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Two days after that dinner was Saturday, which meant Vince had a game.

I spent the last two days packing and Vince would drop by and help out a little. I was pretty much done packing up everything I needed, only a few things were left. When Vince came by yesterday, we sat and made a whole plan for today. I was his assistant these past two days. I started doing my job again except only from my apartment. I couldn't be seen with him in public until tonight, so I was his assistant over the phone.

It was even more stressful than being his assistant otherwise, surprisingly. But not being able to see if people were doing their job right before Vince arrived and also making sure Vince knew what to do and where to go was so difficult.

Tonight, I'll be at the game but not as his assistant, as his girlfriend. We'll start giving the press snippets of us together to get the rumors going. Everyone expected us to stay away from each other after the New York scandal. That's what it was, a scandal. And that's what we tried doing but clearly, it backfired, so now we're diving into this headfirst.

He brought a spare jersey of his to give to me and one of his signature black hats.

"What do I do with these?" I asked.

"Wear them to the game. Here's your ticket." He handed it to me. "Sit in the stands, all right?"

"All right," I mumbled, staring at the three items in my lap. Girlfriend mode - on.

Tonight's game was in Boston, luckily, and Vince said he would come pick me up by five-thirty. I was ready by then. I pulled on a pair of jeans with black ankle boots. The jersey was huge, as expected, so I put on a thin white full-sleeve cotton turtleneck and then his jersey on top of that. My hair was still in loose waves from last night, so I left it down and pulled on his hat, tightening it until it fit me. I looked decent enough for the press. I grabbed a pair of gold hoops and put them on before spraying on perfume and then grabbing my phone and keys, tucking them into my pocket just as the doorbell rang. I flicked the lights off and jogged out, opening the door.

He glanced at my clothes and then nodded. "You look—"

"Decent, I know," I mumbled, locking my door. "Let's go."

He blinked, his brows creasing before he shrugged it off and walked with me. As the elevator descended, the lights flickered again. "What is wrong with the power in your building?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied, "we've been getting a lot of power cuts. So the lights do that."

"Are you telling me we could be stuck here right now?"

The elevator dinged and opened. "But we didn't," I replied, glancing at him and walking out. We reached his car and I waited for him to give me the keys, except he didn't. "Are you driving?" I asked while he opened the passenger door for me.

"Yes. Get in the car," he nodded.

"Gladly," I scoffed lightly, sitting inside and pulling my belt on while he closed the door. He got in from his side and started driving us to the stadium. "The game is at our stadium?" I asked, glancing at the entrance.

"Yeah. James said if we host the game, we'll be more focused on by the press." As he entered the parking lot, I could see hundreds of cars that belonged to the audience. He drove around and to the back of the building where players and press would park their cars. He turned the car off once we were parked and turned to me. "Don't let them recognize you right away," he suggested, reaching into the backseat to grab his bag. "And inside, stay in the lounge room with the rest of us until we go to change, hmm?"

I nodded in understanding.

He climbed out while some reporters did too, taking out their equipment before stationing themselves at the entrance. They're not all allowed inside, so some of them have to be out here. Vince got the door for me, holding out a hand.

I climbed out and grabbed his hand, keeping my head down as he walked towards the entrance. I could hear the reporters talking and quickly setting up cameras before the blinding flashes started going off.

"Vince, could you tell us who you're with?"

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Is it someone we know?"

"She's wearing your jersey, are you in a relationship now?"

"Do you plan to make your relationship public?"

"How long have you been together?"

"Seeing you bring a girl to your game is a huge surprise, Vince!"

"Did you plan this surprise for your fans?"

"What do you have to say to the people criticizing you because of the New York scandal?"

I let out a soft sigh when we made it inside. I couldn't look back at the reporters but I wanted to. How can they do a job like that? Just stand there and throw questions and accusations at people while taking any picture you can, not caring if the people getting pictures taken of are in a vulnerable position to not.

