Chapter 5 The Rules of the Rink

Elena

The walk back from the coffee shop was quiet. Julian carried my violin case. He stayed close but didn’t crowd me. I appreciated that. No forced conversation. No jokes. Just presence. That was enough.

We reached the North Arena. Concrete walls, steel doors, ice glinting under dim lights. My temporary fortress. Julian unlocked the gate and held it open. I stepped in first, feeling the familiar cold bite of the arena air.

We went to Skybox. 4. Broken glass had been cleaned up, but the empty window still made the room feel exposed. Cold drafts came from the rink below. Julian sat across from me, notebook open, pen in hand. Out of place. But willing to try.

“So,” he said, scanning the first page. “Socrates. He asked too many questions, right?”

“Basically,” I said, watching him. He really was trying. Even if he struggled.

“Julian,” I said carefully, “why are you failing this class? You’re not stupid.”

He shrugged. “I’m busy. Dad calls every night about stats. The coach wants six hours of ice practice a day. When I open the book, it’s just… noise.”

I felt a pang. I knew what it was like to have a parent who only cared about results. Mom had been my first violin teacher. She never accepted less than perfection.

“Ethics isn’t noise,” I said gently. “It’s about choices. When two options are hard, what do you do? Who do you want to be?”

He looked at me long. “Who do you want to be, Elena? Besides someone hiding in hockey rinks?”

I looked away. Thought of Marcus. Of threats, fear, strings pulling tight. “Someone who isn’t afraid of a ringing phone. Someone who can play without looking over her shoulder.”

“He was a violinist too?” Julian asked quietly.

I nodded. “Prodigy. Everyone loved him. But he couldn’t control me. When I ended it, he threatened me. Said if he couldn’t have me, no one else could. That he’d ruin my hands.”

Julian’s jaw tightened, and his hand twitched toward mine, slow and deliberate, like he was weighing every possibility. My chest thumped, and I froze. I could tell he wanted to touch me, maybe just a brush of his fingers to reassure me, but he didn’t. He stopped at the “three feet." rule, hovering there like the air between us carried more meaning than words. Part of me wanted to pull back, keep the space safe, but another part of me wanted him to close the distance, to feel solid and steady, even for a second.

His eyes locked with mine, intense and careful. For a moment, there was no Ice Queen act, no rules, just him noticing every tremor in my body.

I could see the tension in his shoulders, the tight line of his jaw. He wanted to do something, to make it easier, but he respected the line I’d drawn. 

When he finally let his hand drop, slowly, deliberately, it wasn’t the touch that mattered; it was the intention. Knowing he had wanted to reach me, even if he didn’t, was enough to make me believe I could trust him.

“He won’t touch your hands,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

For the first time, I believed him. Real belief.

We spent the next three hours studying. I explained concepts simply. He actually listened. Quick learner when not distracted by his own pressure.

Sometimes, I caught him glancing at me. Watching my expressions and reactions. Sometimes, silently smiling at a word I’d said wrong. Other times, focused, serious, trying to process.

The arena felt safe. Empty. Cold, yes, but quiet enough for study. And for the first time in a long time, I felt I wasn’t constantly under threat. Presence mattered. Julian’s presence. Shield. Bodyguard.

We took breaks. I practiced a few scales while he read notes, pretending to focus, but sneaking glances. I didn’t correct him. Not tonight. Let him feel comfortable. Let him know he wasn’t just helping me. He was part of this pact.

When we finished, the arena darkened. Ice reflecting faint lights. Julian walked me to the exit. I felt small in the giant space, but not unsafe. I felt… protected.

“See you tomorrow, Princess,” he said, key in hand.

“Goodnight, Jules,” I said, taking it. Warm, steady.

The walk back to the dorm was quiet. I held the key tightly. Thought about the way Julian had looked at Marcus in the coffee shop. The way he stayed near me was protective.

For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was constantly hiding. Ice Queen mode is down. Vulnerable, but not exposed.

I realized the deal wasn’t just about passing ethics. Or even safety. It was about trust. Control. Balance.

And I was beginning to let someone in.

The next morning, the campus buzzed. News of Julian and me had spread exactly as planned. Rumors, whispers. Students looked and whispered but didn’t approach. My shield worked.

Even my teammates were different. No jokes. No mocking. Awareness. Respect, maybe fear.

Dad’s calls started again. Same pressure. Same expectations. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Julian was here. Shield in place.

We met outside the gym after my morning classes. He was waiting. Calm. Solid. Real.

“You look tired,” he said.

“Family stuff,” I replied. Straight face.

“Ready for round two of Socrates?”

“Actually,” I said, “today, we change location. There’s a small park near the library. Public. Quiet. Good for the fake dating part.”

“Sounds good,” he said, relaxing slightly.

We walked together. Shoulder to shoulder, but not touching. Safe distance. Presence mattered more than proximity.

I noticed his gaze on me. But he didn’t comment. Just stayed close. Shadow, shield.

We sat on a bench. Open books, notebooks scattered. I explained ethics. He asked questions. Real questions. Not casual, not sarcastic. Focused. Eager to understand.

I watched him struggle, succeed, and nod at my explanations. Quick learner. Brilliant in a different way than Marcus. A different kind of intelligence.

Hours passed. I forgot to check the time. Forgotten worries, momentarily. Just focus. Study. Safety. Shield in place. Pact working.

He glanced at me once. Small smile. Eyes careful. Respectful. Protective.

I let myself relax. Just a little.

When the park emptied, we packed up. Walked back. Quiet again. He stayed near, careful, alert. I realized presence was enough. No words. No physical gestures. Just… protection.

And I believed him. Fully.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel fear pressing down. I felt control. Safety. Trust.

Three feet. Shield in place. The pact was maintained.

But I also realized something else. I felt… comfortable around him. Safe. And maybe a little… curious.

Julian wasn’t just a shield. Not just a fake boyfriend. He was someone I could rely on. Trust.

And that trust, fragile as it was, felt powerful.