Mag-log inMaya POV
The contract was still warm in my hands. My phone vibrated, then again and it didn’t stop. I frowned, shifting the contract under my arm as I pulled my phone out. Notifications stacked on top of each other so fast that the screen lagged for a second. Northridge Spill. I opened it. [EXCLUSIVE]: The Ice King’s Heart Melts? Sources say Leo Thorne’s rink-side rage was a defense of his secret girlfriend, film student Maya Ellison. I read it twice, then a third time, slower. My name didn’t look like mine anymore,It looked… staged.”You leaked it.” My voice came out quieter than I expected, but it still cut clean through the room. Cassandra didn’t look up from her phone. “Of course we did.” “I haven’t even signed the last page.” “That’s a technicality.” I stared at her. “You turned me into a headline before I agreed to it.” She finally glanced up, calm as ever. “If we waited for your consent, the narrative would’ve already been written without us.” I felt something tight settle in my chest. Not panic.Just… pressure. Leo let out a short, rough laugh from where he leaned against the wall. “Welcome to the show, Camera Girl,” he said. “You’re not behind the lens anymore.” I shot him a look” and you’re not the main character you think you are.” “Never said I was,” he replied, pushing off the wall. “But I’m definitely the one everyone’s watching.” My phone buzzed again and again. Messages this time.Unknown numbers. Group chats I didn’t remember joining and I*******m requests are flooding in. I opened one without thinking. Is it true??? How long have you been hiding him? You don’t even look like his type… I locked the screen. Like if I left it open, it would keep talking. The office door slammed open.”Is it true?”It was Jax. Loe’s best friend. He looked like he’d run the entire length of campus breath uneven, jacket half-zipped, hair a mess. Behind him, Noah hovered, quieter but just as tense. Jax’s eyes landed on Leo first. “Tell me the Spill page is making things up again.”Leo didn’t answer right away. He just straightened, pulling that familiar mask over his face. The one who said nothing touched him. “Go back to the bus,” he said. “The bus is chaos,” Noah cut in, holding up his phone. “People are already outside. Like an actual crowd. Not just students.” Jax’s gaze shifted to me.” Her?” he said. Not rude, just… confused.Like I didn’t fit the picture. I crossed my arms. “Try not to sound so shocked.” “I’m not shocked,” he said quickly. “I just since when” .”Since now,” Leo answered flatly. Jax frowned. “Leo” “Drop it.”The tone wasn’t loud. But it worked. Jax stepped back, but his eyes didn’t leave me. “This better not be some PR stunt.” I almost laughed. Leo didn’t.” Out,” he said. Noah hesitated a second longer, then nudged Jax toward the door. “We’ll talk later.” The door closed behind them. Silence pressed in again.l exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. “This is insane.” “No,” Cassandra said. “This is working.”I turned to her. “You call this working?”She gestured toward my phone. “Check your engagement.” “I don’t care about engagement.” “You will.”My phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a notification. It was a call. Chloe my best friend. l stared at the name for a second before rejecting it then a message followed immediately. MAYA. WHY IS LEO THORNE POSTING YOUR STUFF? My stomach dropped. I turned to Leo. “What did you do?”He held up his phone, completely unbothered. “Posted.” “What did you post?” “A picture.” “Of what?”He turned the screen toward me. My camera bag.Taken ten minutes ago. Right here in this office. The angle was slightly off, like he didn’t care about framing. No caption.Just a blue heart. I blinked. “A blue heart?” “I hate blue hearts.”He shrugged. “Didn’t ask.” “I hate you.” “That’s mutual.” My grip tightened around my phone. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” “Yeah,” he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “I made it real.” “It’s not real!” “It doesn’t have to be,” he shot back. “It just has to look like it.”l stepped closer before I could stop myself. “You don’t get to drag me into your mess and then act like this is a game.” His expression shifted just slightly.” It’s not a game,” he said quietly. “It’s damage control.” “For you.” “For both of us,” he corrected. I almost argued. But he wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. The door handle clicked again. Before anyone could move, it swung open and this time, the noise hit first. Voices. Shouting. Phone.Crowds. “Leo! Over here!” “Maya! Is it true?” “Are you really dating him?”I froze. For a second, I didn’t move then Leo stepped forward. Not rushed. Like he’d done this a hundred times. He paused just long enough to glance back at me “Stay close,” he said under his breath. “I don’t need” His hand found mine. It was deliberate. Like he was placing a piece exactly where it needed to go. The noise outside got louder. Flashes hit my eyes the second we stepped out. Too bright.People everywhere. Students. Reporters. Phones held high like weapons. “Leo! Did you punch him for her?” “Maya, how long have you been together?” “Is this why you lost control?” My instinct was to pull away. To step back. To disappear. His grip tightened just slightly. “Look at me,” he murmured. I did. Didn’t mean to. But I did.“Breathe,” he said. I exhaled. Slow. “Good,” he added. “Now smile.” “I’m not smiling.” “Then pretend.”The cameras flashed again. I forced something that probably looked like a smile. “Leo!” someone shouted. “Is she the reason for the fight?”He didn’t even pause.”Yes.” The word landed clean and Confident. Like there was no other answer. The crowd reacted instantly, voices rising, phones lifting higher. Flashes blinded us. Leo’s fingers locked with mine, dragging me into the chaos. Leo? I whispered, the noise of the crowd fading as I looked at his face. He didn't look at me. He was staring at a black sedan parked across the street the same one I'd seen following his bus three weeks ago. Don't look," he hissed, pulling me into the car and slamming the door. "And whatever you do, Maya, don't ever ask me why I really hit him. “Let’s just focus on giving them a show.”Maya By the time the second week of the conference semifinals arrived, the anonymous letters had somehow become one of the most discussed topics on campus despite the fact that nobody knew who was writing them, nobody knew why they were being written, and nobody possessed any actual evidence supporting the increasingly ridiculous theories spreading across social media, student forums, and hockey fan accounts, yet that complete lack of information seemed to encourage speculation rather than discourage it, creating a situation where people felt remarkably comfortable inventing explanations for a mystery that should not have mattered nearly as much as everyone insisted it did.The playoff run only made everything worse because Northridge remained one of the biggest stories in collegiate hockey while Redemption Season continued attracting viewers at a rate that surprised even Cassandra, causing every minor development surrounding the team to become public discuss
