperate, highly public display of possession and defiance.

His lips were warm, firm, and demanding, crushing against hers with a sudden, overwhelming intensity that made Summer’s knees turn to water.

The world around them completely vanished.

The sound of the crowd, the whir of the cameras, the threat of the scandal—all of it faded into the background, replaced by the dizzying, terrifying sensation of Jaxson’s hands gripping her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

And as the cameras around the courtyard flared to life again, capturing every single passionate, unfiltered second of the kiss, Summer realized with a jolt of pure panic:

Playing this part wasn't just going to be hard.

It was going to be dangerous.