Chapter 5
1320 Words
BELLA
The answer comes instantly.
Ava remains irritatingly composed.
“You wouldn’t need to actually fall in love with him, Bella.”
“I would hope not.”
A tiny smile pulls at the corner of her mouth before disappearing.
“The idea is simple,” she says. “People already see tension between you two. Instead of allowing the internet to create its own narrative, we redirect it.”
I blink slowly.
“You want me to fake date the guy I publicly accused yesterday.”
“When you phrase it like that, it sounds dramatic.”
“Because it is dramatic.”
Ava laughs softly this time.
Then her expression turns serious again.
“You care about justice,” she says. “And whether Chase Carter is guilty or innocent, getting close to him gives you access you wouldn’t normally have.”
That makes me pause. Because she’s right. And I hate that she’s right.
“What’s in this for you?” I ask quietly. I'm not naive enough to think that she's some sort of saviour or helper without any other gain.
For the first time, Ava leans back fully.
“I believe stories shape culture,” she says smoothly. “Especially stories involving power, gender, and accountability. I think students need conversations like this publicly instead of being hidden behind university statements.”
The answer sounds polished.
Almost too polished, but it also sounds believable.
“And if I say no?”
“Then you say no,” Ava replies simply. “But for what it’s worth…” She glances briefly at her phone. “Chase’s team already agreed.”
That surprises me enough to show on my face.
“He agreed?”
“His sponsors are beginning to pull away. Public perception matters right now.”
I fall silent after that.
Because now this situation feels larger than internet drama or campus gossip.
This could either expose the truth, or destroy both of us publicly.
And somehow, despite every instinct warning me against it,
Part of me is considering it.
*******
CHASE
The moment I leave Mr. Chen's office, I head for my car.
I'm to go home, but instead, I find myself taking a different turn. The engine hums beneath me as I drive across campus, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the pavement.
Students move in clusters along the sidewalks, laughing, talking, and carrying on with lives untouched by scandal and public scrutiny.
Lucky them.
Less than an hour ago, I practically agreed to tie my reputation, and my sanity, to Bella Moreno.
The same Bella Moreno who seems convinced I'm the villain in her story. Still, I can't entirely blame her.
She doesn't know the truth.
And that's because I've made sure nobody does. Because it's the price I have to pay to protect Lila.
A familiar knot settles in my chest. It's been over a week since the incident.
Over a week since I last spoke to her. Every day that passes makes the silence feel heavier.
I hope she's okay. I hope she's safe. I hope she's not carrying this alone.
The thoughts follow me all the way to the ice rink. The moment I step inside, the sharp chill hits my skin, instantly cooling the tension simmering beneath it. The familiar scent of ice, rubber mats, and old hockey equipment fills the air.
For the first time all day, I can breathe.
The arena is empty except for a maintenance worker in the distance. The vast expanse of untouched ice stretches beneath the overhead lights, smooth and pristine.
I make my way to the stands and sit down, as the cold seeps through my clothes.
Normally I'd hate it, but today, I welcome it.
It gives me something else to focus on besides the mess my life has become.
I rest my forearms on my knees and stare out at the rink. This is where everything started. The early morning practices, injuries, and sacrifices.
The years spent chasing a dream that finally feels within reach.
NHL.
Just thinking about it makes something ache inside me. I've worked too hard for this.
Too many years have been spent. Too many missed birthdays, missed holidays, missed opportunities.
I won't let a rumor destroy everything. I can't.
The silence settles around me, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigeration system beneath the ice.
For thirty minutes, I just sat there, trying not to think.
It doesn't work.
Then I hear footsteps approaching from behind. I don't bother turning around as I'm not in the mood for company.
A familiar hand lands on my shoulder. When I glance up, I see Ethan.
Concern is written all over his face.
His blond hair is still damp from practice, and he's carrying his hockey bag over one shoulder.
"What did your manager say?"
I remember texting him earlier.
Got called into a meeting. Not good.
But I didn't expect him to come looking for me. Well, it's fine.
I straighten slightly and drag a hand through my hair.
"Apparently," I say dryly, "I'm going to have to date Bella Moreno."
"What?"
His voice echoes through the empty rink.
His eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline.
I can't help the small laugh that escapes me.
"Yeah."
"The same Bella Moreno?"
"The journalist."
"The one from yesterday?" I nod.
"The one who looked ready to publicly execute you?"
"That would be the one."
Ethan stares at me for several seconds.
Then he lets out a disbelieving laugh.
"No."
"Trust me. That was my reaction too."
"What kind of insane plan is that?"
I exhale slowly. The answer tastes bitter as it rolls off my tongue.
"My sponsors are pulling out."
The amusement immediately disappears from his face.
"What?"
I look away from him and back toward the ice.
"The backlash is affecting business."
Saying it out loud now makes it feel more real.
“The investors for my sponsors don't like controversy."
Ethan swears under his breath.
"But that's ridiculous."
I shrug.
"Not to them."
"This whole thing should've blown over days ago."
"I know."
"People don't even know what happened."
"I know."
His frustration mirrors my own.
The difference is that mine has nowhere to go. Because I can't explain anything, at least not without breaking a promise.
"The university wanted this buried," Ethan says.
"And now everyone's acting like you're guilty."
I don't respond.
The silence is answer enough.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Ethan exhales sharply and offers me a hand.
"Come on."
I look at him.
"What?"
"You're done sitting here feeling sorry for yourself."
A reluctant smile pulls at my mouth.
"I wasn't feeling sorry for myself."
"Right."
"I wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
I roll my eyes but grab his hand anyway as he hauls me to my feet. The familiar gesture eases some of the weight pressing against my chest.
I remember during freshman year, sophomore year, junior year, senior year.
No matter what happened, Ethan had always been there. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.
Then we walk toward the parking lot together. The late-afternoon air is warmer than the rink, carrying the distant sounds of students crossing campus.
Before I get into my car, Ethan claps a hand against my shoulder.
"You'll figure it out."
I nod hopefully.
Because right now I don't have a clue. I climb into the driver's seat and start the engine.
As I pull away from the curb, something makes me glance into the rearview mirror.
Ethan is still standing there. Watching.
His hands are shoved into his pockets, and his expression is unreadable.
For some reason, the sight sends an odd feeling crawling down my spine.
I blink, and it's gone.
I press my foot against the accelerator and drive away, unaware that the next few months are about to change everything.
- Writer
