Page 10 of Ricochet

But I made the mistake of letting our captain see that. I’m usually better at hiding things. Stone caught me off guard, that’s all. I’ll make sure my mask is more firmly in place when it comes time for practice.

“I’ll leave it off the ice. I swear.”

“You sure? Do I need to let you both out in the rink at different times so you can get used to each other’s scents?”

I raise a brow. “Like cats?”

He shrugs. “We had to do that when we brought home a new one. Our other cathatedhim for like the first week. Had to let them take turns being let out of the bathroom.”

Shaking my head, I start taking steps backward toward the door. “I’ll be good. You don’t have to lock me in the bathroom.”

He laughs and nods. “Good. See you at practice.”

As Nate walks off, I enter the science building and find the classroom easily enough on the first floor—a large lecture hall since this is only the lecture part of the course. I step inside and seeAnatomy and Physiology IIon the projector. Heading down the aisle, I choose a seat in one of the middle rows on the left side of the room.

I fully expected to be late, but the room is currently only half full.

Settling in, I pull out my textbook along with my sketch pad. I flip open the latter, retrieve a pencil from one of the smaller pockets of my bag, and start to mindlessly run it over the blank page. I end up with a doodle of a hockey stick, feverishly adding line after line for the tape until it’s shaded in instead.

Art and hockey have always been my safe spaces, my escapes from the dark shadows of my past.

Charcoal scratching over paper.

Blades carving the ice.

It’s creation and power. Freedom and control.

Finally, I’m feeling a little more levelheaded than I have since the gym this morning.

Then someone drops into the seat next to me, causing me to look up.

“Of fucking course,” I mutter as I slam my sketch pad closed.

Not even sketching is going to be able to distract me from Stone’s unnerving presence.

“Nice to see you too, teammate.”

Leaning back in my seat, I scowl at his side profile as he sets a laptop on his small desk. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you have already taken this class?”

“I’m getting my master’s in kinesiology,” he says as he opens his laptop and turns it on. “I’m taking this as a refresher course. Don’t worry.” He turns to look at me with a smirk playing at his lips. “I’m not stalking you, Hayes.”

“Oh yeah? There are at least two dozen empty seats in this room. Why the fuck do you have to sit here?”

“Because you couldn’t stop looking at me in the gym this morning. Figured I’d make it easier on you so you don’t have to strain your pretty eyes glaring at me from across the room.”

I scoff, deciding not to point out that he was staring at me just as much because then it’d only confirm I was looking at him too.

Exchanging my sketch pad for my notebook, I set it on the desk beside my textbook. Meanwhile, Stone pulls up his digital one, split-screening it to take notes in a blank document beside it.

“It’s not my fault you have such a punchable face. It’s like a train wreck. Just can’t look away.”

He laughs easily, like my insult just rolled right off him.

It probably did because he’s arrogant enough to know it’s not true. He’s clean-shaven, showing off a sharp jawline. His inky black hair contrasts with his ivory skin. Even I can admit his pale gray-green eyes are mesmerizing. Rain-washed. Like white sage or a forest in the fog.

None of that changes how I feel about him.

Logically, I know him seeing me that day in the locker room wasn’thisfault. But the way he looked at me was. And at least half of the way I felt afterward was his fault too.

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