15. Austin
AUSTIN
I ’m early.
Which is ridiculous, because I’m never early. Especially not to practice, where I now do nothing but watch my teammates on the ice. Yet here I am, parked on the bench at the side of the rink, my water bottle in hand.
Really, I’m just waiting.
The skating team still has a few minutes left, and I know—because I definitely, totally checked the group schedule—that Maisie’s practice runs right up against ours today.
I stretch my legs out in front of me, roll my shoulders, and try to play it cool even though all I want to do is just watch her.
She’s not even doing anything fancy. Just gliding, her arms stretched out for balance, her head tilted slightly to one side. But it’s still… captivating. Still enough to make me stop and watch her.
A month ago, I didn’t even know her name. Now it’s like my eyes search for her without asking me first. She’s just… there, in my brain.
She’s a part of my day now. My week. My everything, kind of. And I’m not sure how it happened, only that I don’t want it to stop.
The guys clatter in behind me, loud as always. Ryan’s the first one through the rink doors. Logan and Nathan trail him, mid-argument about whatever it is they’re arguing about today. Cole’s quiet, as usual. Dude needs to lighten up. I wonder if his face hurts from constantly frowning.
“Hey, look who’s already here,” Logan says, grinning as he drops his gym bag onto the bench with a loud thud. “Is that Austin freaking Rhodes, early to practice? Alert the media.”
Ryan arches a brow at me. “You trying to win points with Coach or just waiting for your girlfriend?”
I scowl. “She’s not my—” I pause. Start over. “I’m not waiting for her.”
He scoffs. “Right. You just like hanging out at figure skating practice now.”
The sound of a skate landing on the ice reaches me, and I don’t even try to be subtle as I glance up.
Maisie has her arms stretched out as she lands a jump, and my eyes drift to her cropped top that shows the tiniest sliver of her stomach when she moves.
“You’re literally drooling,” Ryan whispers beside me.
I elbow him hard enough he grunts. “Shut up.”
He chuckles and heads into the lockers when the figure skating coach blows her whistle, signaling for the girls to get off the ice.
Maisie doesn’t see me at first. The other girls start trickling off the ice, heading for the locker room. She heads over to the bench and bends over, pulling out the rubber skate guards from her bag, snapping them over the blades. That’s when she looks up, and sees me.
Her eyes widen just a little, then she smiles. It hits me straight in the chest. Those eyes. Those freckles. I swear it does something to my ribcage. Like my heart expands just a little too fast for the room it’s in.
“Hey,” she says, a little breathless, her cheeks flushed pink in the most adorable way.
“Hey.” I grin and lean back against the bench, like I haven’t just been staring at her like a creep for ten straight minutes. “Didn’t know I’d get a pre-practice performance.”
She rolls her eyes but she’s still smiling. “That was just practice,” she replies with a shrug. “Nothing special.”
“Well,” I say, blowing out a breath, “ten out of ten. Judges are floored.”
Maisie chuckles as she bends to adjust her skate guard, her top riding up slightly, revealing the waistband of her leggings and a peek of her lower back.
I try—really try—not to be obvious about how I look at her. But I just… can’t look away from her. The curve of her waist, the way her leggings hug her hips and thighs and don’t hide a damn thing.
As she straightens up, the sound of voices echoes through the tunnel as the guys saunter out of the locker room in gear.
Logan gives me a mock-sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he passes. “Let us know if you need us to tape your ankles. Wouldn’t want you straining anything from all that sitting.”
Ryan chuckles, shaking his head, and even Cole arches a brow at me, his face tinged with amusement.
I flip them all off as they step onto the ice. “You bitches wish you looked this good doing nothing.”
Maisie scoffs beside me, and I glance down at her, arching a brow.
“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?”
That gets a smile out of her. “A little,” she says, scrunching her nose in the cutest fucking way.
“Rhodes!” Coach’s voice rings out across the rink as he appears from the staff hallway, his whistle swinging around his neck. “Stop flirting and get back to the bench.”
Christ. Busted by the ball buster himself. “I’m not flirting, Coach,” I lie—because I was definitely flirting—and gesture toward Maisie. “She’s my tutor.”
Coach squints at her, probably remembering how I almost knocked her out with my water bottle.
Maisie flushes. “Hi.”
He grunts. “Hope you’re good, sweetheart. You’ll need divine intervention to pull this one through midterms.”
“I’m trying my best,” she says with a small shrug and a polite smile.
Coach eyes me. “Good. Because if Rhodes doesn’t pass, he’s not skating. And if he’s not skating, I’ve got to watch Logan try to run power plays, and I’d rather eat a jockstrap.”
“Hey!” Logan calls out. “I heard that!”
Coach waves him off. “Get on the ice.”
“Hi.” I turn my head, seeing Isabella, with her clipboard in hand, smiling at Maisie. “Maisie, right?”
Maisie blushes instantly. “Um… yes. And you’re Isabella.”
“That’s right,” Isabella says, flashing her a smile, her curls tucked into a messy bun today. “You were really good out there.”
Maisie’s voice softens. “Thanks.”
I watch her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, blushing.
I don’t think she gets compliments like that often, but she should.
She’s so—God, I don’t even know. I have no fucking words for what this girl is.
I suck at words, suck at saying what I think.
But I swear, if I had a single poetic bone in my body, I’d write a whole damn sonnet about her.
“If you ever get bored with Austin, you can always come and hang out with me,” Isabella teases, flashing her a smile.
I give her a dry look. “No one ever gets bored with me.”
Maisie twists her lips. “That’s debatable.”
I lift my brows, glancing down at her, seeing that adorable teasing smile on her face. “You love my company, Freckles. Don’t lie.”
She chuckles. I love the sound of her laugh. Her whole face lights up when she smiles and it makes me feel like I’m looking at sunshine. And maybe that sounds cheesy, but whatever. I’m standing here getting knocked flat by a damn smile.
“I should get going,” Isabella says, placing a hand on Maisie’s arm. “But it was nice to see you again.”
Maisie smiles. “You too.”
Isabella heads off, standing beside her dad, and Maisie shifts, her eyes flicking toward the locker room.
“I should go change,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ll see you Friday?”
She nods. “Friday.” She takes a few steps, then glances back. “Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply with a grin.
She rolls her eyes, before she turns around, and I watch her go, the soft bounce of her ponytail, the way her skates click on the rubber mat. She disappears into the hallway, and I sit back on the bench, letting out a breath.
The guys are already skating drills, sticks clacking, shouts echoing off the walls.
I should be out there.
But I can’t play until I pass.
And to pass, I need her.
But if I’m being honest?
Even if I didn’t need her—like, even if my shitty grades were magically wiped off the face of the earth—I’d still want to be around her.
I’d still want her smile, her sarcasm, the way she looks at me.
Maisie Wilson is my tutor.
But she’s also becoming something else entirely.
And I don’t think I’m ready for what that means.
But I want to be.
God, I want to be.