"Yeah. Just—thinking." She looks up, uncertain. "We should probably talk about what happened. Before Gage showed up."
I sit down next to her, close but not touching. "What about it?"
"You said none of this feels fake to you."
"I did."
"Did you mean it?"
The question sits between us—terrifying and full of potential. I could lie. Take it back. Blame it on the moment or the proximity or anything other than the truth.
But I'm tired of lying.
"Yeah, Piper. I meant it."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can't read her expression. Then she says, voice barely above a whisper, "This was supposed to be simple. Help your image, help my brand. Clear rules, no complications."
"I know."
"But nothing about you feels simple." She turns to face me fully. "When we're together, I forget this is supposed to be fake. I forget there are rules. I just—I want?—"
"What do you want?"
She leans in, and my heart stops. This is it. She's going to kiss me, rules be damned, and I'm going to let her because I've wanted this since the moment she screamed at Morris in designer boots.
Her lips are an inch from mine when she stops.
"I can't," she whispers. "I want to, but I can't."
The rejection stings, but I understand. "Because of the rules."
"Because I'm scared." She pulls back, putting distance between us. "I've already had my heart broken publicly once this year. I can't—if this is just temporary, if you're going to realize you don't actually want the girl who can't start fires and calls it a hockey ball?—"
"Puck."
"—then I need the rules. I need the boundaries. Because if I let myself feel this, if I cross that line, and then you leave for the NHL or realize you want someone who actually belongs here?—"
"Piper—"
"I know it's not fair. I know I'm the one who suggested this arrangement. But I can't blur these lines, Ryder. I can't pretend and make it real at the same time. It'll destroy me."
The honesty in her voice makes my chest ache. She's right. She's been burned before, publicly and painfully. And I'm asking her to trust me when we haven't even figured out if there's an us beyond the arrangement.
"Okay," I say quietly.
"Okay?"
"We keep the rules. Keep the boundaries." Even though every fiber of my being wants to argue, wants to pull her close and promise her I'm not going anywhere. "But Piper?"
"Yeah?"
"When this is over—after the games, after the scouts, when we know where we stand—we're having this conversation again."
"What conversation?"
"The one about what's real and what's fake. Because right now, sitting here, I'm having a hard time telling the difference."
She studies me for a long moment, and I wish I could read her thoughts. Finally, she nods. "After the games. We'll figure it out then."
