Chapter 4 Terms and Conditions #2
“Rule six,” she said, pushing forward. “We break up quietly after the championship. Mutual. Mature. No villain.”
Nico stared at the paper.
For some reason, that rule was the one that made him go still.
Not the touching. Not the public appearances. Not the fake exclusivity.
The ending.
Lena noticed the shift.
So did her father, apparently, because his gaze sharpened between them.
“After the championship,” Nico said.
“Yes.”
His mouth tightened. “Convenient.”
“It’s a natural endpoint.”
“For the campaign.”
“For both of us.”
The words came out too crisp.
Nico looked up.
For a second, Lena had the oddest feeling that he heard what she did not say.
That she needed an ending because endings were safer when scheduled.
That if something had a date attached, it could not sneak up and become something else.
That a breakup planned in advance was much less terrifying than wanting someone who could ruin everything.
But Nico Reyes could not know that.
He barely knew her.
So why did he look like he did?
Coach Hart stepped closer to the table. “That rule is non-negotiable.”
The moment broke.
Nico’s face hardened.
“Yes, Coach.”
The words were respectful.
The tone was not.
Her father caught it. “You have something to add?”
“No.”
“Good.”
The air tightened.
Lena hated being between them.
Not physically. Emotionally.
Her father on one side, controlled and certain. Nico on the other, all sharp edges and buried fire.
Both of them speaking in short sentences because neither knew what to do with fear except disguise it as authority.
Talia saved the meeting again. “Here is the initial schedule. First appearance is tomorrow morning. Campus coffee shop. Casual. Low stakes.”
Nico stared at her. “Being watched by half the university is low stakes?”
“Compared to donors?” Talia asked. “Yes.”
Lena took the schedule from her and scanned it.
Tomorrow: coffee shop.
Friday: practice content.
Saturday: youth clinic.
Monday: soft couple post.
Wednesday: student athlete feature.
Her eyes landed on the note beneath tomorrow’s appearance.
She went still.
Nico noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He leaned forward and turned the page toward himself.
Lena tried to pull it back.
Too late.
His eyes found the line.
Suggested visual: hand-holding across table or while exiting.
“No,” he said.
Talia sighed. “Nico.”
“No.”
“It’s hand-holding,” Lena said.
“I know what it is.”
“You said that about coffee too, and yet here we are.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“You shoved a rival player on camera, but interlacing fingers is where your courage ends?”
His eyes flashed.
Lena knew instantly she had gone too far.
Not because of anger.
Because of the way something closed behind his eyes.
Her chest tightened.
“Nico,” she started.
He stood.
The chair scraped back.
Coach Hart’s voice cut in. “Sit down, Reyes.”
Nico did not sit.
But he did not leave either.
For a moment, he looked at the door like it was the only honest thing in the room.
Then he looked back at Lena.
“I’ll show up,” he said. “I’ll sit there. I’ll let people take their pictures. But don’t talk to me like I’m a coward because I don’t want strangers deciding what my hands mean.”
The room went quiet.
Lena felt the words under her skin.
What my hands mean.
She had thought of touch as optics.
He thought of it as surrender.
Or exposure.
Or maybe just another thing people could steal from him and name incorrectly.
Her voice softened before she could stop it.
“Okay.”
Nico’s gaze held hers.
Suspicion first.
Then surprise.
Then something quieter.
“Okay?” he repeated.
“We’ll start with sitting close. No hand-holding unless we both agree in the moment.”
Talia opened her mouth.
Lena looked at her. “We need him to look comfortable, not kidnapped.”
Nico’s expression shifted again.
There.
Almost gratitude.
Not enough to be obvious.
Enough to be dangerous.
Coach Hart watched Lena for a long second. “You’re sure you can manage this?”
There were a hundred things inside that question.
Can you manage the campaign?
Can you manage him?
Can you manage yourself?
Lena smiled.
Not the fake one.
Not exactly.
“I can manage a coffee date, Dad.”
Nico’s eyes flicked to her smile.
Her father’s face did not relax.
“That’s what concerns me,” he said.
The meeting ended ten minutes later with too many warnings and not enough certainty.
Talia left first, already typing.
Coach Hart paused at the door and looked at Lena. “A word.”
Lena’s stomach tightened.
Nico reached for his racket bag.
“Stay,” Coach Hart said to him.
Nico froze.
Her father’s voice was calm. “This concerns both of you.”
Wonderful.
Lena folded her hands in front of her. “Yes?”
Coach Hart looked at Nico first. “You are under enough scrutiny. Do not make this harder by forgetting what this is.”
Nico’s jaw tightened. “I know what it is.”
“Good.” Then her father turned to Lena. “And you. You are helping the program. That is all.”
The words were not cruel.
They still found somewhere soft to land.
“That’s all,” Lena said.
Her father studied her face, maybe looking for the lie.
He would not find it.
Lena had been trained by the best.
Finally, he left.
The door shut.
Silence followed.
Nico picked up his coffee cup, now mostly empty. “Your dad always talk like he’s reading terms at a prison intake?”
Lena laughed before she could stop herself.
It slipped out bright and surprised and real.
Nico looked at her like the sound had done something inconvenient to his chest.
The laughter faded.
She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Only when he’s being warm.”
Another almost-smile.
This one stayed for a full second.
Then Lena’s phone buzzed.
She looked down.
A message from Talia.
Tomorrow 9:15 a.m. Coffee shop. Sit by the front window. Hand-holding recommended if natural.
Nico leaned just enough to read it over her shoulder.
The room immediately became too small again.
His arm brushed hers.
Barely.
Still enough.
“Absolutely not,” he said.
Lena looked up at him.
He was close.
Much too close for someone she had a no unnecessary touching rule with.
Her pulse betrayed her completely.
“Relax,” she said. “No one said it would be natural.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
Then back to her eyes.
“No,” he said quietly. “That’s what I’m worried about.”