Chapter 24
HAILEY
Fuckface : Hey, Hailstorm. I’ve done the locker inventory and my side of the locker assignments.
Fuckface : I did good, right? Right? Do I get a reward?
Shit, what did he want me to do, pat him on the head and call him a good boy? Knowing that idiot, he’d probably like it, too. Ugh.
I stared at the message bubbles on my phone screen, the implications of his message sinking in as I shifted in my seat.
It was already 7 p.m., and both teams were already at the dining hall, waiting for the meal to begin.
I'd gotten here thirty minutes ago—thirty minutes too damn early—because when I'd found the locker rooms, the inventory had already been done.
Of course, I'd hoped that idiot hadn't done it, but his messages were proof that my hope was in vain.
My fingers tightened around my phone. Damn it. Damn it. I'd clearly told him to do his share of the inventory and that I'd handle my share later. Why the hell had he done it all by himself?
You did run out on him earlier. The thought was sharp; a bladed accusation I couldn't escape. Because, yeah, I had run away.
And now, because of that, I owed him again.
“Just great.” I muttered under my breath. I was still battling the guilt of him getting injured saving Dani, and now, he'd gone and finished such a time consuming task that was supposed to be meant for two of us, all by himself.
With his still healing back, too . Ugh, I definitely did not need to remember that.
“Shit,” My thumb hovered over the keyboard. What was I supposed to say? What did he want me to say? Was this some kind of psychological warfare tactic I wasn’t aware of?
“Everything okay, Cap?” Gina asked, and I locked my screen so fast I nearly dropped the damn thing.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It's nothing.”
The dining hall was already buzzing with noise—clinking plates, scattered laughter, the scrape of chairs against wood floors. Gina and the Rink Runners’ Vice captain had really done more than I’d expected with the dining hall prep.
My eyes immediately started scanning the room, searching without consciously meaning to, until I found him sitting with Coach Gunner near the far wall.
Lively's back was to me, his attention completely focused on whatever his coach was saying.
Even from here, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he leaned forward slightly like the conversation required every ounce of his concentration.
That weird flutter returned to my stomach, and I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached.
This was ridiculous. I didn't like owing people, especially not him .
It made everything complicated, twisted things into knots I couldn't, for the life of me, begin to unravel. I had this ominous feeling that unraveling these knots would only unspool the already established status quo and, if I was being honest, I’d had quite enough of that.
I need to even this out , I thought, sliding into a seat at our table. Find a way to pay him back so we're square again .
“—and then he just stood there like a damn statue and watched me move the damn thing to the back of the hall,” Gina was saying, and I forced myself to tune back in. “I swear, it's like he was trying to piss me off.”
“At least yours doesn't keep making stupid jokes,” Sarah groaned, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary violence. “Logan's been at it for hours. Hours , Hails. I'm going to lose my mind .”
The conversation swirled around me, complaints and grumbles blending into white noise as my gaze kept drifting back to where Lively sat.
And I jolted, flicking away once I realized what I was doing.
Which wasn’t anything weird, really. No, I was just checking to make sure I knew where my scheming enemy was. That was all.
The sharp whistle of feedback cut through the chatter, making everyone wince and turn toward the front of the room. Coach Gunner stood, his weathered face set in stern lines as he surveyed both teams.
“Alright, listen up!” His voice boomed across the dining hall, silencing conversations mid-sentence. “Before we get into the good stuff, I've got some ground rules to lay down.”
A collective groan rose from both tables, but it died quickly under his glare.
“First off, this segregation bullshit stops now.” He gestured between our tables, his expression brooking no argument. “You've been paired up for a reason. That means you sit with your partner, you work with your partner, you eat with your partner.”
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
“But Coach—” someone started to protest, but Coach Hawkins cut them off with a look that could freeze boiling water.
“No buts. Move. Now .”
The grumbling intensified, but chairs started scraping as people reluctantly got up to find their assigned partners. I watched Gina trudge over to where Dylan sat, her face a mask of resignation. Zoe stomped toward Matt with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their execution.
