4. Killian
Killian
H alfway through our next game, I score a strike, finally getting past Maddox—but just when I’m about to celebrate, I spot Maddox stretching his arm with a wince. Shit. I think the reason I’m actually ahead of him this round is because his arm’s aching.
“You okay?” I ask him.
“I’m fine.” Then he says in a low voice, “Shouldn’t have thought I could keep up with a bunch of athletes.”
We’re hanging out by the seats as the other guys go at their turn, and I know I have a little time before we go up next. “Listen, I was totally messing around. Even if I win, you don’t need to tutor me if you’d rather not.”
“Don’t get cocky. You haven’t won yet.”
I wheeze. “Hey! I’m being nice!”
“I don’t turn back on my word, so you’re fine. It’s just one session, anyway. Besides, why are you so worried? Classes just started.”
“I’m already struggling to keep up. If I didn’t miss the cut-off date, I would have dropped it.”
“Aren’t you graduating this term? You’d hold that off and come back for one more semester for one class?”
“Yup. It’s the last semester I’m eligible to play hockey for the team, and I’d rather focus on that than risk not being able to play because of one class. ”
His eyebrows furrow together. “You’re really that confident you’re going to do badly in statistics?”
“Yep!”
Maddox gives me a suspicious look, and I get it. He’s probably weirded out by how confident I am that I’m going to do spectacularly bad.
He looks as if he has something to say, but Rhys calls him over for his turn.
I watch him go, and as soon as his ball hits the pins, he stretches his dominant arm once more and cracks his neck.
I also take my turn, and I don’t think either of us is surprised when my score remains consistently higher than his.
Maddox is waiting for me by the seats when I get back.
“By the way,” he says. “Why did you think I didn’t recognize you? Or wouldn’t remember that you texted me about tutoring?”
I blink at him. “It’s a big university, and I’m just another random person.”
“Huh?”
“Huh…?”
He stares at me for a good second, only adding to my confusion.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Is this about the staring? Shit, I should apologize for that, right? Sorry. I’m not a creep, I swear. I honestly didn’t think you ever noticed me.”
He sounds bewildered. “Why wouldn’t I notice you?”
“Like I said, it’s a big university, and I’m just another random person. I’ve run into you countless times and you never seem to recognize me even if I’m right beside Caleb while you’re talking to him.”
“But I’ve called your name in class. You texted me. Of course I know who you are.”
“Yeah, but… you get a lot of attention, so I figured it didn’t matter. I assumed you still didn’t know I existed.”
Maddox’s ears redden just slightly and he chews on his plump lower lip. Goddamn. I remind myself not to stare at his mouth, especially since I’m trying to convince him I’m not a creep.
After a beat of silence, he says, “I don’t get a lot of attention. ”
“You really do, though. You’re gorgeous.”
So much for not sounding like a creep.
He shrugs a shoulder, and I wonder if he believes me—it doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about how good he looks, though. He doesn’t seem all that embarrassed about it apart from his slight blush, nor does he seem surprised, making me wonder how many times he’s been told this before.
Ugh. A part of me hopes he’s been told many times because he deserves it, but another part of me is downright jealous at the idea.
Our conversation gets cut again as we take our turns, but to be honest, I’m not all that invested in the game anymore. I’d suggest stopping because it seems like his arm is bothering him more, but I don’t want him to think I’m looking down on him.
Each time we finish our turns though, we go right back to our conversation, and I try not to look too happy about it—and I must be doing a horrible job because I swear Nick’s trying to keep Caleb from walking right up to us.
Caleb looks murderous.
Maddox mumbles to me, “It’s funny how you think you’d be just another random face in the crowd, ever. Do you have any idea what you look like?”
“No. What?”
He meets my eyes, and when his gaze settles on my mouth, my heart does a funny flip. Then his stare drifts to my torso and to my arms. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me. Do you have absolutely zero self-awareness?”
Holy shit, is he saying what I think he’s saying? Is he… flirting? “You think I’m hot?”
“That’d only be me stating a fact,” he says, and I could die on the spot from happiness. “To be clear, though, I’m not hitting on you.”
“All riiight,” I sing-song.
“I’m not, Killian.”
“I love how you say my name.”
“What the—”
“Schultz!” Rhys calls out, because of course he does. “Your turn.”
When I peek at the scoreboards, I realize that there’s a sizeable gap between Maddox and me, and I immediately get excited all over again.
I’m going to get a tutor. And it’s going to be Maddox Roussel.
After my last turn, Maddox takes his, and he doesn’t even seem to try anymore—it wouldn’t make a difference, anyway. There’s no way he could’ve caught up with me, even if he knocked all the pins out.
He walks over to me and holds up a finger. “One session.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“What?”
I give him an innocent smile. “What?”
Maddox’s eyebrows lift and the corner of his mouth twitches. I think he’s trying to decide whether to be amused or annoyed. “You free tomorrow at ten a.m.?”
I have a game in the afternoon and will probably rush to the rink right after, but none of that’s important. “Yes!”
“Okay. I’ll text you my dorm number. Please bring your stats book.”
I don’t even attempt to hide my excitement as I nod with a wide grin. Maddox gives me an odd look, but he says nothing more.
On our way back, we drop Maddox off first. I watch him walk the pathway down to his dorm in Athena Hall.
As Rhys is driving us away, I pull my phone out and take a quick screenshot of the date.
I have an entire album of screenshots that’re just my lock screen, and if anybody ever found it, they’d probably think nothing of it.
They’d probably think I took these by accident.
None of these are by accident, though. I take them out of habit when I want to remember something.
There’s maybe a hundred screenshots on my phone of only these dates, and honestly, I’ve already forgotten what half of them are for.
My system sucks, and I should probably actually write what they’re for, but at least I remember the ones that really matter.
Some of the really important ones are when I found out I got a scholarship to Camrose, when I made first line on the team, that one random night from some years ago that Dad gave me a rare compliment, and even when Walters gave me a new brand of beer I really liked so I would remember to ask him about it again.
Then there’s last year when I first saw Maddox in the library.
And now I’m adding another screenshot to my gallery, because I need to remember the day I finally talked to him.