Page 31 of Faking the Rules

"It got bad enough that Coach noticed, started questioning my judgment, my stability. With NHL scouts coming to watch, the timing couldn't have been worse."

"So you needed a girlfriend," I surmise. "A stable, drama-free relationship to convince him you were focused."

"Yes," Declan admits. "And in a moment of desperation, I approached Kaitlyn. Thought if she would go along with it for a little while, that Coach would back off."

"But she refused."

"She wanted more than I could give her," he says carefully. "Commitment, exclusivity, public declarations. Things I wasn't ready for, especially not with her."

"So you found someone else to play the role," I say, unable to keep the hurt from my voice. "Someone who wouldn't demand those things. Someone who had her own reasons for agreeing to the arrangement."

"Yes," he acknowledges, not defending himself, simply stating the truth. "But Ellie, the moment I really got to know you—not just as the scary-smart girl from class, but as you—everything changed."

"How?" I challenge, needing to hear him articulate what I've been feeling, needing confirmation that I'm not alone in this confusing evolution from false to genuine.

He turns toward me fully, his eyes intent on mine. "You challenge me. Not just academically, but fundamentally. You see through the bullshit, the performance I put on for everyone else. You expect more from me, and it makes me want to be more." His hand lifts, hesitates, then settles back in his lap—respecting my unspoken boundaries even now. "I started fallingfor you that day in the coffee shop, when you called me on my assumptions and refused to be impressed by anything except the content of my character."

The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his expression—they disarm my defenses, silencing the cynical voice that insists this is just another performance, another role he's playing to get what he wants.

"I was never playing a role with you," he continues softly. "Maybe at the very beginning, but it stopped being fake so quickly I barely noticed the transition. All I knew was that suddenly, the arrangement didn't matter anymore. You did."

"And what about now?" I ask, the question that's been haunting me since our first real kiss. "What is this between us, Declan? What are we doing?"

"Whatever you want," he says without hesitation. "Friends, academic partners, something more—I'm in, Ellie. For however much or little you're willing to give. But I'm done pretending what I feel for you isn't real."

My heart thunders in my chest, his words simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. This is so far from the controlled arrangement we began with, so far from the safe, defined parameters I thought I wanted.

"I'm scared," I admit, the confession costing me more than he can know. "Not just of you, or of us, but of what happens when this ends. Because things like this always end, Declan. People leave. They change their minds. They find someone better, someone who fits more neatly into their world."

"Is that what you think will happen?" he asks softly. "That I'll wake up one day and decide you're not worth the effort? That I'll want someone who doesn't challenge me, doesn't push me to be better?"

Put that way, it sounds absurd, paranoid even. But the fear remains, bone-deep and persistent. "You're going to the NHL,"I point out. "I'm going to Columbia. Those worlds don't exactly align."

"They can," he insists. "If we want them to. Look, I'm not asking for promises or guarantees, Ellie. I'm just asking for a chance—a real chance, no arrangements, no performances. Just us figuring it out together, one day at a time."

The hope in his eyes, the earnestness in his voice—they crumble the last of my resistance. Because the truth, the terrifying, exhilarating truth, is that I want this too. Want him, want us, want the chance to discover what might grow between us without the artificial constraints of our original deal.

"One day at a time," I agree softly.

The smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise after the longest night, transforming his features with a joy so genuine it steals my breath. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I confirm, a small laugh escaping me at his boyish enthusiasm. "But I need honesty, Declan. Complete honesty, even when it's hard. I can't do this if I'm always wondering what you're not telling me, what's performance and what's real."

"Absolute honesty," he promises immediately. "Starting now. Ask me anything, and I'll tell you the truth. No matter what."

I consider this, the dozens of questions still swirling in my mind. But one rises to the surface, the one I need answered before we go any further: "Why me? Really. After Kaitlyn said no, why did you choose me specifically?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Because you scared me," he admits, a small smile playing at his lips. "You were the only person on campus who looked at me and saw nothing special, nothing worth impressing. You expected me to earn your respect, not just coast on reputation or charm." His eyes hold mine, intense and sincere. "I needed that, Ellie. Needed someone who wouldn't let me hide behind the performance, who would demand the real me. Even though I didn't realize it at the time."

The answer settles something inside me, a question I've been afraid to fully articulate even to myself. Not that I was second choice, but that I was somehow less—less beautiful, less social, less suitable for someone like him. But his answer suggests the opposite—that what drew him to me, what continues to draw him to me, are precisely the qualities that make me different from the Kaitlyns of his world.

"Okay," I say, unclenching my hands from their tight grip in my lap. "One day at a time. Real, not fake. No arrangement, no expiration date."

"No arrangement," he echoes, relief and joy mingling in his expression. "Except the kind where I get to take you to dinner right now.”

"I'd like that," I admit.

He stands, offering his hand—a question, not a demand. After only a moment's hesitation, I take it, let him pull me gently to my feet. His fingers intertwine with mine, warm and solid and real.

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