The next evening, Lila found herself sitting across from Ryker in an empty corner of the arena café.
The smell of stale ice, cheap coffee, and floor wax hung in the air.
It wasn't romantic.
It wasn't even comfortable.
But it was private.
A notebook sat between them on the scratched laminate table.
A literal notebook.
It was a generic, college-ruled spiral thing with a neon blue cover that looked like it belonged to a middle schooler, not a professional hockey player pulling six figures.
She stared at it.
Then she stared at him.
"Are we signing a business contract or fake dating?"
Ryker grabbed a cheap black pen from his pocket and clicked it.
The sound was sharp in the quiet café.
"Both."
Lila laughed.
The sound echoed slightly against the concrete walls.
"You are unbelieva
