Misconducts & Temptation (The Crestwood Elite Hockey Academy #10)

13. Elodie

Chapter 13

Elodie

I couldn't stop thinking about my encounter with Keaton in the locker room. It was so unexpected, so surreal. There I was, just trying to clean up and get through my day when he came in. The star defender on the hockey team. Everyone knew him, but no one really knew him, if that made any sense.

But he recognized me.

I had tried so hard to keep myself small, to ensure I didn't draw any unwanted attention to myself that night.

But he…

He saw me.

Strange.

The thought replayed in my mind as I walked through the hallway. It wasn’t like I did anything to stand out. I kept my head down, focused on my studies and my work, blending into the background as much as possible. Nobody really paid attention to me here, and that was fine. I wanted it that way.

But the masquerade changed everything.

And now he wanted to meet me at River Styx to talk about marriage. Marriage! The whole thing felt like some strange dream, the kind you wake up from and laugh about because it’s too absurd to be real. But this wasn’t a dream.

And even if I said no, life wouldn't—couldn't—be the same. It just… it couldn't.

I paused by one of the tall windows overlooking the courtyard, where students lounged on the manicured grass. Crestwood felt like a different world sometimes—a world where people like me didn’t belong. And yet, Keaton had pulled me into his orbit with that one look and those few words.

There was something undeniably exciting about it all. As much as I tried to focus on the practicalities, the thought of meeting Keaton intrigued me more than I wanted to admit. He was an enigma wrapped in layers of confidence and control, but there had been a flicker of something else in his eyes when he looked at me.

I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion that swirled in my mind. What did Keaton see in me? Why would someone like him—someone with so much power and presence—want anything to do with a scholarship student who spent her days scrubbing locker room floors?

Not that I felt sorry for myself. There was great pride in hard work. But…

This was marriage, and he didn't know me. I wanted to understand his thought process.

I didn't have answers yet, but I knew one thing: I wanted to know more, despite all the reasons why this shouldn’t matter to me, despite the fact that I should be focusing on more immediate concerns. I couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Keaton could change everything.

I had no idea what he truly wanted or what this would lead to, but for now, it was enough to make me consider saying yes.

I sighed and stepped back into the women's locker room to change into my Crestwood uniform. Class was starting soon, and I couldn’t afford to be late. Not again. Not with everything else hanging in the balance.

The locker room was quiet, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights. I slipped out of my work clothes and pulled on the crisp white shirt and pleated skirt that marked me as a student here. As I buttoned up my shirt in the bathroom stall, I heard voices drift in.

"…heard Lola Perez is seeing Marco Tribiani," a voice said, echoing slightly against the tiled walls.

"Wait, didn't she just have, like, an engagement party this weekend?" another girl responded.

My fingers paused over the last button. Lola Perez. The name sent a chill down my spine. Keaton’s fiancée—or rather, his father’s chosen fiancée for him.

"You think she cares?" the first voice continued with a hint of derision. "Everyone knows she gets around, especially with all the rich guys."

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like you see her fucking a poor guy."

"Although," the first voice said thoughtfully, "I do remember hearing about her and Professor Hathaway from Spanish? She was failing and somehow she got a B in the class."

"Does she have no shame?"

The first one scoffed. "Come on. But honestly? Keaton's a player too. They deserve each other. It's not like they actually love each other, anyway."

Their laughter echoed briefly before fading as they left.

I smoothed down my skirt, my mind whirling with what I had overheard. Lola and Keaton’s engagement was already marred by rumors and scandals, it seemed. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be caught in the middle of it all.

How did I even respond to something like that? The complexity of their world felt suffocating at times—where relationships were strategic moves rather than genuine connections.

But there was no time to dwell on it now. I grabbed my bag and headed out of the locker room, trying to push thoughts of Keaton and Lola to the back of my mind as I made my way to class.

The campus felt different in the summer, almost serene. The usual hustle and bustle of students rushing to and from classes had calmed, leaving a sense of tranquility. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of trees lining the pathways, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Flowers in full bloom added splashes of color to the green landscape, and the air was warm with a hint of a gentle breeze. I took it all in as I walked, appreciating the rare quiet moments that Crestwood Academy offered during this season.

I approached the business building, its imposing structure softened by ivy crawling up the brick walls. The halls inside were quieter too, echoing softly with the occasional footsteps or murmured conversations. I made my way to my class, a room on the second floor that overlooked a small courtyard filled with neatly trimmed hedges and stone benches.

The room itself was spacious, with rows of desks arranged in a semi-circle around a large wooden lectern at the front. A whiteboard spanned one wall, already covered in diagrams and notes from previous lessons.

I found my usual seat near the window and sat down, placing my bag on the floor beside me. From this vantage point, I could see out into the courtyard where a few students sat studying or chatting quietly. It was a peaceful view that contrasted with the intensity of our business lectures.

I pulled out my notebook and flipped to a clean page, ready to take notes for today's lesson. The cover of my notebook was worn from use, but it held all my carefully organized thoughts and summaries from previous classes. Each page was filled with neat handwriting and underlined key points—a testament to how seriously I took my studies.

As I prepared for class to begin, I glanced around at my classmates. Some were already engaged in quiet discussions about upcoming assignments or projects, while others were scrolling through their phones or reviewing their own notes. The atmosphere was calm but focused; everyone here knew how important these classes were for our future careers.

With a deep breath, I turned my attention back to my notebook, ready to absorb whatever knowledge today’s lecture would bring.

