10. Niall
CHAPTER 10
NIALL
Barely made it on time. That wasn’t like me. I was a guy who stuck to a schedule, who showed up when I was supposed to—unless I had a damn good reason not to. And last night? I did. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
I’d stayed at the rink long after practice, skating until my legs burned, until exhaustion weighed me down enough that I thought I’d sleep the second I got home. But the moment I stepped inside the apartment, I saw the sliver of light under Eli’s door. He was still up. For a split second, I considered knocking, maybe saying something. But what the hell would I even say? No point in giving him false hope of establishing a friendship. Instead, I went to bed, only to spend the next few hours staring at the ceiling, wide awake.
Now, dragging myself into class, I scanned the room automatically for my usual seat. Still empty. But so was the one next to it. My eyes landed on Eli sitting beside Asher near the middle of the classroom. I hadn’t even realized Asher was in this class. They were both looking at me, but Eli glanced away almost immediately after our gazes met. Asher leaned toward him, said something, and Eli shrugged, looking unbothered.
I didn’t know what the tightness in my chest meant. Indigestion? Not likely. Was I pissed off? I didn’t think so. Jealous? No fucking way.
I gritted my teeth and dropped into an empty chair a few rows ahead of them, setting my notebook on the desk with a little too much force. Whatever. It wasn’t like I cared who Eli sat with.
Professor Williams walked in, greeting the class even while her heels clicked against the floor. She set her bag down on the desk before jumping into her lecture, but I barely processed her words at first. My exhaustion was making it hard to focus. When Eli spoke up, answering one of the professor’s questions with easy confidence, it snapped me back in.
“Good point, Mr. Foster,” the professor said. “Anyone else?”
A couple of other students raised their hands and a tall redhead, Sophia, with whom I’d gone on a couple of dates when we were in our freshman year… before my parents’ accident when life was still popsicles and cotton candies.
“Yes, Miss Smith?”
“It’s also about building relationships with the audience, right?” my former date answered. “Making them feel invested?”
“Exactly,” the professor said. “Marketing isn’t only about selling—it’s about connection.”
I kept my head down, hoping she’d overlook me. She was one of those professors who actually expected participation, and sure enough, the professor directed her attention to me.
“Mr. Caldwell,” she called out, tapping her marker against the whiteboard. “What’s your take on the role of branding in consumer decision-making?”
I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to focus. “Branding builds familiarity. If a customer recognizes a brand and associates it with quality, they’re more likely to choose it over something unfamiliar.”
“Good,” she said with a nod. “But?”
I clenched my jaw. “But… branding alone won’t keep customers loyal. The product has to deliver.”
“Exactly.” She smiled while I resisted the urge to sink lower in my seat.
Then she made an announcement.
“For your first assignment this semester, you’ll be working in groups of three. Your goal is to gain hands-on experience by helping promote an existing campus event.”
Murmurs spread through the class as she started calling out names, grouping students together. My fingers drummed against my desk while I waited.
“Asher Brooks, Niall Caldwell, and Eli Foster.”
Of course.
A sharp exhale left me as I glanced over my shoulder. Asher grinned, nudging Eli, who didn’t look quite as thrilled. I wasn’t sure if that should make me feel better or worse.
Professor Williams gave us the rest of the class to start planning, and after a brief moment of hesitation, I grabbed my notebook and trudged over to where my roommate and his… friend?... were sitting.
Asher flashed a knowing smile as I dropped into the chair across from them. “Look who decided to join us,” he said.
Eli didn’t say anything, just glanced at me before looking down at his notebook.
I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Tossing out ideas should’ve been easy, but our group had the attention span of a hyperactive puppy. Well, Asher did. Eli kept throwing out photography-related suggestions—campus photo contest, documentary project, a digital showcase—but nothing fit the assignment guidelines.
He also kept his eyes anywhere but on me. Which I deserved. Still, I hated it. Eli was the kind of guy who smiled at everyone, who made conversation seem effortless, and now, because of me, he was treating me like I didn’t exist. The worst part? He seemed to be getting along just fine with everyone else. That thought did something weird to my head, but I shoved it aside before it could take shape. I wouldn’t let it matter.
“I got it!” Asher snapped his fingers. “Pop-up drag show. On the quad. Huge event. We get student groups involved, maybe even a guest performer.”
Eli let out a sharp laugh, then side-eyed Professor Williams, who had paused mid-sip of her coffee. “Uh, I love it, but I feel like that might be… ambitious.”
Asher grinned. “Go big or go home.”
“We’d be going home when Professor Williams kicked us out of class,” Eli shot back.
A snort escaped before I could stop it. Eli glanced at me, startled, like he forgot I could make normal human sounds. His expression smoothed out fast, though, and he went back to ignoring me.
Coach’s words from yesterday’s practice surfaced in my head. The team was running a youth hockey clinic in two weeks. It was already set up. It had structure, an audience, and actual marketing potential.
It was perfect for this assignment.
And I really, really didn’t want to suggest it.
The last thing I needed was Eli around hockey. I didn’t need my team knowing I was repeating a class. I didn’t want this to become some weird bonding experience.
But the silence stretched too long, and before I could stop myself, I muttered, “There’s the youth hockey clinic.”
Asher perked up instantly. “Wait, that could actually be good.” He sat up straighter, excitement flickering in his eyes. “A real event, already happening—low effort, high reward. I like it.”
I barely resisted rolling my eyes. This was not a low-effort situation for me.
Eli, on the other hand, looked skeptical. “What exactly is a youth hockey clinic?”
I sighed. “It’s a thing where kids come to the rink, we run them through drills, teach them some skills, try not to lose any of them in the process. It’ll be the weekend after next, mostly for PR, so we have to act like we actually enjoy it.”
Eli arched an eyebrow. “Sounds charming.”
“It’s fine,” I muttered. “Unless you hate kids. Or hockey. Or fun.”
Eli made a thoughtful noise. “Two out of three isn’t bad.”
Asher snorted. “I used to love stuff like that when I played. Maybe I can finally put my old gear to use.”
There was something in his tone—light, but not quite casual—that made Eli glance at him.
I ran a hand through my hair. “So, yeah. We promote the event, put together a campaign, show what goes into it, maybe even get some testimonials from parents or whatever.”
Eli was still fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t really?—”
His gaze flickered to me. I braced for whatever excuse he was about to make, but then something shifted in his expression, like he could see how much I regretted speaking in the first place. His lips twitched, and then?—
“Fine,” he said. “But don’t expect me to touch a hockey stick.”
Asher grinned. “Deal.”
I groaned internally. This was going to be a disaster.