7. Maddox
Maddox
F rom all the way across the lecture hall, I watch Killian and how he’s got his head bowed down as he answers the questions on the exam everyone is working on.
The hall is quiet save for the sound of scribbling pens and the occasional frustrated groan.
Professor Wheeler’s walking through the aisles, observing the class.
I’m seated in my usual spot by the desk in front, not missing how Killian seems to get more restless as the minutes tick by.
It’s been a week since Killian came to my dorm for a tutoring session.
And it’s also been that long since he’s stopped looking my way.
Even if I asked him to stop staring at me all the time like he does, I can’t help but feel vindicated about my impression of him.
The day we had gone bowling was a fluke—he was certainly charming, as I expected, but I was right when I assumed it was all a facade.
He didn’t actually care about class or tutoring and was only hitting on me for the chance to get into my pants.
He made it clear after that debacle of a tutoring session.
Since then, he hasn’t so much as looked in my direction.
I should be thrilled that he’s backed off, but I’m also disappointed because a delusional part of me hoped he was different.
I was hoping he’d actually want to pass this class, because I know how important he is on the team and how much getting to regionals means to Caleb .
Professor Wheeler checks his watch and announces that the exam’s done, and a soft chatter envelops the hall as they pass their papers to the front. I get up to collect them, and Professor Wheeler tells the class he’ll give everyone’s papers back after the weekend.
Everyone heads out, some of them talking about the exam and comparing answers. The students move around me, and I spot Killian, not even sparing me a glance.
I let out a breath and then a voice that I realize is mine says, “Killian.”
He lifts his chin and blinks at me, tilting his head to the side. Killian gives me a smile that even I know is forced.
“How did you do on the exam?” I mumble.
Killian’s gaze swivels to me only for a split second before he looks over my shoulder. There’s nothing even behind me, unless he’s suddenly interested in the whiteboard. He says, “I got the first few questions, at least up to the chapters you went through with me.”
I frown. “That’s barely a third of the exam.”
“Wouldn’t have gotten a thing without your help, though,” he says, giving me a playful wink that’s so stiff it’s painful to watch.
His teammate interrupts and says, “We’d better go before Coach bites our head off for being late.”
“Right!” Killian grins. “We’ll see you around, Maddox!”
At least Killian’s on time with practice. I almost tell him I’m heading to the rink, too, because Caleb wants to hang out today so I’ll be studying in the stands, but I remind myself that Killian and I aren’t friends.
I stay around for about an hour helping Professor Wheeler grade the exams, and when I get to the rink, the hockey team’s already in the middle of practice.
I set up camp in the stands, a few rows behind a group of girls who probably also go to Camrose.
It’s not unusual for spectators to come watch them practice, which is why I’ve mostly gone unnoticed the couple of times I’ve come here.
Nick spots me though, waving as he skates by, and I see him let Caleb know that I’m here.
After waving at Caleb, I open my laptop and set it on my knees, determined to finish a paper I’ve got due this week.
It would be easier for me to concentrate without the distraction of shouting athletes, but I can do my paper, even if slowly.
At least, that was my initial plan.
I watch their practice instead, even if I’d had no actual interest before. While I go to most of their games and listen to Caleb talk endlessly about hockey, it’s not a sport I care for that much.
But—I can’t take my eyes off Killian.
Their drills are endless and exhausting, and while his teammates seem to get more sluggish the longer they’re on the ice, Killian gets more pumped up.
Killian’s got so much energy in him. This is a completely different person from the quiet, sulky man in class today. He’s laughing and having fun, putting everything he’s got into these drills, and I watch him the entire time.
Before I even realize it, their practice is ending, and I haven’t so much as written an extra word in my paper. Shit. I’ve probably got some time until Caleb’s ready to go though, and I should use that time to be productive.
Again, my plan to do my paper’s crushed—because what happens next keeps my eyes off my screen.
The Camrose team clears the ice, but Killian stays behind until a group of young boys arrive, accompanied by two coaches. They seem to know Killian, and he fist-bumps each of the boys.
He coaches?
Killian removes his headgear, and he shakes his wet, dark hair. I tell myself that the electricity that goes down my spine isn’t because I find him insanely hot… not at all.
They do drills and teach the boys how to pass the puck back and forth, and Killian looks enthusiastic. You’d never guess he’s already spent two hours training before this.
“Hey, Maddox,” Nick’s voice says, and I snap my attention up. He’s standing next to me with a slight smile, his hair damp from a shower, and Nick fiddles with the strap of his bag.
How long has he been there ?
He says, “Coach wanted to talk to Caleb, so he’s running a bit late and he asked me to keep you company for a bit.”
“Oh. Okay,” I say awkwardly, flushing. I hope Nick didn’t notice me staring at Killian, though I know he’s not one to point those kinds of things out.
Nick takes a seat beside me and gestures at my open laptop, which is open to a blank document. “You working on something?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a paper due, but nothing’s coming to me.” Might as well stop pretending—I close my laptop and put it aside. “It’s fun watching these teenagers play, anyway.”
He blinks at me and smiles, then turns to the rink to observe the young hockey players as well. We both say nothing for a while, though it’s not awkward—Nick’s always been one of those guys you just can’t feel uncomfortable around.
