Page 11 of Ricochet

I already felt weak, and he only made me feel weaker.

Now I can add arrogant to the list of reasons to hate him.

The professor comes in, effectively cutting off our conversation—if you could call it that. The room falls quiet as she spends the first fifteen minutes on the syllabus. When she jumps into the first chapter on surface anatomy, Stone’s laptop screen shows a nude drawing of a male figure.

He glances at me and fucking winks.

My jaw ticks as I bow my head and start scribbling down notes.

I was really looking forward to this year between hockey and my interactive design class. Stone just had to come swooping in to make it hell on earth instead. Not only am I going to have to sit through this class with him three times a week, but we’ll probably have the biweekly lab together as well.

If he tries to partner up with me during that, I swear to God I’ll slit my own throat.

The past has a way of clinging to you like a shadow.

Those shadows made me feel weak.

Stone saw that weakness. Fed on it.

With his unwelcome return into my life, I fear he may join the darkest part of those shadows.

And it would seem I’ll never fucking escape him.

Here’s the thing. I’m reallynot an asshole. I swear.

But Icanbe.

There’s a difference.

I can be an asshole to people who deserve it. I can be an asshole to people who are a dick to me first. It’s called matching energy, and I’m pretty good at that. Sure, there are plenty of times when I shouldn’t or when the person isn’t even worth the trouble.

When it comes to Callum?

Idefinitelyshouldn’t.

Considering we’re on the same team and the crime I committed against him—forhim?—I really should be trying to alleviate the tension between us. To be honest, I don’t know for certain who gave Callum all those bruises and scars, but it’s a pretty good fucking guess when taking into account the other information I was given.

Still, I can’t let him find out the truth.

Not when my secrets aren’t only mine to keep.

Not when they’re bigger than me.

But there’s something about him that just makes me want to fight back, fight ice with fire.

Which is exactly why I sat next to him in class today. He’ll get over a stupid ass high school scrimmage game or he’ll get to deal with me making his blood boil both on and off the ice for the next year.

I have to admit watching him squirm was more fun than I expected it’d be.

That’ll have to be the highlight of my day I take with me into practice since I wasn’t able to show up early. My nutritional biochemistry class ran late, so I’m missing out on my solo time on the ice. I really hope the professor doesn’t make a habit of that. I don’t mind walking out of class when it’s supposed to be over even if the teacher isn’t showing any signs of dismissing us, but I also don’t want to risk missing important information.

Standing in front of my station as the rest of the team filters into the locker room, I change into my base layer before pulling down my protective gear.

Callum shows up, ignoring me as he throws down his bag and starts stripping out of his shirt and jeans. I barely resist the urge to turn and look at him. I had to stop myself from doing that in the showers yesterday too.

It’s only curiosity. I haven’t forgotten the map of brutal marks left on his body. I wonder how many of them are still there.

While part of me has enjoyed our verbal sparring, I know where to draw the line.

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