Page 22 of In the Net
As beautiful as her face is, there’s a look on it that would make me think twice about approaching her if I needed to ask one of the employees here something. Her features look refined and forbidding, and there’s a certain coldness in her dark brown eyes. Her hair is long, black, and curly. She’s short and petite, but there’s something about the way she carries herself that makes her more intimidating than a man as tall as Sebastian with twice the muscle would be.
When she’s finished stocking, she turns so that I’m able to read her nametag: Carmen.
“I think that’s the girl Jamie’s into,” Sebastian says, interest thick in his voice.
“Jamie? Her?” I ask, taken aback. I don’t know Jamie super well, but I know him well enough to know that he’s basically a cuddly stuffed animal in the body of a ripped hockey player.
I don’t think Jamie’s physically capable of even giving someone a nasty look. This girl looks like she’d bite the head off a sweet boy like him.
“I know,” Sebastian says in a voice that sounds like he’s having the exact same thought. He shrugs. “But then again, sometimes, opposites attract.”
He shifts in his chair to turn back to his computer. In the process, his knee brushes against mine under the table.
My thighs clench as a ripple of searing electricity travels from where we touched and blasts a tight, aching sensation through my center.
All I can do is tighten my jaw and focus my eyes intensely on the words on my computer screen, willing my body to calm down as heat simmers low in my belly and I try to fight off a warm blush crawling up my neck.
My body is reacting this intensely because the contact was so unexpected, I tell myself.
I pull in a slow, deep breath through my nose, trying to unknot my chest. Finally, my body temperature goes down, my thigh muscles release, and I start to feel normal.
With another deep breath, I summon the focus I need to get back into writing my essay.
Now that I know Sebastian is my competition, losing isn’t an option.
9
SEBASTIAN
I’m going to Paris. But not alone.
It only took the English department a week after the submission deadline to announce the winner of the competition.
Turns out, there was no winner. Instead, there were twowinners.
I’m one of them.
Harper is the other.
The department intended to send only one Brumehill student to Paris to present at the conference, but after they read all the submissions, the judging committee was deadlocked over which of our two essays should be the winner, mine and Harper’s apparently standing out above our competition.
Then, they got news that one of the presenters at the Paris conference had to pull out, leaving a presentation space open.
So, the English department contacted the conference organizers and got the green light to kill two birds with one stone. Instead of deciding between my essay and Harper’s, they declared us co-winners.
They’re sending us both over to present our papers.
Even when I get the opportunity to fly across the Atlantic freaking Ocean and visit the city I’ve always dreamed of, I can’t escape the company of Harper Brees.
Knowing that I have to share not only a hotel, but also a victory that I wanted for myself, with Harper … well, it sucks, but not enough to dull the thrill of the trip. It’ll be easier to avoid her in a sprawling metropolis than it is here in a tiny college town, at least.
I’m counting down the days between now and the trip like I’m a kid buzzing with excitement the week before Christmas.
I’ll be back from Paris just a few days before our first hockey game of the season. Honestly, I’m more excited about seeing Paris than I am about being back on the ice for the last season of my college career.
Maybe that should concern me.
If nothing else, that’s a sure sign that I was right to talk to Coach and convince him to name Jamie team captain this year. He’s razor-focused right now in a way I’m not.
