My Rival Is My Roommate

The rumor

POV LUCA

I shoved my phone straight into Maya's face.

"Look at it, Bennett."

Maya snatched the phone, her eyes widening as she scrolled through. The photo was taken from across the street outside our apartment complex some minutes ago.

It caught us right at the door. From that angle, with me leaning down and her looking up at me, it didn't look like we were screaming about bedroom space.

It looked like I was kissing her cheek.

The caption was fun, 'Confirmed. Golden boy Callahan and his indie filmmaker girl officially moving in together.'

"Who took this." Maya shouted. "Is someone literally stalking us."

"It's campus gossip, Maya," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, fighting the grin that wanted to creep up. Golden boy. Yeah, that tracked. "They post whatever gets more clicks."

"Well, fix it." She shoved my phone back into my chest. "Call them. Tell them we hate each other. Tell them I'd rather sleep in a dumpster than share air with you."

"You think they care about the truth." I laughed, and I let her see exactly how little this rattled me. "If I comment saying we're just roommates, it looks like a cover up. Makes things even worse."

By the time I walked into the arena locker room an hour later, my phone was buzzing so hard in my pocket. Guys were already grinning at me from the benches before I got my gear bag off my shoulder.

Jace, my line associate and the bane of my existence on off days, pushed his phone in my face.

"Look at the latest power couple," Jace crowed, slapping my shoulder hard enough to hurt. "Moving in together, Callahan? Damn. Kept that quiet."

"Shut up, Jace." I tossed my skates into my locker, unable to keep the smirk off my face now. "It's a housing error. She's my roommate."

"Yeah, and I'm the king of England," Jace cackled. "Comment section's going wild, man. She's got you domestic already."

"Jealous?" I shot back, dropping into the bench. "Focus on practice, Jace. Drills in five."

I played it cool hell, I played it better than cool, I played it like a guy who'd already won something but the second I sat down alone to tie my laces, my pulse started beating. This final season was everything.

Three years keeping my name off the party pages, keeping my head down, playing through bruised ribs and torn muscles just to keep my draft stock high. NHL scouts didn't want media circus players. They wanted focused, clean, reliable talent.

One viral fake romance could turn my whole reputation into a joke.

"Callahan."

I looked up. Coach Vance was standing at the edge of the bench, clipboard tucked under his arm. He didn't yell. He never yelled when it was serious.

"In my office. Now."

I stood up, throat suddenly dry, and followed him into the small, room, already rehearsing the easy smile I'd use to talk my way out of it.

Coach didn't sit. He turned, looking at me with eyes that could freeze water. "I just got off the phone with two scouts from Chicago, Luca. You know what they asked me."

"My shot percentage?" I tried, flashing the grin that usually worked on everyone but him.

"They asked if you were focused on the ice or starting a reality show," Coach said flatly. "I don't care about your personal life, Callahan. But scouts hate drama. Give them a reason to think you're distracted, and they'll draft the kid from Minnesota who keeps his mouth shut and his name off the internet. Fix this. Now."

"Understood, Coach," I said, the grin falling away fast.

When I got back to the suite that night, Maya was pacing the living room like a caged animal, laptop and scripts spread across the coffee table.

"You're late," she snapped the second the door closed. "And your little fan club's been messaging my production page all afternoon asking if I'm shooting your team promo."

"I don't control them, Maya." I dropped my keys on the counter, unbothered, almost enjoying how worked up she was. "You think I want this? I just got reamed out by Coach because scouts think I'm running a circus."

"Oh, poor baby." Maya threw her arms up, marching toward me. "Your precious hockey career might get a little stain. What about my thesis film? I have sponsors checking my social media handles. If they think I'm just some athlete's girlfriend, they won't take my project seriously."

"Then post a statement " I stepped into her space, close enough to watch her get madder, and finding I liked it more than I should. "Go ahead. Tell the whole world that I'm a terrible guy.”

"I did.” she yelled back, her eyes flashing. "I posted that we were just assigned as roommates. You know what people said. 'Aww, she's trying to keep him private.' They don't believe me, Luca.”

"Because you're terrible at managing social media."

"And you're so great at it?" Maya poked my chest with her finger. "Look at you. Mr. Golden Boy can't even handle one rumor without spiraling. You're completely helpless."

"Golden Boy." I repeated, turned my head, letting the smirk win this time. "You keep saying that like it's an insult."

My phone rang on the counter, cutting through the shouting. I glared at her, snatched it up, and saw Renata's name on the screen again.

"What." I answered, stepping back.

"Luca, don't talk to any reporter and listen to what I am to tell you." Renata's voice was loud enough that Maya could hear it in the quiet room. "I just talked to the gear rep from Titan Sports. They're announcing their sponsorship decision in six weeks. They want a wholesome, drama free athlete."

"I am drama free." I said, pacing now, though the grin I threw at Maya over my shoulder said otherwise.

"You're a college hockey player living with a girl people think you're secretly dating," Renata said. "If you deny it now, you look like a liar, or like someone who got caught. The media hates being lied to. They'll tear your reputation apart trying to prove it."

"So what do I do." I said, catching Maya watching me, her brows drawn tight.

"You don't fight it," Renata said. "You use it. You need a clean, stable public image for the next six weeks. You need a girlfriend. A believable one. And the only woman the public already believes you're dating is Maya Bennett."

My blood went cold. "Renata, no. Absolutely not. She hates my guts."

"Make a deal with her," Renata said. "Give her whatever she wants. But if you want that draft pick and that sponsorship, you give them the couple they want to see."

The line went dead.

I stood there in the middle of the living room, the silence heavy between us. Maya was staring at me, arms crossed. I let the smirk settle back onto my face, slow and deliberate, because if I was going down for this, I might as well enjoy the view on the way.

"What did she say?" Maya asked quietly, the edge slipping out of her voice. "Luca, what did your agent just say?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, let the corner of my mouth curl up, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”