Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (16)

She’s still beaming when she finds me. “Why are you dressed like a stalker?”

I glance down at my outfit. “I’m incognito.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw a campus cop following you because you look suspicious as hell.” She leans forward on the table and pulls off my sunglasses. The move is slow and deliberate and makes my heart thud harder. “That’s better. Now, enlighten me about this secret meeting. Should we find a storage closet and get to it?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe I should have done this over the phone.

And have her ream you out for hiding behind your phone like a coward?

“Your picture is in the tabloids,” I say bluntly.

She cocks her head, taking a long sip of the coffee I ordered her. Sage’s hazel eyes widen like she’s still processing the information. “Oh shit. That’s probably why my phone’s been buzzing all morning.” She pulls it out, gawks at the screen before flipping it to me. Messages and follow requests fill her phone screen, and I wince.

I’m not even a full month into the league, and I can’t go on one date without it resulting in harassment. I feel terrible that my life could somehow disrupt someone else’s and I can’t do anything about it. I usually avoid thinking about how much worse it will get as the years go on.

One of our captains a few seasons ago was caught by a fan leaving the bar with a woman who wasn’t his wife. The slandering he got was deserved, but his pregnant wife didn’t need to go through that publicly. The media has no remorse for how their viewers treat innocent family members as long as they have their five minutes of airtime.

“For what it’s worth, this is the first time they’ve written girlfriend instead of fling or any other equally demeaning term.”

“I’ve always been told I make a good girlfriend. There’s just something wholesome about me.”

I snort. “They haven’t heard the shit that comes out of your mouth, then.”

She’s surprised by the joke, and I try not to look offended. I don’t often let myself relax long enough to bring the carefree Eli out.

“Anyway, I wanted to be the one to let you know, so you’re not caught off guard if some dude with a camera starts following you.”

“You can’t be serious.” She starts looking around the coffee shop as if she’ll see one of them here. “Since when did hockey players become a hot commodity?”

“Fuck if I know.”

She gives me a long, assessing look. “I see it though. You’re a slept-on breed of insanely hot men. This would’ve happened sooner or later.”

I can’t help it. “You think I’m hot?”

She takes an even longer sip of her coffee, and my smirk goes nowhere even though I know I shouldn’t be acting like this. Why am I flirting with her?

“I think my exact words were insanely hot.” Her gaze drops from my face to my arms and then back to her phone glowing on the table. “I mean, one picture with you, and I have thousands of follows. You might need an escape, rookie. I’ll be happy to help.”

“Why? So you can watch me skinny-dip in Lake Ontario?”

She bites her lip to keep from smiling. “Just trying to help you drown out the noise.”

“Or drown me,” I mutter.

Sage lights up with a smile, and I like it. Her gaze bounces around my face thoughtfully, before she straightens and her eyes widen.

“Oh my God, that’s it!” She watches me so intensely I have no choice but to listen. “We don’t have to escape anymore.”

“What?”

“We should date. You and me.”

My head rears. “Excuse me?”

She grimaces at my expression but continues. “Fake date. The last thing either of us needs is a real relationship. But if the media thinks you’re in a committed relationship they’ll leave you alone. And with you as my boyfriend, I can get the following I need on social media to get my dancing out there so the theater will notice me.”

I try to form words, but every single one fails me. She wants us to date?

“Look.” She unlocks her phone and opens the first article she’s mentioned in. “They’re not calling me a one-night stand. They think we’re in a relationship, which means if we confirmed those rumors, they would probably get off your back. Your real fans wouldn’t let that gossip fly if they knew you were committed. And I would get a chance to audition for NBT.”

“I thought what the ballet theater is doing is unethical?”

She shrugs. “If you can’t beat them, join them.”

What she’s saying isn’t wrong, and I’m sure her presence in my life might help get the media to stop their scrutiny, but that doesn’t mean I’d let her take the heat. Or that I want anyone—especially her—to have a chance to dig into my life.

“No.”

My refusal only lights a new fire in her eyes. She looks out the windows of the café, and her fingers thrum against the wooden table. “What if I tell you it’s for charity?”

“Is it for charity?”

She deflates. “No.”

Watching her excitement crumble produces an uncomfortable twinge in my chest.

“All the media has ever done is lie about you. Don’t you want to take back control?” she presses.