Leo The difference between regular playoff hockey and conference semifinal hockey could not be explained properly to people who had never lived inside it because the intensity was not simply higher, the pressure was not merely greater, and the stakes were not just more important, rather everything became sharper, faster, heavier, and more unforgiving at the same time, while every mistake carried consequences that seemed magnified beneath national attention and every shift felt capable of changing an entire season, which was exactly why the atmosphere surrounding Northridge during the week leading into the semifinal series felt less like preparation for a sporting event and more like preparation for a controlled collision that everybody knew was coming yet nobody could fully prepare for.The team we were facing had spent most of the season sitting at the top of the conference standings, earning a reputation as the most complete roster in the league through a c
Maya The further the documentary moved away from the polished redemption story Cassandra originally envisioned and the closer it moved toward an honest examination of hockey pressure, leadership expectations, media manipulation, and the emotional cost of living beneath constant public scrutiny, the more obvious it became that our conflict was no longer a creative disagreement but a fundamental battle over what kind of story deserved to be told, because Cassandra viewed the project as a product designed to maximize attention while I increasingly viewed it as a record of real people carrying impossible expectations, and somewhere between those two perspectives the production itself had started dividing into opposing camps.What frustrated me most was that the footage spoke for itself because every hour I spent reviewing material from the season revealed the same truth over and over again, namely that the most compelling moments had nothing to do with romance an
Leo If there was one thing I had learned during my years playing competitive hockey, it was that attention rarely arrived without complications because praise created expectations, criticism created pressure, and curiosity usually created problems, which was exactly why I made the decision to ignore the anonymous note sitting inside my equipment bag after reading it for the third time the previous night, convincing myself that whoever wrote it was simply another person fascinated by the ongoing circus surrounding my life and that spending energy thinking about a random piece of paper would be a waste of time when conference semifinals, draft evaluations, captaincy reviews, and playoff preparation already occupied enough space inside my head. The strategy worked for approximately twelve hours. Maybe less. Because the moment I entered the locker room the next morning, Noah was already waiting with the expression o
Maya If somebody had told me at the beginning of the semester that a fake relationship with the most frustrating hockey player on campus would eventually become one of the biggest stories in college sports media, I would have laughed directly in their face and walked away before they could continue the conversation, yet somehow that ridiculous prediction had become my reality because Northridge’s playoff run had transformed every aspect of public attention surrounding the team, while Leo’s growing national profile, the documentary’s unexpected popularity, and the internet’s unhealthy obsession with our supposed relationship had combined into something so overwhelming that I could no longer open a social media application without seeing my own face staring back at me beside his.The situation grew worse with every playoff victory because success attracted attention and attention attracted money, while sponsors who had never cared about college hockey suddenly
Leo The celebration from securing playoff advancement lasted less than twenty-four hours before reality returned with all the force of a body check against the boards, because success in college hockey never stayed comfortable for long and every victory simply created another expectation, another headline, another conversation about whether you could do it again when the pressure doubled and the margin for error disappeared, which was exactly why I found myself standing outside Coach Reynolds’ office early the next morning with a headache building behind my eyes and a feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with excitement and everything to do with knowing that nobody called a private meeting after a playoff series unless there was something unpleasant waiting on the other side of the door. The office smelled faintly of coffee and old game tape when I stepped inside, and Coach barely looked up from the stack of papers spread across his
Leo I should have walked away after asking the question because nothing useful ever came from trying to understand Maya Ellison, and experience had already taught me that every conversation with her eventually turned into an argument disguised as honesty, yet for some reason I foun
Maya The deeper I got into the documentary footage, the less it resembled the glossy redemption project Cassandra had originally pitched and the more it began looking like an honest record of a hockey program struggling under pressure, because every hour of video revealed another c
Maya The first thing I noticed when I walked into the rink that afternoon was not the noise, the drills, or even the tension hanging over the team after another difficult stretch of games, but the fact that Leo Thorne was standing with the second line during warmups whi
Leo The loss followed us all the way back to campus like a shadow none of us could outrun, because no matter how many times Coach reminded us that one defeat would not define the season, every player in that locker room understood exactly how much damage it could cause







