Chapter 23
HAILEY
I jerked so sharply I nearly collided with Lively's chest. He was leaning in, entirely too close, his voice low and amused.
"I've been calling you." His voice was low, and when my eyes coasted upwards, it was to glimpse a sweaty slice of his collarbone through the open collar of his varsity jacket. My pulse kicked at the sight. Once. And that was really fucking weird.
So, I twisted away from him with a sharp glare. "Do you have to be in my personal space?"
Lively's lips curved into a slow, indulgent smile; the kind that made me instantly regret ever thinking he'd looked different before. "You weren't answering."
"Maybe take that as a sign," I shot back, still annoyed at the way he'd startled me. Or was I annoyed at myself? I honestly couldn't tell, and I didn't know what to make of that.
His grin didn't waver. "Or maybe you just need to work on your awareness, partner." But he was still watching me with an intensity that made me want to scratch out those damn baby blues of his.
You're the one who asked to be 'professional ' , though . I mean, yeah, I had, but he was obviously trying to pick a fight with me right now so obviously he was asking for it—
You can't do that. He saved Dani . That thought was the one that froze my tongue in my mouth and I could only grit my teeth in the aftermath.
The injury from three days ago had faded to a yellowish bruise along his jaw, barely visible unless you were looking for it. Which I totally wasn't. Obviously.
"Look, let's just get our tasks done before check-in," I said, forcing my voice to remain neutral. "It's faster that way."
I expected some pushback, maybe a smartass comment about wanting to get settled first. Instead, he nodded immediately, his whole face lighting up like I'd just offered him front-row Stanley Cup tickets. WTF.
"Great idea," he said, that stupid grin that was quickly becoming a staple spreading across his face. "Lead the way, Captain."
His immediate agreement set off warning bells. What the hell was he up to now? It wasn't like he didn't have something to hold over my head, i.e., his injury, and he could just be going along with me because he wanted me to do something else.
Or maybe you're just reading too much into things?
That was also possible, too. The guilt was messing with me so much that I couldn't help but suspect everything he did or said now, all because I was somehow expecting him to demand something that would no doubt be his revenge.
Like, I couldn't exactly pick a fight with him for being agreeable; that would make me look like a complete psycho.
"Then, we'll do the practice schedule first," I said, adjusting my grip on my bag. "It'll take longer."
I gestured for him to follow me, aiming for a spot away from the chaos. Lively fell into step beside me, walking with easy strides like he had no care in the world, and the comments started immediately as we walked past our teams.
"Look at Summers," Logan called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Following her around like a lovesick puppy."
"Ten bucks says he rolls over if she asks," Matt added, drawing snickers from the other Rink Runners.
The Blizzard Belles weren't much better, watching with varying expressions of disgust and irritation. Gina caught my eye, raising one brow in askance and I just shook my head slightly in response. No, he's not giving me any trouble . And that was the problem.
I turned to glance at him, but Lively—the absolute jackass—didn't even seem bothered at all. In fact, he looked delighted, grinning from ear to ear like he'd just won the lottery instead of being publicly humiliated by his own team.
"Are you serious?" I arched a brow at him, and he blinked back at me with a theatrically innocent expression.
"Hm?" He tilted his head at me, reminding me particularly of an eager golden retriever waiting for his owner to throw the ball.
Cute . I thought, and my brain froze at once. So did my body. Because, what. The. Hell did I just think in my own head? Since when did I consider 'cute' and Lively fucking Summers in the same damn sentence?
"Hey, are you okay, Hailstorm?" Lively's voice cut through the panicked screaming in my head and I blinked, looking at him reflexively. "Do you need help carrying your bag?"
"No!" I said, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. The word fell from my lips a little too quickly, and his brows furrowed slightly. Shit. "It's nothing. I'm fine, I just remembered something I had to do…" And now, I was talking too much.
Jaw clenching, I started walking again, making sure to look straight ahead so I didn't see his face, because my brain was obviously broken.
And, no matter that I was trying to walk as fast as possible, Lively still kept up with me, walking beside me with those damned long legs of his.
