3. Three
THREE
H arley
The common room is empty when I get back to the dorm. I drop my backpack on the coffee table and take a seat on the couch, allowing the cushions to swallow me up. I close my eyes, basking in the silence that consumes me for the time being.
My dorm is occupied by three other girls. They’ve all greeted me since I arrived, but nothing more than friendly pleasantries. We all have private rooms with locking doors, but otherwise, we share the common area, a large bathroom, and a small kitchen.
“It’s a new start, Har,” I whisper to myself.
A new start. It’s what I wanted. What I begged my father for. After months of telling him I desperately wanted to transfer, he finally relented.
He and my mother sent their “people” to come pack me up and escort me from one campus to the next. They didn’t check in to make sure I settled in alright. Didn’t call or text. Not even an email from my mother.
Sitting up, I push all the negative thoughts about my parents away. I need to focus on studying for the time being. Getting caught up in Professor Gordon’s class is more important than my need to transfer schools in the middle of the semester. And it’s much more important than the radio silence I’m receiving from my only family.
I pull out my textbook and notebook, settling my weight on the floor. Setting my assorted pens out, I release a deep breath. I hum the tune of that annoyingly catchy song and resume the studying I had to abandon in the library.
The door clicks open and softly closes. I drag my attention to the door, noticing the light dimming from the windows. I’m not sure how much time has passed since I started studying, but I could guess at least an hour by the way the sunset shines through the windows.
A girl stands just inside the dorm, all long legs and bronze skin. Her long, dark hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders and down her back. Her amber eyes meet mine and a slow smile slides across her beautiful round face.
“Hi,” she says, bouncing into the living room. “My name is Alicia. You must be Harley.”
Nodding, I wave my hand in the air before dropping it back to my book. I’m not good with people and people are even worse with me. She tilts her head, reading the title of one of my textbooks on the table.
“Oof. You’re like a super nerd. What’s your major?” Alicia drops herself into a chair, folding her legs underneath her.
“Statistics,” I answer shyly, twisting my hands together in my lap.
“Ah. Which means you likely met the smartest guy in school today. Was he nice to you?” Her eyebrows raise.
“Jax Stone?” I ask, needing the clarification. She nods, her lips pursing and a knowing smirk crossing them. “If you call death glares at my back and the side of my face, nice…then yes.”
She barks out a laugh. “Yeah, he’s not the most pleasant person to be around. But he’s the best first line center that the school has had in years.”
First line center . “He’s on the hockey team?”
“Yup,” Alicia says cheerfully, “He’s an animal on the ice.”
“Interesting,” I murmur.
I more pegged him for a delinquent with a brain. But a hockey star? Ugh, he just got even worse. Harley + Jock = Enemies. Harley + Jocks named Jax = What’s worse than enemies? Nuclear enemies? That checks out.
“You watch hockey?” Alicia asks.
Licking my lips, I shake my head. “No, sports really aren’t my thing.” I lift the open textbook from the coffee table.
I don’t dare tell her that I eat, sleep, and breathe hockey in secret. Especially with Jax being the center of the school team. First line center. Great. He’s probably incredible on the ice.
“Well,” she says with a smile, “I love hockey. And I’m adopting a nerd as my new best friend, so you’re gonna have to suck it up and learn to love hockey, too.”
“I’m sorry—what?”
“It’s not that big of a hardship. Hockey players have the nicest butts. I mean like,” Alicia stops, holding her hands out as if she is grabbing said hockey butt with both her palms. “The very nicest.”
She’s not wrong. Hockey butts are superior to all butts.
I can feel my cheeks start to flush. “Best friend?”
Alicia taps her chin, eyeing me skeptically. “You’re a single child. Aren’t you?”
Pinching my brows together, I ask, “How’d you know that?”
She shrugs. “In that case, sisters. Because everyone needs a sister, especially one like me.” The smile that spreads across her face is breathtaking.
I let out a laugh. “You’ll throw me in the trash eventually. But I’ll enjoy your sisterhood in the meantime.”
Alicia gasps, “I would never!”
She would and she will. Everyone does. But it’s okay, because despite not wanting to be dumped by another “best friend”, Alicia is really funny. Her bubbly personality is a magnet, and I would love to stick around for a bit.
Her eyes study me for a heartbeat. “He wasn’t nice at all?”
I shake my head, closing my textbook entirely. “No. And he already gave me a less than desirable nickname, too.”
“What?” A single eyebrow raises with her question.
“Davidson,” I grumble. It’s not the first time I’ve been called a stupid bike before.
She hums and then clicks her tongue. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to do him one better.”
“How? Call him jailbird?” I ask sarcastically.
“Nope. Just call him by his real name. He hates it.” Alicia flips her legs out, crossing one over the other happily.
“What’s his real name?”
“Zayden Jax Stone.”
Of course, his name would be one to roll off the tongue smoother than a top shelf whiskey.
I walk into class Friday morning with a little more pep in my step thanks to being entirely on time. But the pep falters as soon as I catch the dark eyes watching me from the same spot as the day before. I gracefully recover before I trip over my feet and walk right on over to the desk directly in front of him.
He’s dressed for the game tonight. Khaki slacks paired with shiny brown loafers. A soft blue button-up shirt and a silky brown tie to match his shoes. He looks utterly devastating. I ignore the way my core tightens at the sight of him.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Davidson,” he says tauntingly. “Make sure to sit in the back today.” He twirls a finger over the top of his head.
