Novels by Lorelai Ao

"EARTH TO THOMAS." Scott snapped his fingers from where he stood breaking me out of the spell his body had put on me. "I'm sorry, I—um—the door was open—I should've knocked," I stammered, messing up my words. "You're late, Thomas," he said flatly, totally uninterested in random babbling. He turned his back to me. He reached behind his shoulder to apply the cream onto a massive, purple bruise. He let out a sharp hiss through his teeth, wincing because he missed the spot completely. Frustrated, he tossed the plastic on the desk and grabbed a shirt laying on the chair. "Don't put that on yet," I said before I could even stop myself. Scott paused, holding the shirt halfway down his chest. He raised an eyebrow, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Excuse me?" "You can't even reach it," I pointed out, trying hard to look at his face instead of his torso. "If you don't apply the cream, your muscle will lock up during tomorrow's game. As your manager, I need you ready to play." I stepped

CHASE "TELL ME YOUR LAPTOP SCREEN IS LYING TO US" Bree muttered, leaning so close over my shoulder that her hair brushed my cheek. We were both staring intensely at the glowing monitor in our room. There it was, blinking in black and white on the university's official academic portal: *Tutee: Scott Isaac Lawrence. Tutor: Chase Barbara Thomas.* "It’s not lying," I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. "Reject it. Click the decline button right now," Bree ordered, crossing her arms defensively. "The guy completely hates you for no reason. Plus, I heard some of the girls talking—they say he's kind of a cheapskate. He’s on a strict scholarship, but aren't college hockey stars basically rolling in money and NIL deals? Aren't they like super rich?" I shook my head, staring at Scott's stark profile picture on the portal. "Not all of them are. It might look super glamorous from the outside, Bree, but trust me, they aren't all swimming in cash. He might not have it all." Bree snorted,

SCOTTI NEEDED THAT COFFEE JUST TO STAY ALIVE. My muscles were aching from the intense drill sessions, and a heavy glaze of exhaustion weighed down my eyelids. Still, morning practice was easily the best time to be on the ice. The air was crisp, the rink was quiet, and everything felt completely under my control.But that peace shattered the moment I skated back toward the team bench.The guys were crowded in a tight circle, knocking their sticks against the ice and chirping happily. I frowned, feeling a sudden prick of irritation. Who could possibly be making them this soft before the season even started?I glided closer, my skates slicing smoothly through the ice. Then, I saw them. Those eyes.A cold shock hit me straight in the chest, stealing the air right out of my lungs. My heart hammered against my ribs as recognition washed over me, mixed with a deep, immediate wave of resentment.It was Thomas.She walked right up to the edge of the rink, and for a split second, my brain com

THE ENTIRE RINK WENT DEAD SILENT AS SCOTT TURNED HIS BACK AND SKATED AWAY. Coach’s face flushed a deep, furious red. He slammed his clipboard against the plexiglass wall, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "Lawrence! What the hell was that!" The moment the captain ignored him, the rink erupted into total noise. The team's chirpy, welcoming energy vanished, replaced by sheer chaos. Some of the boys looked at me in complete confusion, their jaws wide open. Others quickly skated off to follow Scott, screaming over each other, trying to demand answers for what he had just done. Before I could even process the cold liquid dripping down my forehead, Bree ran up to me. Her eyes were wide with panic as she grabbed my arm and guided me out of the freezing arena. "Oh my God, Chase, what the hell was that? Why did he do that?" she asked, her voice shaking as we hurried down the hallway. My mind was completely numb. The sticky coffee was still dripping from my face, ruining the collar of m

CHASETHE CRISP, FREEZING AIR OF THE ICE ARENA BIT AT MY CHEEKS, BUT I COULDN'T STOP SMILING. For the first time in two years, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.After walking away from my father—cutting ties completely because of the toxic, manipulative person he was—this assistant management position was my fresh start. I hadn’t used his name or his connections to get it. I had transferred schools, submitted my own scouting notes, and earned this entirely on my own merit."I still can’t believe you actually got the job," Bree said, panting slightly as we rushed down the corridor toward the main rink.Bree Troisi was my roommate and the absolute best friend a girl could ask for. She was the one who had practically engineered my transfer to this university, helping me navigate the endless paperwork and housing forms."Best believe it," I beamed, adjusting the strap of my duffel bag. "The athletic board approved my strategy sheets last week. I am officially a part of the tea