I rolled my eyes as Vince kept a hold on my hand, leading me to the lounge room I was more than familiar with. We walked in and the rest of the players were already here, just talking and strategizing for the game. I slowed down a little, realizing the other guys might not know. "Are you lying to them too?" I whispered, looking up at him.

"No," he mumbled, turning to me. "They know."

I nodded, a little relieved. He dropped my hand and I took the hat off, running a hand through my hair.

"Demi!" Christian exclaimed, spotting me immediately. The rest went off like dominoes.

"Demi!" everybody exclaimed in sync.

"Hi," I laughed, making my way over with Vince.

He set his bag down and sat on the loveseat while Christian stood up, giving me a quick hug. All of the others followed. "Thank god you're back," Logan sighed.

"He's been a pain in the ass since you left," Lucas scoffed, glaring at Vince.

"What did he do?" I chuckled.

"What didn't he do?" Michael asked.

"He skipped practice, came in late, skipped his workouts, didn't bring his hockey stick three out of five times," Cody went on.

"Basically, the man fell apart," Christian concluded.

I glanced at Vince. He ignored everybody and opened a bottle of Gatorade, drinking a few sips.

"Well, she's here now," Michael shrugged, "he'll be fine."

"Demi!" I looked over, all the assistants waving me over.

I walked over, feeling a little embarrassed as it dawned on me that everybody here knows I slept with Vince. It's even worse because these people really know me and Vince, both. We all killed time here until the players went to get ready.

"Are you coming with us?" Amelia asked.

"No, I'm sitting in the stands," I replied.

"Makes sense," she nodded. "We'll see you later then." They all went to sit with the team staff and I slipped out, sitting at the front of the bleachers.

I pulled the hat back on and kept my head down while the stadium filled and then overfilled with fans from both teams. I was wearing his jersey so people were already talking and pointing. I hate this. God, I really hate this. I hate having so many eyes on me. I glanced over as the team came out one by one.

He had his helmet tucked under his arm while he scanned the room, his eyes landing on me. He nodded, calling me over.

I quickly walked over. "What?"

He leaned down, surprising me. "Push my hair back."

I sighed, combing it back with my fingers. "Who did this for you when I was gone?"

"No one," he mumbled, staring at me. I could hear cameras clicking, snapping the players as they stepped on the ice. His eyes traveled across my face, settling on my lips. He leaned in, pecking my lips once. The sound of camera shutters increased tenfold. He pulled back and pulled his helmet on. "Knock," he ordered.

I chuckled, knocking three times. "Good luck."

He smirked and winked at me once before stepping on the ice.

I went back, taking the same seat. Nobody stole it from me, surprisingly enough. I could hear the people behind me. It was a group of boys, maybe in high school, maybe in college.

"Who is that?" one of them whispered while the audience waited for the team to start.

"She's probably just a fan, no? That's what I thought."

"No, look at the jersey. It's his."

"So?"

"It's actually his, dipshit!" he hissed.

"What if it's his girlfriend?" someone else asked.

"Vince Hunter doesn't have a girlfriend," someone scoffed.

"Not publicly," another one corrected.

I bit back a laugh, listening in, amused.

Somebody gasped loudly, "What if it's Demi Vaughn?"

My eyes widened and my body went stiff. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me."

Before I could turn around, a loud whistle blew and everyone focused on the game. I let out a small breath of relief and watched the game intently. I hated watching it from here. In comparison to where I could stand next to coach Peters, this sucks. I'm going deaf.

I bit my nail while the puck flew from one player to another. Someone was shoved, someone was pushed into the wall. Someone cursed, someone made a penalty. Someone made a penalty against Vince.

"That's a penalty!" The guys behind me shot up, screaming in sync.

I didn't want to scream anything, because generally when one part of the crowd is exceptionally loud, the camera usually spans to them and shows them on the big screen. They called the first half-time and players skated out.

Vince stopped, catching his breath and spotting me again. He called over Amelia and said something to her before sitting down.

She walked over quickly and whispered to me. "He's calling you."

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