"You like him."
"He's entertaining." Her phone buzzes again and she laughs. "Okay, he wants to know if I'm free for lunch. I should probably shower first."
"Probably."
She disappears into the bathroom, and I sit there with my coffee, staring at my laptop. The reality show offer is gone. In its place is a blank document titled "Grizzly Girl Proposal."
My fingers hover over the keyboard.
Then I start typing.
The morning practice starts at ten. I tell myself I'm going to watch from a distance, maintain boundaries, not make this weird.
I make it approximately fifteen minutes before Preston corners me at the rink entrance.
"Piper! Perfect timing." He's holding his phone like it's a weapon. "We need to talk strategy."
"For what?"
"For when Ryder gets the NHL offer." He says it like it's a done deal. "The long-distance relationship angle could be huge for both of you. Think about it—hashtag HockeyBoyfriend, behind-the-scenes content, the emotional goodbye posts. We could monetize the entire narrative."
Nausea crawls up my throat. "Our relationship isn't content."
"Everything's content." He grins, completely missing my disgust. "That's the beauty of modern relationships. You're already doing it anyway—why not get paid?"
"Because it's not transactional. Because what Ryder and I have isn't—" I stop myself. "We're not a storyline. We're people."
"People who could both benefit from strategic partnership visibility." He leans in, conspiratorial. "Look, I get it. You want to pretend this is all organic and real. But you came to Alaska to rebrand after a public breakup. Ryder needed a girlfriend to improve his image. You both got what you needed. Why pretend it's more than that?"
"Because it is more than that," I say, surprised by how fierce my voice sounds. "And if you can't see the difference between strategic content and actual human connection, that's your problem, not mine."
I walk away before he can respond, pulse pounding in my ears.
Everything's content. You both got what you needed.
Chad's voice echoes:Everything with you is a performance.
What if Preston's right? What if this whole thing—the coffee dates, the snowball fights, the almost-kisses—what if it's all just another show I didn't realize I was putting on?
"Hey."
I look up to find Ryder standing there, still in his practice gear, hair damp with sweat.
"Hey yourself," I manage.
"You okay? You look..." He trails off.
"Preston cornered me."
His jaw tightens. "What did he say?"
"Doesn't matter." I force a smile. "How was practice?"
"Long. Tiring. Coach is in playoff mode already." He hesitates. "Want to go skating? The outdoor rink should be empty."
"Isn't that what you just spent two hours doing?"
"That was hockey skating. This would be..." He shrugs, almost shy. "Just skating. With you."
