Chapter Four
You Don’t Know Me
Ariana
I’d like to say I didn’t pay one single ounce of attention to Shane McCabe after that first day of class, but it would be a lie big enough to grow my nose four times in size.
Curiosity raked through me like claws as I walked back to my campus dorm, and it was all I could do to pause long enough to pee before I was at my laptop and googling him.
The top of the search revealed instantly that he played for the university’s hockey team — that must have been why the room ooh’d and aww’d when he said his name.
A few more scrolls and I discovered he was drafted to play in the NHL at eighteen, and he’d be on his way to Jacksonville as soon as he graduated.
Then, in a gut-wrenching surprise, I stumbled upon an article about the death of his parents in an ice storm when he was just seven years old.
That one sat with me long after I closed my laptop.
Each week, I’d walk into the classroom and sit in my same spot. I always arrived early — it was just part of who I was. But Shane was the same way.
He’d take his seat just minutes after I did, always two rows back.
And he’d look at me the whole way into the lecture hall, offering me a smile and a wink just before he was out of view.
I never turned around to look at him.
I knew better than to entertain whatever fantasy my stupid girl brain was trying to get me to latch onto. I’d seen firsthand what love was, and it wasn’t anything like the story they painted in the movies and books.
Love wasn’t passionate kisses and thoughtful dates planned from beginning to end.
It was fists to the face and bruised ribs, often paired with a cheap piece of jewelry and a hollow apology.
And I wanted nothing to do with it.
But one month into the semester, Professor Reid blew up my attempt to stay away from the dark-haired, gray-eyed boy.
Reid clapped his hands together at the front of the room, the sound snapping everyone’s attention forward.
“All right, folks, listen up. Your first big assignment is a field observation paper. You’ll spend a few hours volunteering at a local school, youth center, or after-school program of your choice.
Then, you’ll write a paper connecting what you observe to the theories we’ve been discussing in class. ”
A low murmur rippled through the room, some groans mixed with a few intrigued hums.
“Now, this will be a partner project,” he continued, voice carrying easily over the chatter. “You can choose your own partner today and let me know on your way out of class…” His mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “…or, if you don’t, I’ll happily assign you to whoever’s left. Your choice.”
The room erupted instantly, desks hinging and voices overlapping as everyone scrambled to claim their friends.
I turned instinctively toward a girl a few chairs away who was already angling her notebook in my direction. But before I could say a word—
“Hey!”
The voice carried above the chaos, unmistakable.
I glanced back just in time to see Shane McCabe vault two rows like it was nothing, his long legs eating the distance until he dropped into the empty seat beside me.
His boyish grin was lethal, his gray eyes flashing like he’d just scored the game-winning shot.
With one smooth sweep, he shoved the hair out of his face and stuck out his hand toward me.
“Partners?”
What could I say but yes?
· · ·
Shane let me pick the location for our assignment.
I chose Girls Inc, the after-school program I’d grown up in — a place that offered tutoring, mentorship, and a safe space for girls who needed somewhere to land after the school day ended.
It was where I’d learned how to take risks, how to speak up, how to imagine a future bigger than the one waiting for me at home.
He didn’t question the choice.
He did not, however, let me drive myself there.
Instead, he insisted we ride together, picking me up from my dorm at two o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. I told myself not to read into it, even as a flutter of nerves — and something dangerously close to excitement — settled low in my stomach. He was just being nice. That was all.
Still, when he pulled up in a black Pontiac Grand Prix and I spotted two smoothies waiting in the cup holders as I ducked inside, my pulse kicked up a notch.
“Strawberry banana or berry blast?” he asked, weighing them in each hand.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“You don’t have to be hungry to enjoy a delicious smoothie from the one and only Smoothie Guy.”
“Smoothie Guy?”
He stared at me like I’d just insulted his entire lineage. “The Smoothie Guy. The one with the cart when you get off the B Train at Commonwealth?”
I blinked, which only made his insistence grow.
“Okay. Now you have to try both. And I’ll be bringing you a new flavor every week until we find your favorite.”
“It’s freezing outside.”
“I would hardly call fifty-eight degrees freezing.”
“Well, it’s still cold.”
“So?”
