Chapter 14
I’m keenly aware of how wide my eyes are. My lips parted like I’m not done arguing but curiosity wins over.
Because he’s onto me.
This guy doesn’t need tutoring. He needs to win.
And I’m his ticket.
Not me. Shadow.
As much as I’d love to be like her, the kind of girl who goes after what she wants without overthinking every second of it, I’m not.
Bree thinks I am. And that this…was just her way of coming out.
Kane reaches past me and pulls the library door shut. His shoulder coming within inches of mine, making me on the verge of short-circuiting.
The second we step outside, the early November chill assaults us. Wind tears through the courtyard, sending my hair directly into my face. I start to brush it away when a strong hand grips my forearm.
“Careful,” Kane’s voice is deep and low as I finally shove my hair aside, just in time to see the step I’d almost missed.
“Thanks,” I breathe.
He smirks, stepping down alongside me. “I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.”
“Please don’t,” I say. “Pretty sure that happened because you were keeping a close eye on me.”
He chuckles, opening his car door and taking my hand to help me inside. My pulse stumbles as he comes around the other side and hops in.
“You hungry?” he asks as he pulls out of the illegal parking spot. Unless he’s got a free pass to park anywhere. Wouldn’t be surprised in the least.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought you had practice.”
“In about an hour and the arena is five minutes away. Plus we’ll be there for a bit and I can’t have you starving because I can’t get my schedule in order.
Let’s go to Gino’s across the street. Got a feeling you’d love their signature salad with grilled chicken.
But you’ve got to ask for extra dressing and shredded mozzarella. That’s key.”
I salivate at the mention of decent food. “Sounds good, and noted on the extra dressing.”
The knot in my chest slowly loosens as we drive across campus.
So long as no one mentions Shadow and I keep pretending this isn’t the most suspicious thing on the planet, everything be fine.
“So, what’s your major?” I ask, dipping my fork into a chunk of mozzarella.
I didn’t have a chance to ask him at our first session yesterday and it’s probably something I should know, regardless if these tutoring sessions are real or not.
“Business.”
“Because it’s interesting or because you had to pick something that isn’t hockey?”
He finishes chewing and takes a sip of ice water.
“Because hockey doesn’t last forever. Could be ten years.
Could be one bad hit. Figured I should learn how to make money after I’m done playing for it.
And honestly, it might be pretty useful during my career.
Endorsements. Contracts. Investments. Nobody teaches you how to handle that shit. ”
“Good point.” I offer a small smile and take another bite. “This salad’s addicting.”
“I know. Telling you, it’s the mozzarella. You should try their minestrone soup once December hits. Can’t believe you never had the salad though. What do you usually get here?”
I blink, stabbing a cucumber buried in the bottom. “Um…I don’t usually have time to stop in. The…food hall is closer to the library.”
And their instant ramen is a buck twenty-five, so…it’s a win win.
“The food hall is terrible. I don’t even go there for my coffee. We need to expand your horizons, Isla.”
I glance up at him when he says my name. It’s so smooth coming from his lips. So natural. I want to hear it again. I want his fingers in my hair when he says it. His mouth by my ear.
I inhale deep in an effort to settle myself.
Now’s not the time, Isla. For God’s sake, the man is talking about food, not ways he can make you come.
This is a friendly lunch. Don’t make it weird.
“I don’t need to expand my horizon,” I say with a savory mouth full. “This right here is my new horizon and I’m not straying.”
His grin is wide. “I do like a girl who’s loyal.” He looks over my shoulder. “Hey Vinny.”
I pause mid-chew.
“This is Isla, she’s a friend. Put her orders on my tab for the semester.”
“You got it.”
I nearly choke. “Wha—that is not necessary.”
He frowns like I’ve offended him. “Why not? Half the team’s on my tab. And those guys aren’t nearly as pretty as you.”
That’s debatable, I’ve seen their profiles.
“Nor, are they helping me ace Psych 101,” he adds quickly with a wink.
“I don’t guarantee any A’s.”
“That’s okay. I don’t guarantee showing up for every session.”
I frown. “You should be guaranteeing me that. My tutoring sessions aren’t just for you, contrary to what you athletes might think.”
I know my hours haven’t exactly been filling up—but I expect to be very busy now that midterm grades have been posted and everyone’s freaking out.
He chews then flashes me a wink and a grin. “Except for next week.”
My face drops but my stomach flips. “I don’t suppose you left any hours open?”
He laughs like that’s funny. “Nope. You’re all mine.”
