Page 3 of College Hockey Bully

“The sports department?” I glance down at the card, then gape.

No. No, no, no.

“Yes. The Wolves need some help in their equipment section,” he replies, now packing up his things.

My heart is pounding so loudly, I swear he’s hearing every beat from his side of the desk. “But I don’t know anything about hockey or the equipment oranything.” The closest I’d come to anything sports-related is taking a sports medicine elective in my second year.

“You don’t need to know anything about hockey. It’s an internship, not a full-time job,” he throws back quickly.

“But Professor—”

His stern expression lashes me. “Miss Pierce, I fail to understand your resistance. What part of mandatory don’t you understand?”

“I do understand, but…” I inch closer to the desk, lowering my voice. “Remember what happened last March.”

His features settle as awareness takes over. With a sigh, he rests the bag down. “I’m sure things have blown over by now. Either way, an hour or two with the team won’t make a difference. They see you every day around campus, don’t they?”

Not they.He.

And no, he doesn’t see me, because I hide whenever I spot that maroon jacket coming.

Which is quite easy, since I’m nowhere close to eye-catching in my worn-out clothes. But there’s no avoiding him when I’m working in his territory for an entire hour or two. It’s been a while since the incident, but I doubt he has forgiven me for what happened.

It’s weird that I’m expecting forgiveness for something I didn’t do.

“It’s your choice. Do the internship or lose those credits. Whatever’s more important, I guess.” Professor shrugs casually, like he didn’t just turn my world upside down. Frozen in place, I gape at his departing form.

“Be careful.” Tabitha’s sudden warning unfreezes me, making me jump. Again, I’m left staring at her back as she goes out. Goosebumps cover my arms and I rub them while exiting the lecture hall. This is all coincidence, nothing more. Tabitha’s crazy ‘premonition’ and my sudden internship with the Wolves aren’t connected. They can’t be.

Then, why are you shaking like this?

Dark clouds form overhead, a stark contrast to the sunshiny weather we’ve been having for weeks now. I hug myself, keep my head down and walk briskly to the bike stand, telling myself there’s nothing ominous about rain clouds. I’m not going to let Tabitha’s words get to me.

Almost at the bike stand, a figure suddenly steps onto the path ahead of me and my heart skips a beat at the sight of that maroon jacket.

Of all the goddamn days.

I glance around me, looking for somewhere to duck and hide, but there’s only the wide lawn on either side of the pathway. I could turn back, but with the clouds getting even darker, any delay might have me soaking wet by the time I ride home.

He’s walking briskly, broad shoulders swinging, firm-looking legs taking long strides away from me. I slow down, waiting for him to get to the crossroad, hoping he takes the right so I can run the other way.

A sudden shrilling brings him to an abrupt halt, just as I feel the first raindrop on my nose. Shit. Another hits my face, much harder this time. He pulls a cell phone from his pocket, glances at it, then puts it right back.

Okay, go on. Go!

He starts jogging, prompted by the incoming rain and I hurry behind him, running close enough to hear his gentle panting—

Too late, I realize I’m breathing hard as a quarter mile runner, probably loud enough to wake the dead. Mid-run, he twists and looks behind him, the sudden action making us collide.

By some miracle, I don’t fall. Until I realize it’s not a miracle at all. His tight grip on my arm keeps me from toppling on the wet concrete and this feels horribly like déjà vu.

Well… I wouldn’t quite sayhorribly.

We stand frozen for a moment as the heavy rainfall pelts us. In this moment, he’s not the Wolves’ captain. He’s not the leader of the team that hates my guts. He’s not my number one enemy, the adversary I didn’t ask for.

He’s just a head-to-toe gorgeous hunk of a man, the guy who gave me butterflies that first day in Calculus III.

Thick, dark hair, some plastered to his forehead by the pounding rain. Peridot-green eyes that are swimming with concern, for some reason. A strong jawline coated with a six o’clock shadow that strangely makes me want to see a full beard on him. A beautiful asshole. Such a pity.

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