LOGINJace's POV
I pushed through the library doors, shoulders hunched against the sudden quiet. My palms were sweaty for some reason so I wiped them on my hoodie twice before shoving them deep into my pockets. The weight in my chest pressed harder with every step. Rows of tables blurred past until I spotted her in the back corner. Her head down, earbuds in, notebook open like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
I stopped a few feet away, my right foot tapped the floor once, twice, then stilled. My throat worked as I swallowed. This felt wrong, but Dad’s voice from yesterday, the guys in the locker room and the endless notifications they all pushed me forward.
She looked up at me, her eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed. One earbud came out slowly.
I pulled out the chair across from her and sat, keeping my hands under the table where she couldn’t see them clenching. My knee started bouncing. I pressed my heel into the floor to stop it.
“Hey,” I said, voice lower than normal. “Ariana, right?”
She gave a small nod, her fingers tightened around her pen.
“I’m Jace.” I cleared my throat. “About that video…”
Ariana looked down at her notebook. Her shoulders stayed rigid.
I rubbed the back of my neck, my skin hot under my fingers. “It’s everywhere…people assuming stuff. After Maya… it’s messing things up for me.”
Silence stretched then she turned the pen over and over in her hand.
I leaned forward, elbows on the table then caught myself and leaned back again. My fingers laced together tight on the tabletop, knuckles pale.
“Look,” I continued, words coming faster. “My teammates think we could… use this. You know… fake it, just public stuff. We can take pictures, show up at a couple games for like three months, then we end it. No feelings, nothing real.”
Her pen stopped moving then she stared at me.
I swallowed again. My legs started bouncing under the table, I dug my heel harder into the floor.
“You’re on scholarship, right?” I added quickly. “I could help. Get you team interviews, access most people don’t get and whatever you need for your journalism stuff.”
Ariana’s hand moved to the edge of her notebook, her knuckles went white but she didn’t speak.
I stared at the table between us. My hands unclasped and clasped again. The silence pressed in on me, I could hear my own breathing; it was too loud. Part of me wanted her to tell me to leave, another part needed her to say yes so the calls from Dad might finally stop. She finally looked up, those expressive eyes were careful and closed off.
“You want me to pretend to date you… because of one video?” Her voice was quiet.
I nodded, my jaw tightened. “Yeah, I know it's not ideal, but right now it fixes shit for both of us. I get people off my back, you get opportunities then a clean break after three months.”
Her fingers pressed into the notebook cover. I watched her swallow, and watched the small movement in her throat.
I stood up suddenly, my chair scraping loud in the quiet space. My hands went back into my pockets. “Think about it. You don’t have to answer now. Just… consider it.”
She stayed silent, eyes on me.
I turned and walked away, steps stiff, shoulders pulled tight. My heart hammered against my ribs the whole way to the door. Outside, the cold air hit my face but didn’t ease the pressure in my chest.
The offer was out there now and there was no undoing it.
I kept walking, and clenched my fists inside my pockets, the weight of everything followed me across campus.
Jace's POVI drove out to my childhood home on a Tuesday afternoon I should have spent at practice, exhaustion finally outweighing every reason I usually had for staying away from a house that had never actually felt like home in any way that mattered.The place sat quiet when I pulled into the driveway, no cars besides my own, the housekeeper's schedule apparently not bringing her by today, my mother somewhere else entirely as she usually was, off on whatever extended trip or social obligation currently occupied her attention. I let myself in with my old key, the silence pressing in around me the second the door clicked shut, familiar and hollow in exactly the way I remembered.I wandered through rooms I barely recognized as mine anymore, searching for nothing in particular, just needing somewhere quiet to sit with everything currently crushing me, the injury, the scout's concerns, Mike's continued distance, the ache of losing Ariana that never seemed to fully fade no matter how much
Ariana's POVThe email arrived while I sat in the campus library, three days after my encounter with Davian, his vague warning still sitting uneasy in my chest despite my attempts to push it aside and focus on rebuilding my academic standing.**Financial Aid Office; Urgent: Discrepancy in Application Materials**My stomach dropped the second I read the subject line, dread crawling up my spine before I'd even opened the message fully. I clicked into it with unsteady hands, scanning through formal language that made my chest tighten with every sentence.*Dear Ms. Brooks, our office has received information suggesting potential inconsistencies in your original financial aid application, specifically regarding household income reporting from your initial enrollment year. We are required to investigate any such claims thoroughly. Pending this review, your current financial aid disbursement will be placed on temporary hold. Please contact our office imm
Maya's POVI sat in the stands during Jace's practice, telling myself I was just there to support the team generally, though the real reason sat closer to the persistent, uncomfortable pull I still felt whenever his name came up in conversation.I'd watched the whole scrimmage from a distance, close enough to see him wince sharply after that goal, close enough to notice the way his teammate Mike hovered protectively afterward, though far enough back that neither of them clocked my presence in the mostly empty stands. Something about watching him struggle like that stirred an uncomfortable mix of concern and opportunity, feelings I'd been sitting with more frequently since our coffee meetings started.I lingered near the rink entrance after practice ended, hoping for a chance to catch him, though the scout's presence complicated things, the stern-looking man in his fifties still standing near the exit, phone pressed to his ear, his voice carrying just enoug
Jace's POVI wrapped my shoulder tighter than usual before practice, careful to keep the extra layers hidden beneath my jersey where Coach's watchful eyes wouldn't catch anything unusual after last week's video scare.Mike hadn't fully come back around yet, though he'd started speaking to me again in short, careful exchanges, enough that the isolation of losing his full support had eased slightly without fully resolving. I laced my skates slowly, testing the range of motion in my arm, wincing internally at the persistent ache that no amount of rest seemed to actually be fixing."You're moving stiffer than usual," Mike said, dropping down onto the bench beside me, his voice carrying cautious concern rather than the outright frustration from our last real conversation."I'm managing it," I said, the deflection coming automatic despite knowing exactly how thin that excuse had worn by now."Jace." Mike's voice held a warning edge. "The video
Ariana's POVI spotted him the second I stepped out of the journalism building, and my whole body went rigid before I'd even fully processed who I was looking at.Davian stood near the steps, hands in his pockets, that same easy, confident posture he'd always carried like the world owed him space to occupy however he pleased. He looked exactly the same as he had over a year ago, well-groomed, casually expensive, the kind of charm that had once completely disarmed me now reading as something closer to a warning sign."Ariana." He said my name like we were old friends catching up, like he hadn't submitted a fabricated statement to my scholarship committee weeks ago that nearly cost me everything."What are you doing here." My voice came out sharper than I meant it to, though the shock of seeing him hadn't fully faded from my system yet."Can we talk?" He gestured toward a nearby bench, entirely too casual given everything sitting between us. "Just for a minute.""I don't have anything t
Ethan's POVI watched the video three times before calling my son, my jaw tightening with each replay, irritation building steadily into something colder and more calculated.The footage itself wasn't the problem. Speculation about an injury could be managed, redirected, spun into a narrative about dedication rather than concern if handled properly. The problem was the timing, the visibility, the way this kept happening despite every intervention I'd already made to control the narrative surrounding my son's career.I dialed his number, my grip tight around the phone."Dad." Jace's voice came through cautious, exhausted in a way that irritated me further."We need to discuss this video," I said, skipping any pleasantries. "And the broader pattern I'm seeing develop around you lately.""Coach already called," Jace said. "I explained it. It's being handled.""Is it?" I let the question sit there, cold and pointed. "Because