The lecture began, and I quickly found myself immersed in the world of microeconomics. Professor Lewis had a way of making even the driest topics come alive, and today was no exception. He explained the intricacies of market structures with such clarity that I could almost see the invisible hand of the market moving pieces on a chessboard. I took meticulous notes, my pen gliding across the paper as I absorbed every detail.

I had to focus. Regardless of what happened with Keaton or my stepmother's debt, this knowledge was my lifeline. Marriage might save her from financial ruin, but it wouldn't save me. I had to secure my own future, and education was my way out. Every formula, every concept learned here brought me one step closer to independence.

Class ended before I knew it. The students around me began packing up their things, their conversations a low hum in the background. I took my time gathering my belongings, not eager to rush back to reality just yet. My mind drifted back to Keaton and our brief encounter in the locker room.

I slid my notebook into my bag and stood up, hesitating for a moment before slinging it over my shoulder. As I made my way out of the classroom, I couldn't shake the feeling that the decision could change everything.

Would meeting Keaton lead to a solution or just complicate things further? It was impossible to know. But one thing was certain: staying stagnant wouldn't get me anywhere. If I wanted to escape my current life, I needed to take risks.

I stepped into the hallway. My feet moved on autopilot as I headed toward the exit, my mind still wrestling with what to do next.

River Styx... The name itself felt like an invitation into a different world—one where maybe, just maybe, I could find a way out of this mess.

But first, I'd have to muster up the courage to go.

As I stepped outside, the warm breeze hit my face, snapping me back to the present. The question gnawed at me—would Keaton be a better husband than William? I didn’t know Keaton at all. What if he was just as cruel, or worse? What if he had expectations I couldn't meet?

I chewed my lip, my thoughts swirling like leaves in a storm. The idea of marrying William made my skin crawl. He had already made it clear that he expected me to give up my education, and his insinuations about what else he wanted from me were enough to make me sick. The very thought of being bound to him felt like a death sentence.

At least Keaton was giving me an option. We were meeting to discuss the terms of our arrangement, and I would have a say in this marriage, unlike with William. That tiny sliver of control was something I desperately clung to.

I headed toward River Styx, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Nervousness gnawed at me, but determination fueled my steps. This was my chance to gather more information, to see if Keaton could offer something better than the hell I faced with William.

The streets were quieter now as evening approached, casting long shadows that stretched across the pavement. The entrance to River Styx loomed ahead.

With a deep breath, I stepped inside.

I pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling overhead to announce my arrival. The place was moderately busy but not overcrowded, with clusters of students occupying tables and booths. My eyes scanned the room for Keaton, but there was no sign of him. Maybe he had changed his mind or got caught up in something else.

Trying not to dwell on it, I joined the line at the counter. The barista, a friendly-faced girl with vibrant pink hair, smiled as she took orders from the students ahead of me. I glanced at the chalkboard menu above her head, filled with various coffee and tea options in colorful chalk. But my mind was set—I needed something refreshing.

As I inched closer to the counter, my gaze kept darting to the door, half-expecting Keaton to walk in any moment. The minutes felt like hours as I shuffled forward with the line.

Finally, it was my turn. "Hi," I said to the barista, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt. "Can I get a strawberry lemonade?"

"Sure thing," she replied, her fingers flying over the register keys. "Anything else?"

I shook my head and handed her my student ID for payment. "Just that."

She swiped my card and handed it back with a receipt. "Your drink will be ready in just a minute."

I moved to the side, waiting by the pickup counter. I looked at the receipt.

$3.48.

More than I wanted to spend, but I had some cash I'd been saving, and honestly, the last time I bought a drink from here was in December and they were doing holiday-themed hot chocolate.

Still.

I couldn't ignore a slight hint of guilt at the indulgence.

If Keaton didn't show up by the time I got my drink, I'd leave it at that. No use worrying over someone who didn't care enough to keep an appointment he created in the first place.

My thoughts drifted back to our brief encounter in the locker room and how different he had seemed from his public persona. Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake—a momentary lapse of judgment on his part.

"Strawberry lemonade for Elodie," called out the barista.

I stepped forward and took the cold drink from her hand, offering a quick thank you before turning away from the counter. As I walked toward an empty table by the window, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment mixed with relief.

Maybe it was better this way—simpler, less complicated.

I took a tentative sip of the strawberry lemonade. The tangy sweetness hit my tongue first, followed by a refreshing burst of cold that seemed to clear away the day's fatigue. It was like tasting summer in a glass, and for a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it. The chill traveled down my throat, leaving behind a pleasant, almost nostalgic taste that reminded me of simpler times.

Just as I was about to leave, the door chimed again. My heart did a little flip as I saw Keaton step in. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room until they landed on me. A smirk curled his lips.

"Starting without me, babes?" he asked, his voice carrying that mix of arrogance and charm I remembered from the locker room.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the term babes . He made his way over to my table with an air of casual confidence that seemed to command the space around him.

"I hope you weren't leaving," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down without waiting for an invitation. "Not when the party's just begun."

I took another sip of my lemonade, buying myself a moment to collect my thoughts. The way he effortlessly took control of the situation both intrigued and annoyed me.

"I wasn't sure if you'd show up," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

I ignored the way his fingers found my wrist again, how he tugged me in the direction of the other seat.

I sat, shooting him a frown.

He ignored it.

"Well, here I am," he said, leaning back in his chair. "And I've got some things we need to discuss."