OFF THE ICE: FAKE DATING MY HOCKEY ENEMY

WHO SAID YOU COULD TALK TO ME!?

REEVE’S POV

”Zane!”

I texted him three times before I came here.

The first one was an apology I'd rewritten until the words lost meaning, the second was just “sorry” and the last was so stupid. One question mark. He didn’t respond to any of them.

So here I was, standing at the boards of an empty ice rink at 7pm like some weird stalker, watching Zane try to skate his rage into something he could control.

His blades screeched on the turns sharply, almost aggressively, and the sound echoed through the empty space. I shouldn’t have come here. Hell, I shouldn't even know where he was. I had begged one of his teammates desperately for his whereabouts.

Then he stopped, right at the center of the ice.

He dropped to his knees like the strings holding him upright had snapped.

“Fuckkk!!!!!”

The scream tore through the arena so jaggedly, bouncing off the rafters. He slammed his palm into the ice so hard I flinched behind the glass. The sound was dull. He stayed there, head bowed, dark curls falling over his face and his shoulders heaving.

I’d done this to him.

My fingers tightened around my bag strap, knuckles turning white. I wanted to tell him my life was falling apart too, that I had a notepad for calculating my earnings that were never enough. But he wouldn’t care.

Why should he?

“Zane!” I called again, louder with my right hand waving at him.

I stepped towards the boards, waving further. My heart hammered so hard I could feel the fast thudding in my throat. What was I even doing? I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

He straightened slowly, already skating towards me.

“Why the hell are you here, Callahan?” His voice was a low rasp, chest rising and falling slowly from his little outburst.

“I—erm texted you.” I swallowed down, adjusting my stance as my fingers dug deeper into the bag strap. My voice trembled slightly and I hated it. How he could make me feel small. “I know i was stupid, but you did—-“

He scoffed, tearing his eyes away from me for a split second then returning it back.

“Who the hell do you even think you are to text me. I mean…i was busy losing my career.” His eyes tearing me down. “So my apologies if I hadn't had the time to refresh my inbox for someone I don't f*****g care about.”

Ouch—but okay.

”I came to say I’m sorry.” I forced myself to step closer to the boards, refusing to back down. “ I haven’t done it properly. I know you hate me. I know you think i did this for the views, or whatever but i never meant for any of th—-“

”Is that what this is about?” He cut me off, lips curled. “What—are you scared of a little lawsuit, Callahan? Are you scared the athletic board would sue your thrifted life into the ground?”

Thrifted. s**t—he knew exactly what to aim and hit. And he was right.

I shook my head rapidly in disagreement. “It’s not about the lawsuit.”

“Then what!?” He slammed his hand on top of the boards. The crack echoed so loudly, my bag slipped off my shoulder and I caught it quickly.

”Your apology means nothing, Callahan.” His voice dropped lower, more condescending. “It doesn’t fix my season, or the rankings I just watched, tanked. Neither does it fix the fact that I’m stuck with you for six weeks, pretending to love your sorry ass.”

My hands trembled even more at my sides. I didn’t blame him. If I had half the achievement he did and someone ruined it. I’d hate them too.

“I don’t want this more than you.” I finally said, my voice steadying. “I just—if we’re going to survive six weeks without killing each other. I just wanted you to know—“ I inhaled slightly. “I’m not the villain you think I am.”

His gaze dropped to my lips. Almost intentional, staying there. My breath caught before I could stop it.

The space between us suddenly felt too small, like something uninvited as settling in.

Then, they rested on my eyes again. For a second, his anger shifted into something heavier and I could feel it pressing against my chest.

“You’re exactly the villain I need, Callahan,” He said quietly. In a way that heightened the tension. My pulse spiked. “Because hating you is the only thing I have control of right now, so save it.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but was there a response for that? How would I tell him I didn't want him to hate me because not only was I sorry but I’ve crushed on him from miles away.

And his hate—-would destroy me.

Zane leaned in closer, close enough that his breath ghosted over my lips through the gap in the boards.

He was close enough that if I moved, even a tiny bit then I wouldn't miss.

”Don’t come to the rink again,” He said, voice barely above a whisper. “Tomorrow morning, you’re the girl I’m in love with for the producers. And you’ll smile like this whole thing isn’t a nightmare.”

He pushed off the boards with one sharp flick of his wrists. I remained frozen, unable to find words at all.

He skated backwards, eyes locking on mine the entire time until he stopped at centre ice.

”And Callahan.”

I looked at him, something desperate and pathetic rising in my chest…hope or the stupid part of me that wanted him to take it back. To say something that didn’t feel like a knife through my chest each time.

His voice cut through my thoughts,

”If the cameras aren’t rolling—“

His gaze hardened. “Don’t you dare f*****g talk to me.”