“Mm,” I hum. “A dig at my hair. Nice one. However, I like this seat right here, Zayden.” I point to the chair next to me.
The muscle in his jaw jumps just before he bites out, “Jax.”
“Harley,” I retort, dropping my bag.
I turn my back on him, taking the seat and pulling my materials from my backpack. Once everything is out on my desk, I smile even though he can’t see it. I can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of my head.
“For someone who has a problem with my hair, you sure do enjoy looking at it.”
He makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a grunt. The desk creaks under his weight as he leans in. His scent envelopes me, wrapping around me like a foggy haze. Leather and pine surrounding me in an intoxicating way.
His breath ghosts out, ruffling my hair to the right. “I like nothing about you, doe eyes.”
My spine stiffens and I can feel my breaths quicken in tandem with the beating of my heart. Not being liked is nothing new to me. But the way he said it has my brain struggling to make the words make sense. His words were meant as a taunt, but came out more smooth and almost…flirty.
A low chuckle sends goosebumps erupting down my bare arms. “Do I make you nervous, Davidson?”
“No,” I breathe out.
“Mm,” he hums, the low timber rumbling through his chest. “I think I do.” I can feel the heat of his breath with each word. “Unfortunately, I have very little reassurance for you, doe eyes. I’m all bark and even more bite.”
He clamps his teeth down on my shoulder and my brain seems to go completely blank. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it got his point across nonetheless. Heat floods my core and I feel the instant dampening in my underwear.
I’m playing a very dangerous game here. There’s a chance I might even be dancing with the devil.
Jax sits back in his seat. I can feel the victory radiating off of him. As to not show him the entirety of my flushed face from my body’s reaction to his bite, I turn my head just enough to look at him from the corner of my eye.
“Unfortunately for you, I like men that have a little bark and a lot of bite in them.”
All I receive in response is one dark brow raising. Not sure if it’s in surprise or challenge. I’m going with the latter coming from him. I turn back to face the front just as his knuckle taps the desk.
He taps like that in each class throughout the rest of the day, still sitting right behind me in every single one. And when we both enter the library, seemingly ignoring the existence of one another, Jax continues to tap that single knuckle.
From the way he holds his hand, I have decided that it’s the second knuckle of his middle finger. And with every succession of tapping that damn digit on the table, I decide it’s in time with the very beating of my heart.
I’m scribbling notes down. Today the humming is a slightly different tune. Still being Taylor Swift. But now it’s to the song Mean . Which I feel is incredibly suiting for the admirer I’ve gained in the last forty-eight hours.
My eyes flick up, catching his gaze pinned on me. His eyebrows are pulled down in a scowl that seems to make him even more breathtaking than when he’s giving no indication of emotion at all.
“Take a picture,” I quip, “it’ll last longer.” It’s so quiet, I don’t expect him to hear the muttered words from under my breath.
“Send me one if you want me to have one so bad, Davidson.” He proceeds to list off a ten-digit number, and the bastard is probably cocky enough to list his own.
Seeing as I’m taking notes anyways, I write the stupid thing down. I keep up the never-ending loop of today’s song choice, while reburying my attention into the textbook.
“Why the humming?” he asks.
The curiosity is laced through his tone, but I don’t answer. I snap my eyes to him briefly, letting an eyebrow raise before dropping my stare back down to the words in front of me. His gaze is penetrating, making me shift in my seat.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, doe eyes?”
I roll said ‘doe eyes’ in indignation. The nauseating nickname paired with his original one of choice is enough to make me want to press my thumbs into both of his eye sockets.
“Stop staring at me,” I bite out, meeting his impenetrable stare.
His lip curls up just enough to give me a view of perfectly straight, white teeth. Of course, he has perfect teeth, too. “I’m staring at you because your humming is fucking annoying.”
I look around the library and then back to him. “Funny. I don’t see anyone holding a gun to your head forcing you to stick around, Zayden.”
He snarls at me. “Stop calling me that.”
Dropping my pen, I tap my finger to my lips, pretending to contemplate his words. “How about…no?” I tilt my head to the side on the last word.
“Why do you hum?” he grinds out.
A humorless laugh bubbles out of me. “Sorry, hockey jockey. But I don’t share my secrets with the enemy.”
I watch Jax rise from his seat. And because he never took any books out of his bag, he slings it over one giant shoulder. At some point during the day, he rolled up his sleeves. His forearms are veiny and muscular, and I have to force myself not to look at them. He even loosened his tie, something I only notice now.
His throat bobs with a swallow as he takes calculated steps toward me. Those dark eyes look at me like I’m his next meal. And with each step closer, my pulse increases more.
I stretch my arms over the page of my notebook, being sure to hide the phone number beneath my fist. I force my breathing to remain controlled. He stops just behind my chair, bending down so that his head is right next to mine.
“Just so you know, Davidson. I hadn’t quite yet pegged you as the enemy. But if you’d like to be enemies, I will happily oblige. And just to give you a bit of an upper hand, I play dirty.” Jax’s words are low, his tone even. The taunt floats in the air as he stands to his full height and exits the library.
I try to not watch him leave. But my eyes stay locked on his retreating form. The muscles that coil beneath the dress shirt he’s wearing. How his slacks fit him oh so perfectly. Conforming to his butt and thighs in all the best ways.
I drop my head to the table, just as he steps out of the door, and groan quietly into the pages of my text book.
Zayden Jax Stone has a fantastic hockey butt.