The arena is colder than usual. Reminds me of the chill when I snuck in to watch practice two weeks ago. They should really consider raising the temperature a tad when it’s not full at full occupancy.
I tug the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and sink lower into the cold plastic seat, wishing I brought my jacket.
Kane left me somewhere around the middle of the stands with strict instructions to stay put.
Where would I go? I’m kind of on the clock here.
I balance my laptop over jeans and glance around. The arena isn’t empty. A few students are scattered throughout the seats. A guy with a tablet is behind the glass, glancing between the screen and the team. Two girls are in the second row. And an older gentleman is sweeping between rows.
The whistle blows and my attention snaps back to the ice.
The difference between watching from here and watching from the back row on game day is...significant.
For one, the players are bigger. Closer. And the speed is different too. At games, everything sort of blurs, like a wall of bodies and jerseys. Here, I can actually follow each one move for move.
In whatever organized chaos this sport seems to be.
I’m not exactly sure how Psych 101 fits in here, but I’ve been fighting the sinking sensation…that it doesn’t.
And maybe it’s time I stop arguing with the part of my brain that’s known the truth all along.
Yep. Your identity and location has been compromised, Carmen Sandiego.
Abort mission. I repeat, abort.
Do not send love, do not pass go. Do not even think of entertaining this idea that you and Kane could actually be friends. Or anything else.
It’s impossible.
Even if my interactions with him over the last twenty-four hours might prove otherwise.
Before I can reconsider, I stuff my laptop in my bag and push off my seat, gathering my things.
A whistle sounds and Kane points toward one of his teammates, saying something I can’t make out. The teammates immediately change direction. A minute later, Kane scores.
I expect a fist pump, a celebratory growl of sorts. Nothing. Not even a grin. It’s almost like he knew he’d score and it was written on the wall.
“Like to see you have that kind of confidence on the ice, Andrews,” Coach calls.
I frown. He doesn’t?
Kane circles back into the drill line and I just stare, frozen for a second. My feet are trying to remember what they were doing, but my eyes stay glued to him.
He looks at me from the ice and heat climbs into my cheeks as I realize I still look like I’m about to bolt.
Catching my expression, he abandons the drill without a second thought, hopping over the boards and heading straight for me.
Slightly winded, he strips off his helmet but doesn’t ask questions when he reaches me. Not out loud anyway. His eyes, however, do.
“Are you even taking Psych 101?” I keep my voice low but hard, glancing around us only briefly before squaring my gaze with his.
He exhales. “I am. I’m just…”
“Acing it?”
He shrugs. “Solid B, maybe? But that’s my norm.”
I shake my head and squeeze past him out of the aisle, keeping a careful inch of space between us. Then start up the wide steps.
“Isla, wait.”
I turn. “At the risk of sounding like a total hypocrite, do you know how creepy this is?”
He releases a breathy laugh and takes one step up. “I do. And I came today to cancel my session with you.”
I deadpan him, my dry wit making an appearance. “Well you did it wrong. You accidentally signed up for all of next weekend instead,” I stammer. “Maybe you need common sense tutoring…or something.”
Oof Isla, and you were doing so well.
He laughs again and I wait for it to rattle me. But it doesn’t. It’s gentle, not cruel. It settles something in me.
“Andrews!” Coach calls.
He glances back at the ice. “Look, I need to get back out there, but please stay. It’ll be another half hour—tops. I promise. Coach never keeps us long on game days.”
My eyes flick to the side. “And then?”
His jaw works. “And then…I’ll tell you why I had to find you.”
“And violate my privacy? I took screenshots of those terms when I downloaded the app.”
“It wasn’t through the app. And I promise, I’ll never do it again. But this was important.”
I keep my arms crossed. “Thirty minutes.”
He gives me a nod and cocks his head down to the nearest seat, keeping his eyes on me as he does it. An effortless command.
I take one step down, letting myself be towered by him as I keep our eyes locked.
Still, I don’t feel small. There’s a power he’s giving me. And it surges through my veins like a fuse finally catching.
“Miss a goal, and I walk.”
His eyes darken and a slow grin follows. “Deal.”
I watch him hop over the boards, helmet already back in place before his skates hit the ice.
In no time, he falls in line with the others. He’s in full control. Focused. Composed. Like the last five minutes never happened.
How does he do that?
Good thing I brought my Psych 101 notes, because I’m suddenly the one with questions.
Practice lasted a total of two hours, and I can’t believe these guys have a game later on top of it. I can barely lift a dinner fork after an hour gym class.