Chapter 14
SCARLETT
I SCROLL THROUGH ANOTHER page of search results, squinting at my laptop screen in the dark corner of the library.
Gabriel’s social media profiles are polished.
Team photos, game highlights, and a few snapshots with teammates at bars or parties.
Nothing too personal. No tagged family members.
No childhood throwbacks. No casual mentions of siblings or parents.
It’s like his life began the day he stepped onto this campus.
I lean back in my chair and chew on the inside of my cheek. Everyone leaves traces online, especially people our age. But Gabriel? He’s a ghost outside of hockey.
Footsteps approach from behind, and I tense, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
“Looking for something?”
I slam the laptop shut and look up. Gabriel’s a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets, an infuriating half-smile on his face. He’s wearing a gray long-sleeve shirt and dark jeans.
“Just studying,” I say.
He glances at the closed laptop, then back at me. “Right.”
My pulse speeds up, but I hold his gaze. “Did you need something?”
Something like hesitation flickers across his face, and then it’s gone.
“Actually, yeah. I need someone to take some photos for me. Sponsor stuff. Coach said I should reach out to some companies and put together a portfolio.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “You do the team shots, and I know you’re good.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I don’t think Coach is even talking to him much these days, so Gabriel is up to something again. But what?
“So?” he asks. “What do you think?”
Getting closer to him is the whole point, but it feels a little too easy and too convenient. Still, it’s an opportunity that I’m not going to let go to waste.
“Okay,” I say. “When?”
“Now, if you’re free. There’s a spot on the east side of campus. Grass, trees, decent light...”
I glance at my laptop, then back at him. “Fine.”
He nods and steps back. “Meet you there in fifteen minutes?”
“Sure.”
I wait until he’s gone before I shove my laptop into my bag. My heart’s beating faster than it should, and I don’t know why. This is exactly what I wanted. A way in. A reason to be around him without raising suspicion.
So why does it feel like I’m the one being played?
THE PATCH OF GRASS he mentioned is surrounded by trees, away from the main pathways. It’s quiet, and Gabriel’s already waiting for me when I arrive. He’s leaning against a tree trunk with his arms crossed.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yeah, just tell me what to do.”
I gesture toward the open grass. “Let’s start there. Natural poses. Nothing stiff.”
He follows without complaint, which surprises me. I half-expected him to be difficult, but he’s cooperative and easy. I take a few test shots, adjusting the exposure as I go.
“Turn a little to the left,” I say. “And relax your shoulders.”
He shifts, and I capture the shot. Through the lens, he looks different. Less intimidating and more human. The light catches his profile and the line of his jaw.
I lower the camera. “Let’s try something else.”
I circle him, testing different angles. He moves when I tell him to and tilts his head when I ask. His movements are fluid and natural, as if he’s used to being watched. And he probably is. Hockey players spend half their lives performing for crowds.
But this feels different. More intimate, since it’s just the two of us and the camera between us.
I notice a thin leather bracelet on his left wrist. It’s worn and faded, like it’s been there for years. I zoom in and snap a few close-ups. The edges are frayed, and the leather soft from constant wear.
I redirect him to different spots around the clearing. He leans against one of the trees, then crouches low with his elbows resting on his knees. I have him lie back in the grass with his arms behind his head as he looks up at the sky. He complies without questioning me, and I keep taking photos.
My focus narrows to the details. The way his fingers curl against the grass. The subtle tension in his posture, even when he’s supposed to look relaxed. The way the light filters through the branches above him and casts shadows across his face.
“Sit up,” I say. “And face me.”
He pulls himself upright, folding his legs beneath him and resting his hands on his thighs. I snap a few shots, then lower the camera.
“Kneel for me,” I say, then immediately regret how it sounds.
A smirk tugs at his mouth, but he drops to his knees without saying anything. When he looks up at me, the smirk’s already gone. His expression is softer now and more open than I’ve seen it.
I raise the camera, but I hesitate. The light catches his eyes, and for a moment, I just stare at him. So fucking beautiful.
I lower the camera and step closer. His hair’s falling into his face.
Before I can think better of it, I reach out and brush the strands back. My fingers graze his temple, and he goes still. As his eyes lift to me, his expression changes. My hand stays in his hair longer than it should.
His gaze holds mine, and the rest of the world blurs out. Nothing exists except the way he’s looking at me right now.
I pull away and step back, lifting the camera again. “Stay like that.”
I take the shot, then another. My hands aren’t as steady as they should be, and I hate that he’s affecting me like this.
I keep taking photos, adjusting the angle and the exposure, but my focus is slipping. I keep noticing things. Small, stupid things. The way his breathing changes when he looks at me. His jaw tightening when I don’t say anything. His fingers pressing into his thighs, like he’s holding himself still.
Aw shit. Why does he have to be so...
Ugh!