How he ever ended up with Caleb is beyond me. As much as I love my best friend, he’s an ass, and Nick’s the kindest teddy bear of a man I’ve ever met.
And on that note, maybe I can pick his brain a little about Killian. Even if Nick finds it suspicious, he probably won’t call me out on it.
I clear my throat and gesture toward Killian, who’s on the other side of the rink fetching pucks. “I didn’t know Killian had a part-time job. It must be exhausting balancing this with his classes and practice.”
“He doesn’t. The Icehawks share a rink with us and they let us volunteer with their practice if we want to—for fun. Schultz is the only one who joins them a lot. I think it cheers him up.” Nick takes a brief pause, then adds, “He hasn’t been himself these past few days.”
“I see,” I grumble, trying not to meet Nick’s eyes.
“I assume your tutoring session didn’t end very well? He was excited about it, but I noticed his sulking started right when he came back from your dorm.”
“It went horribly,” I admit. “He was late, forgot his book, and I found him flirting with someone out in the hallway. I would’ve given him the benefit of the doubt, except that I ran into some of his friends—coincidentally, one of them was the one he was flirting with in the hallway—the night before.
They made it clear enough that the only reason Killian would even go to a study session was if he’d be getting lucky. ”
Nick jerks. “What? No, of course not. He’s tried studying with me and Rhys before, and he was the one who asked us. I can tell you, without a doubt, that he was not trying to get lucky with either one of us.”
I frown at him. Not sure what to say when Nick’s being reasonable and making me realize just how ridiculous I sound. Killian had tried to clear the air, too, but I had been too irritated to let him keep rambling.
“He really does need to pass statistics to play hockey,” Nick says. “And it’s no secret that he’s smitten with you, but Maddox… I can assure you he wouldn’t have shown up just to get into your pants. That’s not Schultz at all. He’s a flirt, but he’s not an asshole.”
Face heating, I nod. “Yeah, okay. You know him more than I do. I believe you.”
Nick gives me a weak smile. “Maybe he gave you the wrong impression because he can’t seem to stop hitting on you?”
“To be honest, that’s not what bothered me,” I admit.
“I can deal with his flirting. It’s the idea that he didn’t actually want to study that annoyed me, especially since I was making an effort to help him.
You say that he does actually need tutoring, but he’s the one who backed out when we weren’t even done yet.
He said he didn’t want to waste my time, whatever that means. ”
“He probably got upset and thought he wasn’t going to absorb anything anymore. I’m guessing that’s what he meant by wasting your time.”
I frown. “So he gave up?”
Nick lets out a soft huff. “Yeah, he does that. You know he doesn’t mean to offend, though, right? Schultz tries his best. He spaces out or gets overwhelmed, but the bigger problem is that he has no confidence in his ability to learn. I think it’s because of how his dad talks to him. ”
My curiosity piqued, I chew on my lower lip and peer at Nick. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve only met his dad a few times, but he compares Schultz to his older brothers a lot.
His choice of words isn’t… ideal.” After a moment of hesitation, Nick says, “He passes it off as jokes, but he makes comments like how it’s good Schultz can skate because that’s the only reason he got into Camrose.
And I think Schultz believes him. That’s why he gives up so easily when it comes to difficult classes. ”
A sour sensation creeps up my throat, and it makes me understand Killian a bit more—why he says he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed and why he calls himself a dumb jock.
I don’t want to waste your time, Killian had said before he left, and his words make sense now.
“His dad shouldn’t say shit like that.” My voice raises a bit.
“Yeah, Killian gets distracted and he has an excess of energy, but when he pays attention he catches on quickly.” I press my lips tightly.
“He could be a kinesthetic learner, which isn’t uncommon with athletes.
What he needs is a tutor who will adjust to his learning style. ”
It’s possible he has underlying issues with focusing, too, but I don't want to assume nor is it my business. Maybe kinesthetic learning strategies would be a start, and I’d just have to go from there.
Huh. I’m already approaching this as if there’s going to be a repeat session.
Amusement flashes through Nick’s eyes. “I agree.”
“Sorry.” Flushing, my voice comes out weak. “Got carried away there.”
He shakes his head and moves on. “He’s definitely a kinesthetic learner.
When we’re studying films or when we’re having a sit-down meeting with Coach where he discusses plays, Schultz can’t pay attention at all…
but once we’re on the ice and he’s moving around, he picks things up quicker than anyone else.
I actually tried researching how to tutor him with that in mind, but teaching’s never really been my forte and it didn’t wo rk out in the end. ”
“Hmm.”
Our conversation’s cut short when Killian skates by and notices us. His eyes widen and he cocks his head at us, making it clear that he had no idea I’d been here the entire time—though, again, why would he care?
Why do I care?
I think I’ve gotten so used to him giving me his undivided attention from afar that now that it’s stopped, my brain is confused.
Nick raises his hand to greet Killian, who waves back. I awkwardly lift my chin at him as a greeting. One of the boys then shouts for him, and he gives us one last grin before skating off.
“I may have jumped to conclusions about him,” I murmur.
Nick’s eyes light up. “So are you going to consider tutoring him again?”
“Maybe.”
I open up my laptop and close the stupid blank document meant for my paper, then open up Google. Nick watches with a smile as I type into the search bar strategies for kinesthetic learners.