7
Campbell
I weaved through the chaos of the frat house, barely paying attention to the blur of faces around me. All night, something preoccupied my thoughts, and a familiar frustration simmered beneath the surface. I turned into the kitchen to grab a drink, but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Hazel standing at the counter, staring at the array of bottles and mixers like they were a puzzle she couldn’t solve.
A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched her. Her attire, though unusual, was captivating; its fit highlighted her figure, leaving me breathless yet unnoticed by her. Her shoulders stiffened when she noticed me, even if she pretended not to. I sauntered up to the counter, picking up a random bottle and inspecting the label.
“You said you’re not the partying type, yet this is the second time I’ve seen you at one.”
Hazel glanced at me before returning her focus to the drink she was pouring.
“You say that like you know me.”
My smirk widened as I leaned against the counter beside her.
“I think I have a good idea.” I said. “But I feel you’ve been avoiding me.”
That got her attention. She looked up at me, her expression guarded but her eyes sharp. Her lips tightened, and she crossed her arms.
“Maybe I just don’t like arrogant hockey players.”
“Ah, so you must have been thinking about me to form an opinion.” I said, my tone teasing.
Her scoff was sharp, and she pushed past me without a word. I didn’t stop her, letting her go with the same grin. I admired the way she carried herself, even when annoyed with me. I welcomed her challenge.
**
I sat back in my chair, engaged in the conversation swirling around me. My teammates were loud, laughing and throwing playful punches at each other’s arms. A couple of girls hung around the edges of our circle, trying to catch our attention, but I didn’t care. The party felt stale, predictable–nothing but background noise. I tapped my fingers against the armrest, scanning the crowded room until my gaze snagged on a familiar figure standing at the edge of the party. Hazel.She stood, her arms crossed, glancing around as though she were trying to blend into the wall. She looked out of place, like she’d rather be anywhere else. My mouth quirked into a small grin. Her presence captivated me.
“Miss me, Campbell?”
A sugary, smug voice appeared, and I looked up, seeing Nevaeh approach. Her hair and makeup were perfect, but I only felt irritated. Before I could respond, she plopped down onto my lap, looping her arm around my shoulders and leaning in like we were some kind of couple. My jaw tightened.
“Hey, Nevaeh.” I said, forcing a polite tone.
“You looked bored,” she purred, her voice laced with fake sweetness. She trailed her fingers along my chest like she was staking her claim. “Figured I’d entertain you.”
I looked at her, then at Hazel. Hazel stared at the floor, ignoring the party.
“That’s nice of you.” I muttered, my gaze flicking back to the girl at the edge of the room.
Nevaeh leaned closer, playing with my hair.
“We should have a repeat of what happened in my room. Don’t you think?”
I offered a faint smirk.
“I just remembered something.”
I lifted her off my lap and stood, brushing off my jeans.
“What?” Nevaeh blinked at me, confused. “Where are you going?”
“I need to check on something.” I said, walking away.
I didn’t wait for her protests. My focus was on Hazel, my steps deliberate as I made my way to her. When I reached her, she looked up, her expression morphing from surprise to annoyance.
“Campbell.” She said, her tone making it clear she wasn’t in the mood.
“Hey, there, Sunshine.”
“Why are you still talking to me?”
I chuckled, undeterred by her disdain for me.
“You know, for someone who’s always avoiding me, you sure seem to find yourself in my orbit a lot.” Her lips thinned, and she turned back toward the drink table, ignoring me as she poured herself a drink. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was evading eye contact, and it made me want to push her buttons. “Are you still mad about the bonfire?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Hazel paused, her hand hovering over the table. Then she turned to face me, her eyes sharp.
“You think this is about the bonfire?”
“Well—”
“It’s about you hooking up with my best friend and then thinking you can flirt with me like it doesn’t matter.” Her words stunned me. I blinked, surprised, as she stepped closer, her voice unwavering. “I’m not that kind of girl, Campbell. And if you think I am, you’ve got me all wrong.”
Before I could respond, she pushed past me, her shoulder brushing mine as she walked away. I watched her go, frustration bubbling in my chest. My usual quick wit failed me.
**
The rink was silent except for the sharp sound of my skates slicing across the ice. The cold bit my face, but I barely noticed as I lined up another shot. My chest felt constricted, not exertion, but persistent pressure. Inhaling, I focused on the puck, trying to block everything out. I fired it into the net, the loud thud echoing in the empty arena. I skated to the boards, resting my stick across my knees as I bent over, trying to catch my breath. Despite my shooting success, it felt insufficient. The captaincy wasn’t a title; If the team lost, it was my fault. If someone slacked during practice, it was my duty to fix it. I felt steel bands tightening around my chest from the pressure of expectations. I straightened, grabbing another puck. My hands felt clammy inside my gloves, and my throat was dry, despite the cold air. I adjusted my grip on my stick, my fingers trembling.
“Get it together.” I said under my breath.
I lined up the puck again, willing my focus to sharpen, when a voice cut through the stillness.
“You’re leaning too far forward on your follow-through.”
I froze, my stomach twisting as if someone had caught me doing something wrong. I turned, my breath hitching when I saw my father leaning against the boards, arms crossed, his expression as critical as ever.
“Dad,” I said, swallowing hard. My voice was rough like I hadn’t used it in hours. “Didn’t know you were here.”
“I’ve been watching for a while,” he replied, straightening up. “And it’s a good thing I did. That last shot was sloppy.”
The back of my neck prickled, my pulse pounding in my ears. I wanted to argue, to tell my dad I’d been practicing for hours, but I bit my tongue.
“I’ll fix it.”
Dad stepped closer, his shoes scuffing against the rink floor.
“You’ll need to do more than that,” he said, his tone sharp. “I’ve been monitoring your grades.” My stomach dropped, and my hands gripped my stick tighter. “You’re slipping,” he continued. “If you don’t improve, coach will bench you. Or worse, kick you off the team.”
“I have been studying.”
“Don’t lie to me, Campbell.” His voice cut like ice. “No one studies at frat parties, and from what I hear, that’s all you’ve been doing.”
My chest tightened further, my breathing shallow. The rink walls felt oppressive. I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down.
“I’ll do better.”
“You’ll need to,” Dad said, his tone as unforgiving as ever. “You’re a good player, Campbell, but good isn’t enough if you want to make it to the big leagues. Work harder. Study harder.”
I nodded, the action was a reflex.
“I’ll work harder. I promise.”
My father studied me for a moment, then gave a curt nod.
“See that you do.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty rink. I stood there, my chest heaving as I tried to breathe. My head felt foggy, and the ache in my jaw reminded me I’d been clenching my teeth the entire time. I skated back to the net, lining up another puck with trembling hands. Work harder. My father habitually uttered those words. I took another shaky breath, firing the puck into the net. It hit the boards with a loud crack, reverberating through the cold, empty arena.