LOGINLucaCoach Harrelson didn’t sit. He stood at the head of the boathouse’s single scarred table, arms crossed, looking at all four of them Luca, Isabella, Marco, and Trent, whose phone he’d confiscated with a single unbothered hand like a man deciding how much truth a room could survive at once.“I’ve known about Holloway for two weeks,” he said. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have proof, and because the second this becomes public, it stops being about protecting Marco and starts being a war between two athletic programs with lawyers involved.”“Two weeks?” Luca’s voice cracked with disbelief. “You knew and you let me sit through Suarez’s ultimatum, the show, all of it”“I let you go through the process because the process was the only thing keeping you eligible while I worked this from the other side.” Harrelson’s eyes cut to Trent. “And you. You’ve been sniffing around Marco for a story since week one, and you didn’t think to bring what you found to me first?”Trent, to his c
IsabellaNobody moved. The branch snap hung in the cold air like a held breath, and Isabella felt her pulse thudding hard enough to hear over the lap of water against the dock.“Show yourself,” Luca called, voice low and steady in a way that didn’t match the tension coiled through his whole body.For a moment, nothing. Then a light swung up from behind the boathouse’s corner not a flashlight. A phone camera, screen glowing, already recording.Trent Coleman stepped into view with the easy, unbothered grin of a man who’d just found exactly what he was looking for.“Please,” Trent said, “don’t stop on my account. This is the best footage I’ve gotten all semester.”“You’ve been filming us?” Isabella’s voice came out sharper than she meant it to, disbelief curdling fast into fury. “This isn’t a scheduled shoot. There’s no release for this.”“There doesn’t need to be. Public land, no expectation of privacy, and technically” Trent tapped the side of his phone “I’m not the network. I’m just a
LucaNeither of them slept.They sat in the library until it closed, then moved to the twenty-four-hour diner two blocks off campus not Levi’s, somewhere with worse coffee and no cameras and picked apart the anonymous email until the words stopped making sense from repetition.“It could be Trent,” Isabella said, for the fourth time, turning her mug in slow circles. “He has access to everything. He has motive this exact kind of chaos is good for ratings.”“It could be Hale,” Luca countered. “Trying to rattle me into confessing something before he even has proof.”“Or it could be someone we haven’t thought of yet.” She looked up at him, tired, sharp even at 3 a.m. “Whoever it is, they used the word boyfriend in quotes. They know we’re fake. That narrows it down to people close to the production, or close to Suarez’s office.”Luca’s jaw tightened. “Or someone on the team.”Neither of them said Beckett’s name out loud, because neither of them believed it, but the possibility sat between t
IsabellaShe watched Luca’s face change before she saw the screen the color draining out of it, his jaw going tight in a way she was starting to recognize meant something serious.“Who is it?”He turned the phone toward her without a word. Dominic Hale. We should talk. Before your girlfriend finds out the truth from somebody else.Isabella read it twice. “He knows about the show.”“Everyone knows about the show.” Luca’s thumb hovered over the screen, not typing, just staring. “He’s never texted me. Not once, not after the game, not after any of it. Why now?”“Because he wants you scared.” Isabella kept her voice steady, though something cold had settled low in her stomach at the phrase your girlfriend like she was already a piece on someone else’s board, a lever to pull. “He’s trying to get to you through me before you’ve even had a chance to explain anything.”“There’s nothing to explain if I don’t answer him.”“Luca.” She reached across the table, not touching his hand this time, ju
LucaThe team house at 1 a.m. smelled like pizza boxes and old gym socks, and Luca sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open to an email he’d read four times and still didn’t fully believe.Subject: Rough Cut — Episode 1From: Trent ColemanLuca thought you’d want a preview before it goes to the network for approval. Big fan of the Sofia moment. Really humanizes you. Let me know your thoughts.He clicked play before he could talk himself out of it.The episode opened with the viral clip of course it did, eleven seconds of him checking Hale into the boards, slowed down, scored with something ominous before cutting hard to the diner, to Isabella’s face lit gold under the window light, to Sofia’s voice saying you’d think, if you were dating someone, you’d want to know the truth. Trent had cut it to land exactly where it would hurt most, holding on Luca’s face a half-second too long right after, capturing the flinch he hadn’t known the camera caught.Then, worse a title card. NEXT WEE
IsabellaSofia Marchetti smelled like expensive perfume and old history, and she settled into the booth like she owned it, which, Isabella suspected, was probably true in every way that mattered on this campus.“I’m sorry, I’m being so rude,” Sofia said, not sounding sorry at all, extending a manicured hand across the table. “Sofia. Luca and I dated freshman year. You must be the famous girlfriend everyone’s been talking about.”“Isabella.” She shook the hand because refusing would look worse on camera than accepting, and camera optics, apparently, were the only currency that mattered tonight. “I didn’t realize we had fans yet.”“Oh, sweetheart, you have fans the second Luca De Santis holds your hand in public. Trust me.” Sofia’s eyes flicked toward the boom mic hovering above them, toward Trent, who had abandoned all pretense of professional distance and was now standing directly beside the camera operator, grinning like Christmas had come early. “I just think it’s so brave of the at







