Chapter 4 The Public Debut

Julian

If I was going to be Elena’s shield, I wasn’t going to be subtle about it. I wanted everyone to see us.

The campus coffee shop, Common Grounds, was where rumors spread fast. If you wanted a story to travel, this was the place. I leaned against the brick wall near the entrance, wearing a leather jacket instead of the team hoodie. I wanted to look like her boyfriend, not just some athlete.

She arrived a few minutes later. Crowds of students quieted down. Elena looked expensive and sharp. White wool coat, tall boots, hair pulled back tight. Her jawline showed clearly, and I noticed the scratch on her cheek from the broken glass.

She stopped a few feet away. Eyes scanning the students whispering to each other.

“You’re staring at me,” she murmured.

“That’s part of the job, Rossi,” I said. Stepping closer, into her space. “Just look at me. Ignore everyone else.”

I took her heavy violin case from her. One hand. My other arm went around her waist. She froze, stiff as a board.

“Julian,” she hissed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m selling the story,” I whispered. Lips close to her hair. “Relax. Lean into me. You’re supposed to like me.”

Slowly, she shifted. Leaned her shoulder against my chest. Smaller than she seemed from afar. But she kept her head high as we walked toward the counter. Silence everywhere.

“Two black coffees,” I told the barista. Arm still around her. Thumb hooked in her coat belt.

A girl nearby whispered, “I heard he broke her window. Is he apologizing?”

“Looks more like he’s taking over,” her friend replied.

Elena’s face warmed red. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she did something that surprised me. She reached up and fixed the collar of my jacket with her fingers. Careful and intimate.

“You have a loose thread, Jules,” she said softly. Calm and sweet, carried across the room.

Jules. My sister calls me that. Hearing it from her felt like a challenge. I looked down at her. Blue eyes, sharp, bright with adrenaline. She wasn’t hiding behind me. She was using me as a weapon. And I realized I liked it.

We grabbed the coffees and took a table in the middle. Everyone could see. I sat close. Arms on the back of her chair, surrounding her.

“That was smart,” I muttered. “The nickname made it look real.”

“Not for you,” she said. Eyes on her cup. “Distraction. Look at the door.”

I followed her gaze. A man in a gray overcoat. Not a student. Older. Mid-twenties maybe. Perfect face, symmetrical, unnerving. Staring at her. Marcus.

I dropped my hand from her chair and put it firmly on her shoulder. Didn’t look at her. Looked at him. Eyes hard. Body ready. Message clear: cross the line, and there’s a consequence.

Marcus stayed for a few seconds, glanced at my hand on her shoulder, and looked at the hockey bag at my feet. Didn’t move. Turned and walked out.

Elena exhaled and slumped forward slightly. “He’s gone,” I said. Voice softer.

“For now,” she whispered. No Ice Queen here. Just a person tired of fear. “Thank you, Julian.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I said, sliding a textbook onto the table. “Two hours of Ethics. Still don’t know a Virtue from a Vibe.”

She laughed. Short. Real. “It’s called virtue ethics, you idiot. Open your book.”

We spent the next hour quietly, studying. I kept one arm on the back of her chair. She corrected my notes, pointed out definitions, and gave examples. I actually listened. And she laughed at some of my stupid questions.

Other students glanced. Whispered. But no one interrupted. Not with me there. Shield. Invisible message: hands off.

After a while, I realized something. She wasn’t stiff. Not tense. Not Ice Queen. Just focused. Comfortable. I didn’t need to hover. Just presence mattered.

“You’re really good at this,” she said quietly. “Keeping people away.”

“Been practicing,” I said. Tried casual. Felt tense anyway.

She smirked. “Good at pretending, too.”

I leaned closer. “Not pretending. Shielding.”

“Feels like both,” she murmured. Eyes down. Fingers tapping her notebook.

I let it go. No argument. Presence is enough. Silence enough.

When we finished, coffee long gone, book closed, the shop was nearly empty. I stood, offering my hand.

“See you tomorrow,” I said.

“Goodnight, Jules,” she replied. Hand in mine. Warm. Real.

Walking out, I realized the news had spread. Everyone saw us together. No whispers about broken windows. No jokes. Just… presence. Me, her. Message delivered.

We didn’t speak much on the walk back. The streets were quiet. She held the violin case close but relaxed. I stayed a step away, giving her space, keeping her safe.

Yet I noticed. She looked at me once, a short glance. Not Ice Queen. Face soft. Relief mixed with a hint of trust.

This pact, fake dating, a shield, and distance were starting to work. She laughed. Not at me. Not to hide fear. She simply laughed.

And I realized something. I didn’t just want to shield her. I wanted to see her safe and comfortable. Calm. Without fear.

But Marcus was still out there. Watching. Waiting. The threat is still real.

That night, walking back to the arena, I understood fully: this was bigger than a class or a fake relationship. Protection was only part of it. Survival. Trust. Presence. My own boundaries were tested.

I glanced at her. Smaller than I thought. Fragile in appearance. Strong where it counted. Capable of fighting back if she had to. But also someone who needed protection.

I clenched my jaw. Shield, bodyguard, fake boyfriend. Distance. Three feet. Yet closer than I’d ever been to anyone.

And as we entered the arena, the ice reflecting dim lights, I made a decision. No matter how complicated, messy, or tense this got I wasn’t letting anything happen to her.

Not Marcus. Not anyone.

I was her shield. And I was going to stay that way.