Page 52 of The Dating Coach
"You can't promise that," I whispered.
"No," he agreed. "But I can promise to be here when hard things happen. To help you face them instead of you managing everything alone."
His words landed somewhere deep. I met his eyes, and for a second the air between us felt too heavy, too charged.
Then I stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
It wasn’t planned or dramatic—just a quiet, certain moment. He didn’t hesitate, kissing me back with a mix of surprise and something steadier, something patient.
Neither of us noticed the student walking by until they called, “Get a room!”
We broke apart, laughing, both a little breathless.
"We should probably get back," I said, still smiling.
"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
We kept walking—shoulders still close, steps a little more in sync. Whatever this relationship was becoming, it felt comfortable and easy.
But as we turned the corner, I spotted a familiar figure under the streetlight. Dr. Hartley stood there with his wife, clearly out for an evening walk. There was no avoiding them – we were on a collision course for awkward small talk.
"Gemma!" Dr. Hartley called out, his face warming with genuine pleasure. "What a lovely surprise."
"Professor," I managed, very aware of how close Liam and I had been walking. "Hi. Um, this is—"
"Liam Delacroix," Dr. Hartley finished, surprising me. "Your boyfriend. You mentioned him during office hours." He turned to Liam with an appraising look. "The hockey player who tutored her in chemistry."
I opened my mouth to correct him, but Liam stepped smoothly into the assumption. "That's me," he confirmed, shaking his hand. "Though I think Gemma would have figured it out regardless. She's brilliant."
"Indeed she is," Dr. Hartley agreed. "That makeup exam was one of the best I've seen in years. Whatever study methods you two developed clearly worked."
"We found what motivated her," Liam said, his eyes finding mine with a knowing look.
"Well, don't let us keep you," Mrs. Hartley said with a knowing smile. "Enjoy your evening."
As they walked away, I heard her say quietly, "They're lovely together, aren't they?"
"It rather reminds me of us at that age," Dr. Hartley replied. "Though I don't recall you needing chemistry tutoring."
"No," she laughed. "But you did help me with poetry analysis. Remember? All those late nights in the library..."
Their voices faded, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Great. Now my chemistry professor thinks we’ve been dating this whole time.”
Liam laughed. “To be fair, we didn’t exactly correct him.”
Chapter 24: Liam
The hit came from my blind side in the third period, Kowalski's shoulder driving into my ribs with enough force to send me sprawling across the ice. Stars exploded across my vision as I hit the boards, the crowd's roar becoming a distant buzz. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond the searing pain radiating from my left side.
"Dirty fucking hit," Tyler spat as I finally made it to the bench, each movement sending fresh waves of agony through my torso. "Refs didn't even call it."
"They haven't called anything all night," I managed through gritted teeth, trying not to show how much it hurt to simply exist.
The scoreboard glared down at us: Michigan State 2, Pinewood 2. Five minutes left in a game that could determine our playoff positioning. Through the haze of pain, I could see the scouts in their usual section – Providence, Detroit, Colorado – all taking notes, all judging every shift, every play, every moment of weakness.
My father sat among them like a king holding court, his disapproval radiating across the arena. He'd made his feelings about my "distractions" clear in his latest email, a masterpiece of passive-aggressive disappointment about my "lack of focus" and "misplaced priorities."
