CHAPTER 6: FIRST PERFORMANCE

Ethan's POV

I didn't sleep well. The bed was too big, the room too quiet, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Noah gripping that bench like he was about to fall apart.

By the time my alarm went off at seven, I'd been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and running through everything Daniel had told me about today.

Press conference at two. Smile and stand close. Let them speculate.

I showered, dressed in the only decent shirt I'd packed, and spent ten minutes trying to fix my hair before giving up. Then I grabbed my camera bag… …out of habit more than necessity and headed downstairs.

The kitchen smelled like coffee. Noah was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand.

He was dressed in a dark sweater and jeans, his hair still damp from the shower, and he looked nothing like the man who'd nearly collapsed in the training room last night.

He looked composed. Controlled. Untouchable.

He didn't look at me when I walked in.

"Morning Noah." I greeted, when I passed him.

"Mm."

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the island, keeping a few feet between us. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

"You sleep okay?" I asked.

He finally glanced at me. "Fine."

"Good."

Silence again. I took a sip of coffee and decided not to push. If he wanted to pretend last night hadn't happened, fine. I could do that too.

Daniel arrived at noon. He walked into the living room with a folder in one hand and a garment bag in the other, already talking before he'd fully crossed the threshold.

"The car will be here at one-thirty. Noah, you're wearing this." He handed Noah the garment bag. "Ethan, there's a jacket for you in the study. Nothing flashy. Neutral colors."

"Got it."

Daniel opened the folder. "The statement is simple. Noah, you'll address the championship win first…thank your fans, and the team. Then you'll acknowledge the 'speculation' about your personal life without confirming or denying anything."

"And then?" Noah asked, rubbing his chin.

"Then Ethan steps forward. You'll stand together for photographs. Close, but not too close. Familiar, but not intimate. Let them draw their own conclusions."

"What does that mean, exactly?" I frowned in confusion.

"It means you'll be photographed standing beside each other. Perhaps your shoulder touches his. Perhaps you laugh at something he says. In essence, you both should just make small suggestive pose. The media will do the rest."

I looked at Noah. His expression was unreadable.

"And if they ask direct questions?" I asked.

"Refer to Noah's statement. Nothing more."

"Sounds easy," I said, not believing it for a second.

"It won't be. But it's necessary." Daniel closed the folder, gesturing we leave.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

The car ride to the arena was silent. Noah sat on the opposite side of the back seat, staring out the window.

He hadn't said a word since we'd left the mansion, and I'd stopped trying to make conversation after the third attempt died in the air between us.

I watched the city pass by outside… familiar streets, the life I'd built for myself before all of this all felt distant now, like something I'd seen in a photograph rather than lived.

"You're nervous." Noah suddenly said. I turned. He was still looking out the window.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your leg. You keep bouncing it."

I looked down and he was right. "Old habit." I chuckled, forcing my leg to stay still.

>>>>>>>>>>

The press conference was held in a media room near the locker rooms. Daniel led us through a back entrance, avoiding the main crowd. The room was already full when we arrived. Rows of journalists, cameras pointed at the podium, anticipation filling the air.

Noah walked to the front like he'd done this a thousand times. Which, I supposed, he had.

I hung back near the edge of the room, watching.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Daniel said into the microphone, "Captain Ashford will make a brief statement and take a few questions. Please keep it respectful."

Noah stepped up to the podium, for a moment he just looked at the crowd. Then he smiled … that practiced, camera-ready smile I'd seen a hundred times on television … and began.

"First, I want to thank everyone for the support you've shown the team. Winning the championship was a dream come true, and I couldn't have done it without my teammates, my coaches, and my fans who believed in us."

Cameras flashes filled the room. He paused, letting the moment settle.

"Second, I want to address the speculation about my personal life." His voice didn't waver. "I understand that people are curious and photographs have been circulating. But I'd ask that you respect my privacy and the privacy of those close to me. What matters is the game, and that's where I intend to keep my focus."

A journalist raised her hand. "Captain Ashford, can you confirm whether you're in a relationship?"

Noah's smile stayed fixed. "I've said everything I'm going to say on that subject."

Another hand. "Is it true the man in the photograph is with you today?"

The room went quiet.

Noah's eyes flicked toward me, just for a second, so quick I almost missed it. Then he looked back at the crowd.

"I'm here to talk about hockey," he said. "If you have questions about the game, I'm happy to answer them."

The journalist didn't back down. "But the man….."

"Thank you," Daniel cut in smoothly. "That's all the time we have."

The room erupted into more questions, but Noah was already stepping away from the podium. Daniel guided him toward the side of the room, and I followed, my heart pounding harder than it should have been.

"Now the photographs," Daniel murmured. "Ethan, stand beside him. Shoulder to shoulder. Look natural."

I moved into position. Noah's shoulder brushed against mine, and I felt him tense.

"Relax," I whispered.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Then stop looking like you're about to bolt."

He shot me a half irritated look, and I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Better!" I mutter, giving him a small smile.

"Shut up."

Cameras flashed. We stood there, side by side, and I let myself lean in just slightly, almost resting on his shoulders.

.The journalists kept shouting questions. Noah didn't answer any of them.

But when a photographer called out, "Captain Ashford, who's the man beside you?"

Noah didn’t replied, instead he grabbed me from my waist and pulled me more closer to him, offering the photographer a suggestive charming smile.

And I realized, with a jolt, that the performance had already begun.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

When we got back, I went to my room and pulled out my laptop.

The internet had already exploded.

Photographs of us standing together were everywhere. The hashtag #NoahSecret was trending again, but this time the tone was different. People weren't just speculating anymore, they were shipping us.

They look so good together.

Who is that guy??

Noah Ashford is GAY? OMG.

I don't know who he is but I approve.

I scrolled through the comments, with my heart in turmoil. Part of me was relieved that the public was responding well. The other part felt like I was watching someone else's life unfold on the screen.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a message from Daniel.

Daniel: Good work today. The response is positive. Stay visible this week… dinner, coffee, a walk in the park. People need to see you together.

I typed back: Got it.

Then I closed the laptop and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

This is just an arrangement, I reminded myself. Six months. Then it's over.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Unknown POV

The photographs were everywhere.

I scrolled through them on my phone, zooming in on the man standing beside Noah. He was young, dark-haired, unremarkable. The kind of face you'd forget a minute after seeing it.

But I wasn't looking at him.

I was looking at Noah.

The way he stood and tilted his head. His shoulder almost touched the other man's, like he couldn't help himself.

I knew that look. I'd seen it before.

Eight years ago. A different boy. A different life.

I set my phone down and stared at the wall.

"Not again," I murmured. "I won't let it happen again."

Then I picked up my phone and sent a message.

It's me. We need to move faster than planned.