Page 24 of Cold Front
Eli didn’t say anything, just glanced at me before looking down at his notebook.
I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Tossing out ideas should’ve been easy, but our group had the attention span of a hyperactive puppy. Well, Asher did. Eli kept throwing out photography-related suggestions—campus photo contest, documentary project, a digital showcase—but nothing fit the assignment guidelines.
He also kept his eyes anywhere but on me. Which I deserved. Still, I hated it. Eli was the kind of guy who smiled at everyone, who made conversation seem effortless, and now, because of me, he was treating me like I didn’t exist. The worst part? He seemed to be getting along just fine with everyone else. That thought did something weird to my head, but I shoved it aside before it could take shape. I wouldn’t let it matter.
“I got it!” Asher snapped his fingers. “Pop-up drag show. On the quad. Huge event. We get student groups involved, maybe even a guest performer.”
Eli let out a sharp laugh, then side-eyed Professor Williams, who had paused mid-sip of her coffee. “Uh, I love it, but I feel like that might be… ambitious.”
Asher grinned. “Go big or go home.”
“We’d be going home when Professor Williams kicked us out of class,” Eli shot back.
A snort escaped before I could stop it. Eli glanced at me, startled, like he forgot I could make normal human sounds. His expression smoothed out fast, though, and he went back to ignoring me.
Coach’s words from yesterday’s practice surfaced in my head. The team was running a youth hockey clinic in two weeks. It was already set up. It had structure, an audience, and actual marketing potential.
It was perfect for this assignment.
And I really,reallydidn’t want to suggest it.
The last thing I needed was Eli around hockey. I didn’t need my team knowing I was repeating a class. I didn’t want this to become some weird bonding experience.
But the silence stretched too long, and before I could stop myself, I muttered, “There’s the youth hockey clinic.”
Asher perked up instantly. “Wait, that could actually be good.” He sat up straighter, excitement flickering in his eyes. “A real event, already happening—low effort, high reward. I like it.”
I barely resisted rolling my eyes. This was not a low-effort situation for me.
Eli, on the other hand, looked skeptical. “What exactly is a youth hockey clinic?”
I sighed. “It’s a thing where kids come to the rink, we run them through drills, teach them some skills, try not to lose any of them in the process. It’ll be the weekend after next, mostly for PR, so we have to act like we actually enjoy it.”
Eli arched an eyebrow. “Sounds charming.”
“It’s fine,” I muttered. “Unless you hate kids. Or hockey. Or fun.”
Eli made a thoughtful noise. “Two out of three isn’t bad.”
Asher snorted. “I used to love stuff like that when I played. Maybe I can finally put my old gear to use.”
There was something in his tone—light, but not quite casual—that made Eli glance at him.
I ran a hand through my hair. “So, yeah. We promote the event, put together a campaign, show what goes into it, maybe even get some testimonials from parents or whatever.”
Eli was still fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t really?—”
His gaze flickered to me. I braced for whatever excuse he was about to make, but then something shifted in his expression, like he could see how much I regretted speaking in the first place. His lips twitched, and then?—
“Fine,” he said. “But don’t expect me to touch a hockey stick.”
Asher grinned. “Deal.”
I groaned internally. This was going to be a disaster.
CHAPTER11
