Chapter 5 Ace wants to fake date me?

Summer's Pov:

“Just hear me out for two minutes,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. The arrogant smirk was gone, replaced by tense seriousness. He stepped closer, cornering me against one of the massive stone pillars. “You didn't even let me finish. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“There is nothing mutually beneficial about me faking a relationship with a walking scandal,” I hissed, my voice dropping as a couple of freshmen eyed us. I pushed my glasses up my nose, my fingers trembling. “You’re my best friend’s half-brother, Ace! Do you have any idea how messy that is? Brooks would…he would hate it.”

“Exactly,” Ace murmured, a sharp glint in his gray eyes. He nodded back toward the library windows.

Through the clear glass, I could see the silhouettes of Brooks and Taylor. They were walking out now, Brooks carrying her designer backpack while she laughed and swatted his arm. They looked picture-perfect.

“Look at him, Summer,” Ace’s voice dropped low. “I’ve known my brother his entire life. He’s thick-headed and complacent. Right now, he thinks he has you figured out. He thinks you’re his permanent safety net. I can change that. I can make that look on his face be about you instead.”

My throat tightened. I looked away from the window, staring down at my sneakers. His words hit too close, exposing the raw wound from last night.

“Six months,” Ace pressed, stepping into my line of vision. “Fake date me, tutor me through Harrison’s final project, and you get your guy. I get my draft spot, you get your pride back. A win is a win.”

I stared at him, my heart hammering. The offer was a dangerous temptation. For a split second, I imagined walking into the next hockey after-party on the captain’s arm. I imagined Brooks finally seeing me as a woman, not a little sister.

But then I looked at Ace—at the dangerous curve of his jaw and the bad-boy reputation that followed him like a storm cloud.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, it’s a terrible idea. I’m not a liar, Ace. And I’m definitely not your project.”

Before he could argue, I pushed past his shoulder.

ACE Pov

The heavy door of my Jeep slammed shut, cutting off the muted roar of the campus courtyard. I reached into my cup holder, pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and lit one. I leaned my head back against the leather headrest, inhaling the sharp smoke.

Damn it.

I watched Summer’s battered little sedan pull out of the student lot through the haze of gray smoke. She had shut me down flat. I rubbed my jaw, frustration building in my chest. She was smarter than I gave her credit for. But I was entirely out of options. If I didn't fix Harrison’s class, my career was over before it started.

Suddenly, the screen of my phone lit up on the passenger seat. My chest tightened the second I saw the caller ID. The Governor.

I let out a long breath and answered. I didn't even have time to say hello before my father’s cold voice barked through the line.

“Ace. I assume you’ve seen your midterm results.”

I clenched my jaw, tapping ash from my cigarette out the cracked window. “Yeah. I saw them.”

“Unbelievable,” he sneered. “The athletic director called my office an hour ago out of courtesy. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have my colleagues ask why my oldest son is failing a basic humanities prerequisite? Brooks managed a perfect 3.8 last semester while carrying his defensive lines.”

The comparison felt like a knife in an old wound. It was always Brooks. The golden boy.

“I’m handling it,” I said, my voice low, my pulse throbbing.

“You’re throwing away an NHL legacy because you’re too undisciplined to open a textbook,” my father barked. “Why must you always be a thorn in the flesh for everyone around you, Ace? If you sit on that bench this season, I’m cutting off your trust allotment. You will finish your degree on student loans like the rest of the failures.”

“Go to hell.” I growled.

I slammed my thumb down on the red button, cutting the call.

I dropped the phone onto the floorboard, my chest heaving. The air inside the Jeep felt too thick. My hands were shaking, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of my neck.

Suddenly, the passenger door clicked open.

Before I could register it, a heavy black backpack thudded into the footwell. Summer climbed into the passenger seat, pulled the door shut with a loud slam, and turned toward me with her arms crossed tightly over her oversized gray sweatshirt. Her thick reading glasses sat squarely on her nose, her dark blonde hair still a chaotic mess.

She didn't look at my shaking hands or mention the smoke. She just stared at me, jaw set in a fierce line.

“Fine,” Summer said flatly. “Six months of dating. We start tomorrow.”

I blinked, letting out the breath I’d been holding. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she said, narrowing her eyes behind her lenses as she pointed a finger at my face. “But on one condition, Hunters. This is strictly a business transaction to save your career and my dignity. No strings attached. No catching feelings. Clear?”

A slow smirk returned to my face. I leaned back against my seat, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray.

“Crystal clear, sweetheart,” I murmured.