Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Hey, Larsa. Stopping in for a coffee?”
Her gaze flicks to Ava before she dismisses her without any acknowledgment. “If you’re not busy, I was thinking we could hang out at my place for a while. My professor just canceled class for the afternoon.” She flashes a knowing smile. “I’m sure we could figure out something to occupy ourselves with.”
I nod toward Ava. “Sorry, I’m a little busy at the moment.”
Larsa’s brows slant together. “Oh?”
“Yeah, Ava and I are having coffee.”
She drops down on the chair situated across from us. When she crosses one long leg over the other, the short corduroy skirt she’s wearing slides higher up her thigh. “I can wait.”
“Sorry, Larsa. We’re hanging out.”
Her face scrunches. “Together?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
The petite figure skater shakes her head. “We’re not together.”
I slip my hand around hers and give her fingers a squeeze. “We’re definitely together.”
Larsa takes a closer look at the girl sitting next to me. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you Coach Philips’s daughter?”
“Yup, I am.”
Speculation brews in Larsa’s eyes. “Interesting. Is she tutoring you or something?”
“No, she’s not.” With my hand locked around Ava’s, I rise to my feet, bringing her up with me. “If you’ll excuse us, we were just about to head out.”
“What about my coffee?” Ava asks.
“Leave it behind,” I mutter. “We’ll get you another one later. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
We’re halfway to the door when a tall, lanky guy steps in front of us. “Hayes! That was an awesome hat trick you scored against the Titans.”
“Thanks.”
When he launches into my stats, I give Ava a bit of side-eye. I don’t need to know her well to realize she’s seconds away from leaving me behind in her dust. I have one chance to change her impression of me, and we’re only fifteen minutes into this date, and I’m already blowing it.
“I appreciate your support, but I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
He glances at Ava, as if seeing her for the first time.
What the hell is wrong with people around here?
“Oh.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “Thanks for your understanding.”
“Sure thing, Van Doren!”
With that, I hustle her ass out the door. It’s only when it closes behind us with a resounding thud and the small group doesn’t follow us out, that I breathe a sigh of relief. Under normal circumstances, I don’t mind shooting the shit and talking hockey with the fans, but that’s the last thing I want to do when I’m with this girl.
Before she can come up with a reason to bolt, I blurt, “Can I take you somewhere, Tink?”
16
Ava
Absolutely not.
That’s exactly what I should have said.
It’s what any smart girl would’ve said, especially one who’s still piecing herself back together.
“I guess.”
The response slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it, and now, here I am, walking beside Hayes Van Doren, hand in hand, completely unsure how I got myself into this.
What is it about this guy that makes me deviate from every instinct I’ve built over the past year? Hayes is everything I should avoid—a major player on campus, someone who probably views relationships like a game with easy rules and no attachments.
That’s never been my type.
Then again, what is my type?
It’s not like I have much experience to go on.
Nathan didn’t leave much room for learning that on my own.
I shove that thought down before it can tank my mood.
Hayes’s grip on my hand tightens as he flashes a boyish grin, the kind that should set off alarm bells in my brain. Instead, my stomach does that stupid swooping thing like I’m on a roller coaster about to plunge over the steepest drop.
I glance around as we walk across campus, noticing how people stare. Some wave and call out his name, others throw lingering looks his way. And he just takes it in stride, as if none of it fazes him.
“It’s like you’re a celebrity,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.
“You think so?” He shrugs. “I don’t really notice it anymore.”
That remark catches me off guard. I was expecting him to bask in the attention, to maybe even thrive on it.
But he’s indifferent.
“How can you not notice?” I ask, honestly curious. “People act like they’re waiting for their chance to get your autograph.”
He slows his pace a bit, like he’s mulling that over. “It’s been like this since high school. Our old college coach recruited me early on, and once that happened, the attention just kind of followed.” He gives me a sidelong look. “But it’s never been about that for me. After Dad passed away, I knew hockey was my way to take care of my family. That’s what I focus on. The rest? It’s just noise.”
That’s not the answer I was expecting.
My defenses, the ones I’ve carefully held in place since Nathan, reluctantly shift. Even if it’s slightly.