Inside my head?

Jax’s POV

The locker room still smelled like sweat and frozen rubber even after the showers. I slammed my gear into the bag harder than necessary, the clang echoing off the metal. 

Practice had been brutal today — Coach riding us on power plays, my shots finally connecting the way they needed to for Friday’s game. 

On paper, everything looked perfect. Captain. Leading scorer. Team eating out of my hand.

Inside my head? Total chaos.

Lila’s fingers had felt too small in mine earlier. Too warm. Too right. I kept replaying the way her breath hitched when I tucked that strand of hair behind her ear. 

The tiny flinch she tried to hide. Six months of watching her shrink in these halls and I finally did something about it. Fake dating. My idea. My fix.

Smart move, genius.

I zipped the bag and slung it over my shoulder, nodding at the guys still joking around the benches. Marcus caught my eye, that same smirk he’d worn in the hallway plastered across his face.

“So, Cap. You and the library mouse? For real?”

The question landed like a cheap hit into the boards. I kept my face blank — the same mask I’d perfected since freshman year when everything shifted. Popularity. Pressure. The need to fit the image the scouts wanted.

“Mind your own business,” I said, voice low and even. No smile. No explanation.

He laughed anyway, elbowing another defenseman. “Didn’t think you had a type for quiet ones. What happened to keeping the roster clean?”

I didn’t answer. Just grabbed my stick and headed for the door. The cold air outside the rink hit my face, sharp and clean. Snow dusted the parking lot already, even though it was only early November. 

My truck sat a few rows down, but I didn’t head straight for it. Instead I leaned against the brick wall, pulling out my phone like I had somewhere to be.

Truth was, I was stalling.

Lila had said yes too fast. Desperate. That quiet acceptance in her eyes gutted me more than any check on the ice ever could. She used to look at me like I hung the stars. Now she looked at me like I was just another part of the storm making her life miserable.

And the worst part? I deserved it.

Not that I’d ever say it out loud. Not to her. Not to anyone.

My thumb hovered over her contact. We’d swapped numbers in the side hall before splitting up — quick, businesslike, like we were negotiating a contract instead of pretending to fall for each other. I typed a simple text.

Jax: Tomorrow. Lunch. Main quad. Wear something warm.

Sent. No heart emoji. No extra words. Keep it fake. Keep it controlled.

The reply came faster than I expected.

Lila: Okay.

Just that. One word. My chest did something stupid — tightened, then loosened, then tightened again. I stared at the screen until it dimmed, imagining her sitting in the library right now, glasses slipping down her nose, highlighter paused over some textbook while she second-guessed the whole deal.

She shouldn’t trust me. Not really. But she needed the shield, and I needed…

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and pushed off the wall. The walk to the truck felt longer than usual. Every step replayed old memories I’d buried under hockey drills and team parties. Middle school sleepovers where we’d stay up building blanket forts and arguing over which video game character was better. 

The way she’d laugh — soft, real, the kind that made my stomach flip even back then. Then high school hit like a slap shot to the teeth. 

Suddenly being seen with the quiet nerd didn’t match the star forward everyone expected. So I pulled back. Let the distance grow. Let the guys test boundaries.

I told myself it was temporary. That I’d fix it quietly later.

Instead I’d made it worse.

The engine roared to life, heat blasting from the vents. I gripped the wheel until my knuckles went white. Fake dating her meant being close again. Holding her hand in public. 

Maybe pulling her in for those performative kisses we’d agreed on. All while carrying the secret that I’d been the spark that lit the fire under her.

She can never know.

My phone buzzed again. This time it was Jett.

Jett: Heard you claimed a girlfriend today. Bold move, bro.

I snorted. My twin had a way of knowing everything without being told. Same face, same build, completely different orbits. He stayed on the edges — smart, quiet in his own way, always watching. While I chased the spotlight on the ice, he chased grades and silence.

Jax: It’s not like that.

Jett: Sure it’s not. Just don’t drag her into our usual mess.

I didn’t reply. Instead I pulled out of the lot and headed toward home, the snow starting to stick to the windshield. The house would be empty — Dad at work, Mom at her book club. Perfect for overthinking in peace.

By the time I parked in the driveway, my mind had run through every possible way tomorrow could go wrong. Lila freezing up when I touched her. The team pushing harder just to test me. Someone catching the lie too soon.

Worse — the way my pulse had jumped when her sleeve brushed my jacket earlier. That wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was protection. Status shield. Nothing real.

I killed the engine and sat there in the quiet cab, breath fogging the glass. My reflection stared back — same blue eyes she used to tease me about, same jaw that clenched whenever I thought about her walking those halls alone.

Tomorrow I’d sell it. Laugh at her jokes even if they were nervous. Let my hand rest on her lower back when we walked. Make the whole school believe the captain had finally picked someone worth keeping.

And every second I’d remind myself: this is fake. This has to stay fake.

Because if the real feelings I’d never fully killed off started leaking through… 

I closed my eyes, forehead dropping to the steering wheel.

This was already more complicated than I’d bargained for.

And we hadn’t even had our first fake lunch yet.