“What if I don’t like smoothies?”
“Come on. Everyone likes smoothies.”
He flashed that stupid, sexy smirk, and before I could protest — or remind myself not to overthink the fact that he’d gone out of his way for me — I was tasting them.
And damn him, they were the best smoothies I’d ever had.
“Berry blast,” I said after tasting both, and Shane smirked, handing me that one and taking the other. Then, the car was in drive, and we were off.
The Fray played softly over his speakers, and Shane thumbed the steering wheel while quietly singing along.
“So, why did you pick Girls Inc?” he asked after a while.
“I like that they create a safe place for girls to take risks and grow.”
He nodded. “You ever been there before?”
“Not this location.”
“Where?”
“There was one where I grew up.”
“And where was that?”
“Connecticut.”
“Ah,” he said. “You used to volunteer there?”
I swallowed, looking out the window. “No.”
Shane glanced at me, but didn’t ask me to fill in the blank. And when he took my cue to end the conversation and reached forward to turn up the music, I was thankful.
We pulled up to Girls Inc forty minutes later, and before I could even touch the door handle, Shane was out of the car and had jogged around to my side. He held the door open and took my book bag, slinging it over his shoulder without letting me protest.
I’d never had a boyfriend. In high school, everyone knew me — which meant everyone knew my family. And there wasn’t a boy stupid enough to try to get near me when they knew who my stepfather was.
Still, I’d had crushes before. I wasn’t immune to teenage girl hormones.
But when Shane took my bag and then, without hesitation, took my hand in his — I experienced something I never had before.
My stomach erupted with a flurry of butterflies, their wings tickling the inside of my ribcage. I flushed so warm that sweat prickled the back of my neck.
And I smiled.
Because how could I not?
It was unfair, how effortlessly attractive he was.
He didn’t even have to try. He was in athletic sweats and an old hoodie that said Waterloo Black Hawks on the front, his hair disheveled beneath his beanie like he hadn’t cared to even run a comb through it.
But he wore his confidence and swagger like an accessory, and he just looked so…
Cozy.
Like he would be the perfect place to curl up and rest.
· · ·
Inside Girls Inc, the bright chatter of afterschool chaos met us at the door, along with a smiling staff coordinator who quickly split us up. Shane got waved toward the gym, where a group of girls were setting up for a basketball scrimmage, while I was sent to the art room.
The art room smelled faintly of glue and paint, the long tables littered with paper, scissors, and half-finished collages.
I slid into an empty seat beside a pair of girls bent over a poster.
They glanced at me with the wary curiosity reserved for strangers, but it didn’t take long before their chatter carried me along.
One girl talked about her dream of designing clothes, her voice sharp with certainty.
Another shrugged like she wasn’t sure when I asked what she thought she wanted to do when she grew up, then admitted she wanted to be a lawyer because her cousin said she’d be good at arguing.
They asked me questions in return, but I kept my answers clipped, redirecting them back to themselves.
And as I listened, I couldn’t stop the ghosts that rose.
It was hard not to think about me at twelve years old, at a table like this, looking at the clock and wishing the hours would slow down.
I knew once my mom showed up, the warmth of this room would evaporate.
At Girls Inc, I wasn’t the girl from the broken house.
I wasn’t defined by where I lived or who I lived with or what money I did or didn’t have. I was just… me.
And I had a chance at a future.
Still, in my mind, the credit didn’t belong to the program.
It was the kids themselves who clawed their way forward.
Just like I’d answered Professor Reid when he asked, the girls beside me weren’t thriving because someone gave them crayons and a safe building.
They were thriving because they had grit, because they were strong enough to keep going even when it seemed impossible to do.
At the end of the day, all of them had to go home.
And that was where true resilience was born.
When our time wrapped, I found Shane in the lobby, hair damp with sweat, his grin easy as the girls he’d been with clung to his arms to say goodbye. I felt myself bristle at how natural it was for him, how much they clearly adored him already.
“So,” he asked once we stepped outside, “what’d you get?”
I hugged my arms around my notebook, even as Shane took my bag again. “They’re really smart and driven. They have dreams. Even though they go home to who knows what… they find a way to look to the future with positivity and light. That’s what stuck out to me.”
