Off the Boards (Camrose U #2)

1. Killian

Killian

“ K illian Schultz.”

As soon as I hear that voice, I snap my head up so alarmingly fast I almost get whiplash and drop my phone. Beside me, Vega, my teammate, gives me an odd look.

Sue me. Maddox Roussel, the teaching assistant, is literally the only reason I’m even able to drag myself to this class. He’s the most gorgeous human being I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’m totally not exaggerating when I say we’re soulmates. He just doesn’t know it… yet.

I’m kidding. He doesn’t even know I exist and probably never will.

To him, I’m simply another random face in this lecture hall of about a hundred college students. I’m even seated in the very back, only because it’s a lot easier to be on my phone the further away I am from the front.

“You should probably get your exam,” Vega mutters to me. He’s already got his own paper in his hand.

Oh. Right. Maddox is calling us by our names and returning our exams to us. I happily make my way to the front of the lecture hall. He hands me my exam, face down on the desk, and continues to call the next student .

I take a few seconds to stare at his pretty face, taking advantage of how he’s fully focused on his tasks. When I head back to my seat, Vega’s shoulders are shaking and he has a hand over his mouth.

“Schultz,” he says between muffled laughter. “You need to stop ogling Maddox like that.”

Shrugging, I plop down on my seat. Vega leans close as I flip over my first statistics exam, already dreading what I’m about to see.

I got a D.

Fabulous.

Maddox, who’s handed out all the exams, scans his eyes over the lecture hall. “Please let me know if you have any questions.”

I almost raise my hand and ask for his number.

“Thank you, Maddox,” Professor Wheeler says. He goes up to the front, ready to start the lecture. He gets right to it, flashing a problem on the board and talking about what we’re going through for the day. To nobody’s surprise, I can’t focus on a thing he’s saying.

Nope, my eyes are glued to his teaching assistant the entire time.

I can’t help but be enamored by Maddox’s full lips and doe eyes.

His black glasses accentuate his thick lashes, and I like how his brown hair frames his pretty face.

Oh, and he has the cutest damn freckles.

They’re faint, but they’re there. I only found out about them when I got close enough—he was at Stella Café, reading a book by the coffee bar, and I passed him on my way to order.

My heart actually did a little dance when I noticed the tiny speckles across the bridge of his nose and on his cheeks.

But it’s not only his looks that make me weirdly infatuated with him. He may be a head shorter than I am, and much skinnier, but there’s nothing small about his presence—he moves with a certain grace and speaks with a self-confidence that I admire.

Okay, I might just be a bit too into a man I’ve never actually spoken to.

Normally, walking up to someone and introducing myself wouldn’t be an issue, except that Maddox is tight with my teammate, Caleb Jennings—and Caleb has made it abundantly clear that he wants me to stay away .

Why? Who knows. But I’m not about to get on Caleb’s bad side.

Caleb’s cool—he’s great on the ice, a good friend, and he’s out and proud like me. He’s also unhinged as fuck, and while the chances of Caleb jumping me are low, they’re never zero.

So I’m okay with admiring Maddox from afar.

For now, at least.

“Mr. Schultz,” Professor Wheeler’s voice suddenly calls. I jolt, sitting up straight. “Any idea on the next step to this problem?”

Shit. I wasn’t listening at all.

I give him a wide-eyed look. “Uh… no, sir, sorry.”

Relief washes over me when Professor Wheeler gives me a curt nod, then randomly calls on someone else. The tall guy he asks next doesn’t know the answer either, and Professor Wheeler doesn’t call him out either. I bow my head, grimacing, and glance down at my exam again.

The bright red D stares back at me.

God. Why do I even need to learn about all this? I’m taking up Sports Management—is statistics supposed to be important? Honestly, I wouldn’t know.

Nothing Professor Wheeler says registers in my brain. He drones on and on, pointing at numbers and whatnot, and I massage my temples.

A pen pokes my wrist, and I look over at Vega. Frowning, he asks, “You good?”

Vega, like me, had also pushed this class back to the last minute. Fortunately for him, though, he’s not as confused as I am.

“No,” I say, too honestly. “I don’t understand shit.”

Vega gives me a look. “Well, figure it out, because we need to have you in our games. Our D-line sucks without you. Would probably help if you didn’t keep staring at Maddox.”

“True, but he makes staying awake so much easier.”

He snorts loudly, and a few heads turn our way. Even the professor pauses in his lecture to glare at us, and Vega gets flustered and ducks his head.

And when my gaze flickers over to Maddox, he’s got his eyes on me. Our stares collide before Professor Wheeler resumes his lesson, and Maddox looks away as if he didn’t make my world tilt with that split second of attention.

God. He’s downright gorgeous. How is it that every time I get a good look at him it’s as if he’s become more beautiful?