And Lively... Lively was already standing, turning to look directly at me with that goddamn knowing smile spreading across his face.
My pulse kicked up a notch. Then another. Because he was walking toward me, weaving between tables with that easy confidence that made my skin prickle, and I suddenly felt like prey being stalked by something much bigger and infinitely more dangerous than I'd given him credit for.
I did not like that feeling at all. If anyone out of the two of us was going to feel like prey, it should be him .
He dropped into the chair beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne.
I scrunched up my nose at once. “What are you smiling at, fuckface?” The words snapped out sharper than I intended, irritation flaring at the way my pulse hammered just from his proximity.
Ah , I thought, my brain's still broken, isn't it? Definitely looked like it.
“Didja miss me, Hailstorm?” His voice was warm, teasing, and I could feel him watching me like I was some fascinating puzzle he was trying to solve.
I snorted. “As if.”
“That's the second time.” He said, his lips curving into the beginnings of that grin I found annoying.
"Huh? Second time of what?” I frowned at him, and he chuckled.
“You ran away before we could finish our tasks, Hailstorm.” He said, his eyes intently focused on my face.
My eyes flew wide once. “Hey,” My throat worked. “Who ran away from you? I had things to take care of, okay?”
Coach Gunner's voice boomed across the room again, cutting off whatever scathing response had been resting on the tip of my tongue.
“Welcome to Blackwater Bay, your home for the next week. Although it’s a retreat,” he announced, his tone shifting to something that almost resembled enjoyment.
And we could all feel it; that that only meant that he was going to enjoy running us to the ground.
“You are going to be pushed harder than you've ever been pushed before.
You're going to face challenges that'll test not just your individual skills, but your ability to work as a unit.”
Murmurs rippled through the room, but everyone was listening now, the earlier complaints momentarily forgotten.
“To start things off, we've arranged a little challenge. There's a high-ropes course set up in the woods. The winning pair or team, depending on how this shakes out, will have first pick of any amenity in the camp for the rest of the week.”
That got everyone's attention. I could see it in the way bodies straightened, eyes lighting up with competitive fire.
The promise of privilege, of being first in line for whatever comforts this place had to offer.
It also got my attention. Because that course was supposed to be for later in the week.
“Hey, why’d he move it up?” I whispered to Lively, not bothering to turn my head.
“Well, my coach said something about deciding to kill our ‘rivalry’ early.” He replied and I scoffed.
Coach Hawkins hadn’t told me anything about that. But then, I was the one to blame here. I hadn’t conferred with her yet. I should correct that after dinner.
“I'm going to win that,” Zoe announced, her voice carrying across the room.
A snort from some of the Rink Runners. “Hey, Matt, you hear that?”
“So what?” Matt fired back without hesitation. “If she says we're going to win it, then we're going to win it.”
“Ooh, it hasn’t even been a full day, and someone's already halfway to henpecked.”
“Hey! Which bastard just said that?”
“That. Is. Enough .” Coach Hawkins growled, and the squabbling died down like someone had flipped a switch. “You guys better behave yourselves. You're not the only team here at the Blackwater Bay, so you guys better shape up and represent your school to the best of your ability while you're here.”
Wait. What?
The room exploded into whispers and speculation, conversations erupting at every table like dominoes falling in sequence.
“Other teams?” Logan's voice carried from two tables over. “What other teams?”
“Who else?” Matt leaned forward, eyes wide. “I’m willing to bet it's those losers from Riverside.”
“Yeah,” Dani cut in, turning in her seat to look at him. "But Lakefield Academy is also a possible choice, too. They're ranked third in the region.”
“Lakefield?” Gina scoffed. “Please. They couldn't find their way out of a paper bag—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Randy's deep voice rumbled through the chatter. “What if it really is the Riverside Rebels? Remember what they did to us last year?”
“Don't even bring that shit up,” Dylan groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Those assholes play dirty.”
Thing was that our area had quite the smattering of some of the most obnoxious men's hockey teams this side of the Equator who could blow the Rink Runners out of the water with the size of their damned egos.
The Riverside Rebels just happened to be one of them.
I really didn't want to run into them either.