He nodded. “Yeah. But what I heard most was how much they leaned on each other — on the mentors, the program, the whole community. One girl said she never would have stayed in school if it weren’t for the people here.”
I shook my head. “Well, maybe that’s what she said, but that’s not entirely it. It was still her who had to stay in school, you know? It was her who had to stick with it.”
Shane pulled us to a stop in the parking lot. “You don’t think she had help?”
“She succeeded because she didn’t quit. She kept going no matter what. It’s about resilience — what’s inside her, inside all of them. Not what’s around them.”
Shane tilted his head. “You used to go to a Girls Inc, right? That’s what you said.”
The air in my lungs thinned. “Well… yeah.”
“Do you not think they helped you?”
The question hit like a slap — not because it wasn’t valid, but because he had no right to ask it. He didn’t know what I went home to every night. He didn’t know the way my stomach sank when my mom’s headlights pulled into the parking lot, or how I’d count the hours until I could come back.
My throat tightened. “You don’t know me, Shane McCabe, and I’d really appreciate it if you stopped acting like you did.”
I snapped the words, and then I grabbed the strap of my bag off his shoulder and yanked until he released it.
I stormed toward the car, heat flooding my chest, fingers shaking. I felt sort of stupid once I got there, seeing as how it was his car, and I didn’t have the keys. I was half-tempted to catch a bus back to campus when I heard his footsteps behind me, steady and unhurried.
Wordlessly, he opened my door for me.
I didn’t look at him as I slipped inside.
The ride back toward campus was too quiet, and the longer I sat and stewed, the more I realized how cruel I’d been. He’d just been asking me questions, just arguing his side of our assignment the same way I was.
But he’d triggered me, and I hadn’t known how else to react than to push him away.
“I’m sorry—”
“Hey, I’m sorry—”
We said it at the same time, our eyes snapping to each other as we both let out low chuckles.
“You shouldn’t be,” I said next. “It was me who bit your head off.”
“You had every right to. I shouldn’t have assumed I knew anything about you.” Shane paused, switching hands on the steering wheel. “But, for the record, I’d really like to change that fact.”
His eyes met mine again, and the sincerity there nearly killed me.
“I don’t think you’d like what you discover,” I whispered.
Shane frowned, and then without hesitation, his hand was reaching for mine. He curled his fingers around my own, holding tight, as if the notion hadn’t sent those stupid butterflies into a frenzy inside me once more.
“My parents died when I was a kid.”
He said the words unflinchingly, like he was just telling me the weather report for tomorrow. Meanwhile, my jaw had unhinged, my heart stalling in my chest.
“It was an ice storm. We lived in Georgia and, well, let’s just say snowstorms really mess up the roads down there.
It’s not like here where they have plows out within the hour.
They had pulled over, the snow coming down too thick for them to see.
And I guess it was too thick for the semi-truck that hit them, too. ”
I closed my eyes, letting out a slow, pained breath.
“I grew up with my grandparents after that. They put me in hockey mostly because they didn’t know what else to do with me. I was seven, and by the time I turned ten, hockey was my whole world. The coaches, my teammates… they’re who got me through.”
He glanced at me before his eyes were on the road again, but his hand never left mine.
“So when I talk about how important community is, it’s because I lived it.
It’s because, for me, a team is everything.
” He paused. “And I realize that you probably feel the way you do because you didn’t have that.
You fought your battle alone.” He looked at me, holding my gaze. “You may still be fighting alone.”
My throat constricted, and my gaze flicked between his eyes, my chest aching in a way I hadn’t expected.
There was something in the way he looked at me — not pity, not judgment — just a quiet, unsettling understanding.
It made me want to turn away, to shield the parts of myself I’d learned to keep guarded.
But another part of me felt something shift, fragile and unfamiliar, as if his words had reached into the corners of me I didn’t even know existed. It was unnerving… and somehow comforting, too, to realize he saw the fight I’d always believed no one noticed.
“So, maybe we’re both right,” he said, looking back at the road. “Maybe resilience is born inside us, but maybe it’s fostered by the ones around us who give a shit, too.”
I squeezed his hand.
He squeezed back.
We presented our findings the next week in class.
And we got an A.