Off the ice: Fake dating my hockey enemy

REEVE’S POV

 I just ruined the career of the one boy I’ve had a crush on since freshman year.

And I’m sitting here watching it happen in real time.

It was 9:58pm. The campus paper office was empty except for me and the sound of the ancient heater ticking. I had hit send on my article piece exactly at 7:20pm.

And I watched the numbers climb even though I almost gave up at 50 views in an hour, but a part of me knew this——this was the piece that’ll put me out there.

Except, I didn't know it'd put me on his radar.

Zane Ashford, Harlow university’s star centre. The first team all conference two years running, the reason half this Campus bought hockey jerseys. And now, I just got him suspended with a pending investigation.

Because of four seconds of footage.

I've watched the clip thirty-one times. I know because I counted. My sweater pulled almost into my fingers, as I brought them to my lips, nibbling nervously.

My laptop light reflected in my big glasses as I counted eleven seconds in total. The whole video replayed, the bar, crowd pulling in, a woman stumbling near the exit, and then Zane’s arm coming down.

“Fuck…” I cussed under my breath, burying my face in my palm. Fuck, I’m such an idiot. Four seconds of the clip was what my source gave me and I just banked on it.

What nobody is asking, God! What I didn't ask is what happened the seven seconds before his arm came down.

My phone started buzzing incessantly beside me, I slid my attention towards it, picking up swiftly at the name.

“Tell me you’re okay.” My best friend, Demi said.

”I’m-i’m fine.” I let out a small exhale, mentally face palming myself.

“Liar, I know you Ree. You’re doing that thing where you’re counting again.” Her tone is precise. Of course she knew me. She was my roommate too, pre med student and brutally honest.

“I’m not w—“

”How many times have you watched that clip?” She cut me off.

I pushed my glasses up my nose and said nothing.

”Reeve.”

My eyes screwed shut. “Thirty-one.”

I heard her let out a deep breath. The one that sounds like you fucked up but we have to find a way to fix it regardless before Zane sues you for everything you don’t even have.

”The video only shows the last four seconds and i..” I started before she could but I ended up stopping myself.

”I know.”

I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, still staring at my laptop like what I just did would disappear.

“I didn’t ask my source what happened before I fucking posted it.”

The worst part about Demi? She never says I told you so. She just lets you arrive at it yourself.

“What do you need now?” She asked.

I shook my head slightly. What do I even need? Maybe move away? Start a new life with my mom and sister off the coast of Mexico?

”I—-“ I opened my mouth to say something but the ringing of my other phone cut me off. I grabbed it off the table, my eyes landing on the caller.

It was my editor, Marcus Webb. My ex-boyfriend, technically still my editor. The man who’s been taking partial credit for my best work for the past eight months while calling it mentorship.

“ I have to go, babe.” I said to Demi, picking up his call and lodging it between my other ear and shoulder.

“Forty seven thousand views, Callahan!” His voice booms off the phone. Almost pleased, like he always was with my other works, and we know why.

”You my darling, broke something tonight.”

”Marcus, did you watch the clip?” I drew my cursor back to restart the video. “I mean the full eleven seconds, not the one going around.”

“Listen, don’t start fucking spiraling. Own this shit, okay?” He sounded almost sure.

My head tipped back as I pulled the phone from my shoulder, holding it properly. No, he wasn’t getting it. This was wrong. It was against everything I stand for.

”i think I got it all wrong, Marc. I got him suspended.” My voice broke at the last line.

He let out an exasperated sigh. Like it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to him, only the attention, the next exclusive story.

“Then you’ll deal with it on Monday. Tonight just celebrate, Reeve. It’s your first forty thousand views.”

 I brought my head back forward, facing my laptop again, the crumbling world Zane was now in because of me.

“He’s suspended, Marcus! His season starts in eleven days.” My voice rose higher.

He went silent for a while, and my eyes couldn’t leave the views that now seemed to climb even higher by the minute.

”Just go home, Reeve. You did your job, no one can hate you for that.” He finished and the line cut almost immediately. The sound of the heater ticked even louder, it was the only thing I could hear, and the notification count climbed even faster.

Then a message pops up almost immediately.

”You got it wrong, Callahan. But I guess you couldn’t wait to bring me down before you find out.”

I threw the phone on the table sharply, jerking backwards away from it, my chair scraping the floor from the impact. I know whose words those were.

Zane Ashford.

The same person that cornered me in a bar six months ago and told me my budget piece was incomplete, then sent me a forty page report from an anonymous email two days later.

Zane had always been an inconvenient presence in my life since freshman year and he didn’t even know it.

And now, I just dragged him into my messy life knowingly.