Chapter 6 Chapter 6

DAVIS’S POV

I send the text and wait for my phone to light up. One minute turns into three, then five, then ten, and still nothing.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and start the engine, people answer me immediately, sometimes people respond before I even finish typing.

Pearl read my message and decided silence was a valid answer. I drive toward practice trying not to think about it. By the time I pull into the arena parking lot, I’ve checked my phone twice already and still nothing.

“Stupid,” I mutter to myself. Inside the locker room, I reach for the athletic tape sitting in my stall.

One wrap around my fingers then another then another. The habit started years ago, nobody knows exactly when, not even me.

I tape my fingers before every practice, every game, sometimes when I’m stressed, when I’m angry and sometimes for absolutely no reason.

John says it’s weird, I say minding his business is free. “You’re doing it again.” I glance up, John is standing nearby holding a water bottle. “Doing what?”

“The finger thing.” I continue wrapping tape around my hand. “Very specific accusation.”

“You’ve retaped the same hand three times.” I look down, damn….he’s right. I rip the tape off, John watches me carefully. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“That’s usually code for not fine.” I shove my gloves into my locker. “Tired.”

“Tired because of hockey?”

“Obviously.” John doesn’t look convinced. Practice starts ten minutes later. 

The ice usually helps, once I’m out there, the noise fades and everything becomes simple again, move, think, react. No sponsors, reporters or family expectations. Just hockey but today, it doesn’t work.

My concentration keeps slipping, a bad pass, a missed shot, an assistant coach yelling something from the bench. I hear it all but still distracted.

During a water break, I grab my phone and there are no new messages. “What are we checking every five minutes?” John appears beside me, I nearly throw the bottle at him. “Nothing.”

“Huh.” He sounds deeply unconvinced. “You know,” he continues casually, “usually when somebody keeps checking their phone, it’s because of a girl.” I choke on water, John starts laughing. “Wow.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh my God, it is a girl.”

“You’re wrong” His grin grows wider. “Who is she? The mystery woman from the arena?” I stare, John raises both hands immediately. “Relax, half the internet talks about her.”

Unfortunately that doesn’t help because now I’m thinking about Pearl again.

The way she looked annoyed before speaking, the way she tapped her notebook every time I irritated her and the different colored pens she used for notes, blue, green, red.

Who even carries three pens, apparently Pearl Arlo and I have no idea of why I noticed. 

After practice I head home, instead of sleeping, eating or doing something normal. I end up watching game footage again, It’s another bad habit.

Whenever life gets messy, I watch old hockey games, missed opportunities, mistakes, the ugly stuff.

The victories never interest me much, the losses do. I know exactly where the drawer is before opening it. Inside sits a collection of old hockey pucks. Not trophies or championship souvenirs.

Failures, lakeside, last season, the worst game of my career. I kept the puck anyway, I still don’t know exactly why.

Maybe because forgetting mistakes feels dangerous, maybe because remembering them hurts enough to prevent new ones.

My phone vibrates finally, I grab it immediately, shit……It’s Felix. “Hello?”

“We need to talk.” That sentence never leads anywhere good, thirty minutes later I’m sitting inside Felix’s office.

He looks exactly the same as always, meanwhile I haven’t slept properly in weeks.

Felix closes a folder. “The meeting with Pearl didn’t go well.” I lean back. “What meeting?” His expression changes slightly. “You didn’t know?”

“No.” For the first time all afternoon, Felix actually looks surprised then annoyed. My family communicating would truly be too much to ask. “What meeting?” Felix exhales slowly. “We made Miss Arlo an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

“A relationship.” I blink then blink again. “A what?”

“A public relationship.” The room goes completely silent, surely this is a joke but It isn’t. “You’re serious.”

“Very.” I stare at him. “You tried paying a student to date me?” Felix immediately shakes his head. “That’s not what this is.”

“It sounds exactly like what this is.” His patience visibly thins. “The public responds positively whenever she’s associated with you.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Sponsors care, scouts care.” I laugh. “So this is what it’s all about” Felix folds his arms. “About what?”

“The business presentation.” His jaw tightens slightly. “Be realistic, Davis.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re emotional.” The word lands badly maybe because I’ve heard it my entire life. Always a problem needing management and never a person.

Felix continues. “The arrangement solves multiple issues.” I stand. “I’m not a project.”

“Davis…….”

“No.” For once I don’t lower my voice or calm down. “You want stability? Maybe stop treating my entire life like a damn marketing strategy.” The silence afterward feels sharp.

Felix watches me carefully like he’s seeing something unexpected maybe because usually I give in eventually. I leave before the conversation gets worse.

Hours later, I’m stretched across my couch with sports commentary playing quietly in the background.

The TV fills the apartment with enough noise to keep my thoughts from getting too loud, tonight isn’t helping.

My phone vibrates, social media notification. I almost ignore it then curiosity wins.

A photo of Pearl leaving Ford Sports Group headquarters fills the screen, taken from across the street. The caption sits underneath.

MYSTERY GIRL SECRETLY MEETING THE FORD FAMILY?

The comments are already exploding, thousands or tens of thousands. Speculation, rumors, theories, questions.

I stare at the screen because the internet already believes Pearl and I are involved and unless something changed while I wasn’t looking…….she hasn’t even agreed.