LOGINMaya
By the time I moved back into my dorm two days later, Northridge had fully lost its mind. Someone had taped printed screenshots of me and Leo across the journalism building hallway like we were celebrities instead of victims of a badly managed public relations stunt. One photo showed him leaning toward me at the café while I glared at him like I wanted to commit a felony. Another had already been turned into a meme. ICE KING FINALLY DEFROSTED. I ripped one down on my way upstairs. My phone buzzed before I even reached my floor. Cassandra: Smile more today. Charity event starts at four. I nearly threw the phone into the stairwell. When I pushed open my dorm door, Chloe was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a laptop balanced on her knees. She looked up immediately, and for one awkward second neither of us spoke. Then she smiled.Not fake. Not forced. Just softer than before. “You’re back.”Something inside my chest loosened a little. “Looks like it.”She closed the laptop and stood. “I cleaned your side while you were gone because your plants looked like they were planning revenge.” I blinked at her. “You watered them?” “Twice,” she said proudly. “One of them still looks emotionally damaged though.”A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. The tension between us didn’t disappear completely, but it shifted enough to breathe around. “I’m still mad at you,” Chloe admitted as she crossed her arms lightly. “But I’ve had time to calm down, and honestly, campus is acting like you married a prince of dating an emotionally constipated hockey player.” I dropped my bag onto the chair beside my desk. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me this week.” “I’m serious.” She tilted her head. “Are you okay?” The question caught me off guard because nobody had asked it without wanting gossip attached. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. Chloe studied me for a second before sighing. “Well, unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is currently trending again.” She tossed her phone toward me.The screen showed a promotional poster for the charity skating event scheduled for that evening. LEO THORNE & MAYA ELLISON THE CAMPUS POWER COUPLE LIVE APPEARANCE “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Oh, it gets worse,” Chloe said. “There’s already a poll asking if you two are secretly engaged.” I stared at the screen in horror. “People need jobs.” “People need hobbies,” Chloe corrected. Three hours later, I was standing at the edge of Northridge Ice Arena wearing rental skates and regretting every decision that had led me here. The rink was packed with students, cameras, sponsors, and screaming fans pressed against the barriers holding handmade signs with mine and Leo’s names covered in blue glitter. I hated all of them.Cassandra adjusted my scarf with the precision of a military commander preparing someone for war. “Remember,” she said smoothly, “the goal tonight is warmth, chemistry, and intimacy.” “I would rather eat the ice.” “Noted,” she replied without emotion. Behind her, Leo stepped onto the rink in full Northridge practice gear, effortlessly balanced on his skates like the ice belonged to him personally. The crowd erupted the second they saw him.The Ice King. He looked exactly like the nickname sounded. Cold. Untouchable. Beautiful in the kind of way that irritated me on principle.Then his eyes landed on me.His mouth twitched immediately. “You look terrified.” “I am terrified.” “That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve said since we met.” I glared at him. “I hope your skate blade snaps.” “Careful, sweetheart,” he said lightly as cameras flashed around us. “People are watching our love story.” “I hate you.” “I hate you more.”Unfortunately, the way he said it sounded almost affectionate.Cassandra clapped once. “Perfect. More eye contact. Less murder.” I stepped onto the ice and immediately regretted existing.My skate slid sideways hard enough that panic shot through me. I caught the railing before I could fall, dignity barely surviving the impact. Somewhere behind me, Leo laughed.Not politely. Actually laughed. “Oh my God,” he said, skating effortlessly backward in front of me. “You skate like a dying giraffe.” “I wasn’t aware giraffes skated.” “That one definitely shouldn’t.” I tightened my grip on the railing. “I don’t need your help.” “You very clearly do.” “I said I’m fine.” “You’re one second away from becoming a campus memorial.” The cameras loved it.I could hear students laughing, recording, whispering.Leo extended a hand toward me anyway, his expression smug enough to qualify as criminal behavior. “Come on, Camera Girl.” “I’d rather crawl.” “Cute. But if you crack your skull open on sponsored ice, Cassandra might actually kill both of us.”I ignored his hand and pushed forward on my own. Big mistake.My skate caught awkwardly beneath me, and suddenly the world tilted violently sideways.A sharp gasp erupted from the crowd. Then strong arms caught me before I hit the ice. Leo’s grip locked around my waist, pulling me hard against his chest while his skates carved smoothly backward to steady us both. My hands instinctively grabbed his shoulders, and for one humiliating second, our faces ended up inches apart. The arena exploded.People screamed.Phones lifted everywhere.Flash after flash lit up around us.Leo looked down at me with an expression I couldn’t read immediately because his usual arrogance had disappeared for half a second. “You okay?” he asked quietly.I swallowed. Unfortunately, my stomach chose that exact moment to betray me completely. “I hate this,” I muttered.His mouth curved slightly. “You’re welcome.”The moment lasted maybe three seconds before reality crashed back in. “Again!” someone shouted from the crowd. “Kiss her, Thorne!” “Oh my God, they’re actually in love!”I immediately shoved away from him. “We are absolutely not doing that.” Leo looked deeply entertained now. “Relax, Maya. I don’t want to kiss you either.” “Good.” “Your skating posture alone killed the mood.” I narrowed my eyes. “You are the worst person alive.” “And yet you’re still holding my arm.”I looked down. Damn it.I let go instantly.The event somehow got worse after that. By the halfway point, social media clips