That face should be illegal. No one else stands a chance.

It’s the face of someone who could launch five hundred ships.

Or was it a thousand? I would have paid closer attention in Greek Literature if the teaching assistant had been half as attractive as Maddox, but since he wasn’t, I’m unsure how many ships one pretty face can launch.

Safe to say, however, that Maddox could get me to sail all the fleets in the world for him.

In the end, though, his prettiness won’t save me from this class.

And Vega’s right—if I don’t do well, according to school policy, I won’t be able to play. They only begin looking at our grades after midterms, which is a month away, but I’m already dreading it.

“I think I need to ask Professor Wheeler for extra credit,” I mumble to Vega. “I’ll talk to him after class.”

“You sure? You still have a lot of time to catch up.”

“I’m sure.”

It’s pathetic that I’m this stressed so early in the term, but I’m on my last year of hockey and I can’t risk it. There’s no way. As much as I hate having to do this, I simply don’t have any other choice.

As soon as the class is dismissed, chatter fills the hall and students disperse.

Professor Wheeler takes Maddox’s seat by the table and puts all his attention on his laptop, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Maddox takes his leave along with the rest. I’m glad he’s not here or I wouldn’t be able to do this.

Vega gives me one last sympathetic look before heading out as well, and I muster up my courage and walk up to my professor. Plastering on the widest grin I can manage, I say, “Good morning, Professor! Do you have a minute?”

He peers at me over the top of his glasses. “Yes?”

I nod. “Sir, I… uh. I have a request.”

“Go on...?”

“I’m, um… I was hoping I could do something for some extra points?

I failed the first quiz, and I’m worried it’s going to affect my scholarship.

We’re required to maintain a GPA and they check on our midterm grades to make sure we’re on track, and at this rate, I might not play.

Is there a project I could do? Or would it be possible to retake the test?

” Not sure why I had to include that last option since retaking it wouldn’t do anything for me, but it felt right to say it.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Aren’t you jumping the gun?

We’re only on our third week, Mr. Schultz.

” He folds his fingers together and studies me, his full focus on me now.

He reminds me of Dad, which only makes me more nervous—there are wisps of gray in his well-kept hair, and his attire is impeccably ironed.

“How can you be sure your midterm grade’s going to be that bad? ”

Oh, god. My throat turns tight. “I don’t understand a thing in class, sir.”

He lets out a clipped laugh. “Just what a professor wants to hear—that he’s failing to be understood by a student.”

“That’s not—”

“You don’t have any confidence in your ability to learn, do you?” he asks, and my throat constricts even more. “You’re giving up without even trying, Mr. Schultz. Don’t you think you should at least give it a shot first? If you get a good class standing by midterms, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

When I struggle to come up with an answer, his frown deepens.

“I apologize if you somehow got the wrong impression of me.” He gives me a stern smile that sends ice down my spine. “I’m not one of those professors who will give you some leeway only because you’re on the hockey team. That isn’t my style.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to offend, and I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs a shoulder. “If you’re sure this early on that you’re going to have a difficult time, look into finding a tutor.”

“I will.” I can’t tell him I’ve tried working with tutors before. It’s never worked out because of my lack of focus and interest.

How I made it to my senior year’s a miracle, though it’s also because a lot of the professors give athletes some slack—which he already said he won’t do—and because I planned out my courses so that I didn’t have too many difficult classes each semester.

Professor Wheeler leans back in his chair and gives me a long, pointed look. “Listen… Maddox Roussel, my TA, is one of the best tutors on campus.”

Hearing Maddox’s name makes me grin. Fortunately, Professor Wheeler looks away to write something onto a piece of paper, and I rearrange my face before he can see it. When I peer closer, I realize he’s writing Maddox’s number. Fuck, yeah.

He hands me the note, and I hold it like the priceless thing that it is. “Ask him if he has any tutoring spots left.”

Seriously? Seriously? I’ll scream for joy if Maddox agrees to tutor me, even if I’d surely still understand nothing. And if it was a professor who ordered —fine, suggested—that I talk to Maddox, then even Caleb can’t get angry at me for it.

Maybe.

“I’ll ask him,” I tell my professor, trying my best to school the excitement in my voice. From the odd look he gives me, I don’t think I do it very well.

As soon as I step outside, I send Maddox a text.

Me: Hi! This is Killian Schultz from the statistics class you’re a TA for. Professor Wheeler said you tutor?

My phone beeps a few minutes later, and I’m so ecstatic to see his response that I halt in the middle of the crowded hallway. A guy behind me hits my back and grunts, and I give him an apologetic smile.

What I read makes my heart drop to my ass, though.

Maddox: Sorry. Fully booked this semester.

Well, shit.

So much for that.