And now that we were walking side by side, I couldn't help but be aware of him. Too aware.
This was so stupid. Why the hell was this happening to me right now? It wasn't even as if I… liked him or anything like that!
Ugh, I can't believe I've lived to see the day where I even think about the word 'like' and this asshole in the same thought.
It had to be this guilt that was tricking my brain into thinking we were cool with him like that…
there was no other explanation for why I was noticing stupid ass things like the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms.
I blinked, horrified at my own train of thought. Oh no, it looked like I'd gone crazy crazy. I focused all my attention on the path in front of me, determined to shake whatever weird nonsense my brain was trying to pull.
We made our way to a wooden gazebo perched on the edge of the lake, tucked between towering pines and far enough from the cabins to offer some privacy.
The ancient structure creaked as we stepped inside, worn benches circling a central table that was scratched with years of initials and crude drawings.
I dropped my bag on the table with more force than necessary, my irritation already bubbling underneath my skin. The sound echoed across the water, startling a few birds from nearby trees.
Calm down . I told myself. Calm down . It's not like he had done anything wrong, specifically. That was true. I was angry at my own brain for trying to gaslight me into thinking he was…he was “cute”. Damn it, I think I just threw up inside my mouth .
It was with that brewing annoyance that I turned my glare back at him. "Sit," I commanded, pointing at the bench opposite me, barely keeping the razor edge from my tone.
Again, I expected resistance, but the bastard didn't do that, either! He just dropped down onto the bench, folding his long legs under the table without hesitation, that infuriating grin still plastered across his face.
The immediate compliance sent an unexpected jolt through me, a flutter of.
.. something in my stomach that made heat prick at my neck.
This was completely different from the control I was used to wielding over team meetings and practice schedules.
This felt... dangerous . Seductive, even.
Seductive enough that it made me want to take this further, see how far he would let me push him around.
No. Pushing the obviously crazy thought and urge aside, I pulled my notepad from my bag with fingers that felt clumsy and uncoordinated, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand. The schedule sheet crinkled in my hands like it was mocking me.
"Let's just figure out which days we'll each lead," I said, flipping open the camp schedule sheet with more force than necessary. The paper made a sharp crack in the quiet gazebo. "And get this over with."
Lively leaned forward, his elbows resting on the weathered table, forearms flexing slightly with the movement. The table creaked under his weight as he settled in, blue eyes focused entirely on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
"Sounds good to me, Hailstorm," he replied, that damn nickname rolling off his tongue with a casual familiarity that only made me even more irritable.
"Stop calling me that," I muttered automatically, my tone sharp.
"Seven days," Lively said, his tone friendly like I hadn't just snapped at him, tapping his fingers against the wooden surface in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Three for you, three for me, and we co-lead on the last day? That would be fair."
Calm down, Hailey Baleman . I told myself. This was no way to be professional, was it?
Swallowing once, I nodded, and dragged my gaze away from his hands to focus on the schedule in front of me.
"I'll take Day One, Three, and Five." I'd purposely chosen the days with fitness testing and the scrimmage—the days that required actual skill and discipline, not just drills anyone could run.
"Works for me," he agreed, a bit too easily, not even bothering to challenge my obvious claim on the prime days. Oh God, it was official; this bastard was planning something to mess with me . There was no way he would let that go, otherwise.
I watched him run his hand through his hair—making it look even more tousled than before. The golden strands caught the dappled sunlight filtering through the gazebo roof, creating a halo effect that somehow only managed to piss me off.
Because why was I noticing that?
"Why aren't you contesting my days?" I blurted the words out without much thought.
Lively blinked back at me. "What?"
My fingers spasmed around the pen in my hand. "I picked the prime days," I said, "And you aren't even going to fight me for them?"
Lively swayed on his bench, his expression thoughtful for a literal half a second before he shimmied out a full body shrug and said, "Yeah. I don't have any issue with it."
"Why not?" I snapped, before reeling myself in again. Damn it, he just kept pissing me off with how flippant he was with everything.