of Leo catching me had already spread across campus accounts. Students were replaying the moment on giant screens near the concession stands while making dramatic edits with romantic music. I wanted legal action.Then Hayes arrived.Jordan Hayes walked into the rink with the kind of grin people wore right before starting fires. His teammates followed behind him, already laughing at something. Leo stiffened beside me immediately.The air changed.Hayes noticed it too. “Well, look at this,” he called loudly enough for nearby cameras to catch. “The Ice King finally found himself a princess.” Leo’s jaw locked.I could practically feel the anger rolling off him. Hayes skated closer, eyes sharp with amusement. “Careful, Thorne. Girls usually leave eventually, right?” Everything stopped.The crowd quieted almost instantly because even people who loved drama understood when a line had been crossed. Leo moved before I fully realized it.Not toward me. Toward Hayes.Fast.Pure fury flashed across his face so suddenly it startled me. “Oh no,” Noah muttered somewhere nearby. Hayes smirked wider. “What? Hit me again. Maybe the scouts will send flowers this time.”Leo lunged.I reacted without thinking.I stepped directly between them. “Stop!”Leo nearly collided with me before managing to halt himself at the last second, his chest rising hard with anger. “Maya, move.” “No.”His eyes snapped to mine, ice blue and furious. “He wants this,” I said sharply. “That’s literally why he’s here.” Hayes laughed behind me. “Looks like your girlfriend has better self-control than you.” Leo’s hands curled into fists.For one dangerous second, I genuinely thought he might ignore me and swing anyway.Then he stepped back. The tension stayed thick enough to choke on, but the fight didn’t happen.Cameras flashed wildly around us.The crowd started whispering again. Hayes looked disappointed.And somehow that felt worse. Later, after the event finally ended, Leo cornered me beside the arena hallway while staff packed equipment around us. “What the hell was that?” I folded my arms. “Me preventing you from ruining your career again.” His laugh came out cold. “Please. You stepped in because it looked heroic on camera.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” “You are unbelievable.” “You love the attention now,” he continued harshly. “Don’t pretend you don’t. Campus worships you because you stood between the big bad hockey player and the evil rival.” Anger snapped through me so fast I saw red.Before logic could intervene, I grabbed the iced coffee sitting on the nearby table and threw it directly at his jersey. The liquid splashed across the navy fabric.Silence. Complete silence.Leo looked down slowly at the stain spreading across the number ten on his chest. Then back at me.No one moved.No one breathed. Finally, he wiped coffee from his jaw with one hand and gave a short, dangerous laugh. “You’re insane.” “And you’re a narcissistic jerk.” Something almost like admiration flickered briefly across his face before disappearing again. I turned and walked away before I could say something worse. My phone buzzed before I reached the parking lot. Unknown Number: He breaks everything he touches. Ask what happened to his mother.Maya The worst part about becoming part of a story was discovering how little control you actually had over it because once enough people decided they were interested in your life, your opinions stopped mattering, your explanations stopped mattering, and eventually even reality stopped mattering, while assumptions, theories, edited clips, and carefully selected moments began replacing truth in the public imagination until complete strangers somehow felt entitled to analyze conversations they had never heard, emotions they had never experienced, and relationships they did not understand, which was exactly what had happened to Leo and me as the playoff run continued attracting larger audiences and the fake relationship became something far bigger than either of us had ever agreed to.Every day seemed to introduce a new example.A video from campus would go viral.A photograph would appear online.A thirty-second interaction would beco
Leo The most frustrating thing about NHL interviews was that very few of them felt like conversations about hockey despite the fact that hockey was supposedly the reason everyone occupied the room in the first place, because scouts could watch game footage whenever they wanted, analyze statistics with software far more advanced than anything available to players, and evaluate physical performance through endless reports compiled by coaches and analysts, yet when draft season arrived they suddenly became obsessed with personality, decision-making, emotional stability, leadership philosophy, and every other subject capable of exposing weaknesses that could not be measured on a scoresheet, which meant I spent more time discussing my behavior than my actual game.By that point I had already completed multiple interviews with different organizations, each one following a familiar pattern where representatives from professional teams politely introduced themselves
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
Leo The worst part about rebuilding a reputation was realizing that nobody actually cared about redemption as much as they claimed to, because the moment you gave people evidence that you were improving they immediately demanded more proof, more consistency, more perfec
Maya The playoff race had somehow managed to make the entire campus even more unbearable than the fake relationship already had, because every win pushed Northridge closer to the postseason while simultaneously turning Leo into a larger celebrity than before, and after
Maya The morning after the rivalry win felt less like a celebration and more like the aftermath of a controlled explosion, because everywhere I looked the campus seemed determined to relive every second of Leo Thorne’s overtime goal as if it had personally saved their s
Leo The arena felt alive in a way that only playoff-caliber hockey could make possible, every section packed with students, alumni, scouts, reporters, and fans who had spent the entire night screaming themselves hoarse as Northridge and Hayes University battled through sixty minute







