Chapter 4
GAbrIEL
I’M SCROLLING THROUGH Scarlett’s social media for I don’t know what time today, and there’s barely anything on there. Her profile is practically empty. She has a few photos from what looks like her hometown, some nature shots, and a few selfies.
It’s frustrating because I’m used to girls who post everything. Their lives are open books, easy to read and even easier to manipulate. But Scarlett is different, and that makes her harder to figure out.
I click on one of the nature photos. It’s actually good and professional-looking in a way that suggests she knows what she’s doing. She has an eye for this, apparently.
There’s another photo from what looks like a high school event. She’s with a group of people, all of them dressed up, and there’s a trophy in her hands. I zoom in and read the banner in the background. Photography competition. So she’s not just dabbling in this but she’s actually won something.
Interesting.
I scroll back to the top of her feed and stare at her profile picture. It’s a close-up of her face, with natural lighting and no filters. She looks less guarded and more like the kind of girl who’d be easy to get close to.
But she wasn’t easy at the party. She was polite and distant, and every time I tried to steer the conversation somewhere interesting, she deflected. It was maddening.
Most girls would’ve been all over me by now. They would’ve touched my arm and given me their number without me even asking. But Scarlett didn’t do any of that. She didn’t even looked impressed when I told her I was the captain of the hockey team.
That’s not normal. Either she’s playing some kind of game, or she genuinely doesn’t care who I am.
I’m betting on the first one.
Girls always play games. They pretend they’re not interested because they think it makes them more appealing, and if they act hard to get, I’ll chase them harder.
And they’re right, because I will.
I like winning, and Scarlett is like a challenge I can’t walk away from.
I’m about to close the app when a new post pops up. It’s a photo of the coffee shop, but the caption catches my eye.
I stare at the screen and a grin spreads across my face.
She wants to be the team’s photographer?
Awesome.
That means she’ll be around me all the time, and I won’t have to chase her or come up with random run-ins. She’ll just be there, and I’ll have constant access. All I have to do is get her the job.
And if things go the way I want them to, I can use this position against her later. If I make sure she knows that I’m the reason she got the job and that I can get her fired just as easily if she doesn’t cooperate, it’s the perfect leverage.
I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, already running through the plan in my head. The athletics department handles all the hiring for the support staff, and Arnold is the one who makes those decisions. He’s the dad of one of my teammates, and more importantly, he owes me.
Last season, his kid was riding the bench most games because he wasn’t good enough to get real ice time.
But I talked to Coach and made some suggestions about rotating players more, and suddenly Arnold’s kid was getting more minutes and he was grateful.
Really grateful, which means he’ll do me a favor if I ask.
And I’m going to do it.
I pull up my contacts and scroll until I find his number. My thumb hovers over it for a second because I need to make sure I say things right. I can’t sound too eager or too pushy. I need to sound casual, as if I’m just trying to help out.
“Gabriel. What can I do for you?” he says when he picks up.
“Hey, I heard you’re looking for a team photographer.”
“Yeah, posted it this morning. You know someone?”
“I do, actually. She just transferred here, she’s really talented, and she won some competition back in high school. I think she’d be perfect for the position. Her name’s Scarlett.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Scarlett? Yeah, I think I saw her application come through earlier today. Are you vouching for her?”
“Absolutely. She knows what she’s doing, and having someone who’s actually invested in the team would be great. Plus, it’ll be good to have some fresh perspectives.”
“All right. I’ll make sure her application gets priority. I can’t promise anything, but if she’s as good as you say, she’ll probably get the job.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
Well, that was easy, but that’s how things work when you’re me. People listen because they know I deliver results, and they know keeping me happy means keeping the team happy.
Scarlett will get the job because I want her to have it, and she’ll never know that I’m the reason unless I decide to her. Until then, she’ll think it’s her talent or her luck.
I lean back against my headboard and think about how this is going to play out.
She’ll be at every practice, watching me on the ice and seeing me in my element.
She’ll realize how good I am, how everyone respects me, and how I control the game.
And eventually, she’ll stop pretending she’s not interested.
They always do.
The thing about being the captain is that people see you differently. They notice the leadership, the skill, and the way you carry yourself on and off the ice. And girls love someone who’s in control and who knows what he wants and goes after it.
Scarlett will see it too, and she’ll start to wonder what it would be like to be with someone as popular as me.
And by the time she realizes what’s happening, she’ll already be hooked.
I pick up my phone again and scroll back through her photos. There’s one of her smiling, and it looks totally genuine.
That’s the version I want to see. The real one that she’s hiding behind all that sweetness and politeness.
I wonder what it’ll take to break her and how long it’ll be before she drops the act and admits what she really wants.
Because nobody transfers to a new school and shows up at a party unless they’re looking for attention. She just doesn’t want to admit it yet.
But she will.
I zoom in on the photo, studying her face. There’s something about her eyes that I can’t quite figure out. They’re bright and happy in the picture, but there’s something in them that doesn’t quite match the smile.
Maybe she’s not as innocent as she seems, or there’s more going on under the surface.
That would make everything even more interesting.
I open my messages. Taj texted me earlier about grabbing food, but I ignored it because I was too focused on Scarlett. Now I’m starting to feel hungry, and I could use the distraction.
I’m about to respond when my phone buzzes in my hand. Unknown number.
Meet at 7.
My stomach does a nervous flip as I check the time.
It’s 6:53.
Fuck!
I jump off the bed.
I can’t be late. I can never be late for this.
I shove my phone into my pocket and bolt out of my room. My heart is thudding in my chest, not from exertion but from the panic creeping in.
Seven o’clock means seven o’clock. Not 7:01. Not 7:02. Exactly seven.
I burst through the main doors of the dorm and sprint across the campus. The quickest route is cutting through the quad and then down past the library. It’s off campus, but not too far. If I run the whole way, I can make it.
My feet pound against the pavement as I zigzag between students. Someone calls my name, but I don’t stop.
I push harder, and my lungs start to burn. The edge of the campus is just ahead, and then it’s two more blocks.
I’m almost there, just a little farther.
My legs are screaming, but I don’t slow down. I sprint the last block, gasping for air. My shirt is soaked with sweat, and my chest is heaving.
I force myself to keep moving, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through me. My heart is still racing, and every muscle in my body is tense.
I can make it.
I have to.