008

Dona’s POV

By the time I stepped into campus, the whispers had already started. I could feel them brushing against my ears, floating just out of reach, but clear enough that I knew what it was about.

August. Me. Us pulling up together.

I hated it.

“Donaaa!” came a female's voice from behind me. I turned around and saw a girl named Kimberly. She popped up right in front of me, too close, clutching her binder like she couldn’t wait to spill something stupid.

“Sooo, tell me, what’s it like riding with August?”

I frowned at her, deadpan. “It’s like riding in a car. Shocking, right?”

But she only grinned wider. “No, come on. Everyone saw you two. You didn’t look miserable. So, is he, like… your boyfriend or something?”

I almost gagged. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, or at least, are you guys talking? Because people don’t just carpool with August. He doesn’t even give rides to his own teammates half the time. But you…” She studied me like I was suddenly exotic. “You must be special.”

I slammed my books on the desk beside me. “There’s nothing to talk about, Kimberly. He gave me a ride. That’s it. Don’t make it into some cheesy romcom scene.”

Her face twisted like she wanted to keep poking, but she finally held up her hands. “Okay, okay. Just saying, people are gonna be curious.” She dragged out the word “curious” before skipping off like she had delivered life-changing news.

I slumped into my chair, pressing my palms against my temples. Curious. Right. More like nosy parasites.

By lunch, the whispers had turned even sharper. I passed by the courtyard where half the hockey team sat, sprawled out and laughing too loudly. I wasn’t even trying to eavesdrop, but they weren’t exactly subtle.

“Yo, did you see him roll up with her this morning?” one of the guys snorted.

“Yeah, August with a passenger. I didn’t know the king had a chauffeur gig now.”

More laughter, loud enough to turn heads.

“Nah, she’s like his little shadow. You know, tagalong. Kinda cute, though, in a clingy puppy way.”

An embarrassed blush heated my face. I froze mid-step, debating whether to turn around and slap the smugness off their faces, but I kept walking instead.

The worst part was that I knew my crappy stepbrother had heard some of this crap during the day. He always heard everything. And instead of shutting it down, he probably sat back with that amused look, letting them tear into me like I was an inside joke.

By the time my final lecture for the day ended, my energy was shot. I wanted to crawl home, crawl into bed and not hear August’s name for at least a year. But when I checked my phone and saw texts from my mother, I groaned again.

MOM: Don’t forget to ride back with August.

MOM: No Uber. Waste of money.

MOM: And you’re not taking the bus at night. It is too dangerous.

I typed back fast, my thumb stabbing the screen.

ME: I can handle the bus, mom. I'm a college student. Stop worrying!

MOM: No. Wait for him.

ME: Mom, seriously. He doesn’t even want me there.

MOM: I don’t care what he wants. He’s responsible. End of story.

I groaned out loud, shoving my phone into my bag. Responsible. Yeah, sure. If responsible meant lighting up cigarettes in a car like it was a personal chimney and pretending the music could drown out human interaction.

I dragged my feet toward the parking lot, ignoring even more whispers. The idea of sliding back into that suffocating passenger seat made my skin itch. Silent ride number two, with him probably enjoying the fact that my entire day had been ruined by his stupid presence.

I wanted to scream.

********

I’d been sitting on the curb by his car for what felt like forever. My laptop bag was digging into my shoulder, and I desperately needed a drink of water. Thirty whole minutes. I could have walked halfway home by now, even under this Florida sun.

When August finally strolled up with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, I jumped to my feet.

“Are you serious right now?” I snapped. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?”

He raised an eyebrow, unlocking the car with a lazy press of the fob. “Relax, it’s just half an hour.”

“Half an—” My jaw dropped. “You left me standing here like an idiot while you did… what, exactly? Flirt with your hockey buddies?”

He tossed his bag in the backseat, then leaned against the car door. “I’m sorry, alright?”

I froze mid-rant. My brain short-circuited. “Wait. Did you just say sorry?”

He shrugged, sliding into the driver’s seat like it was nothing. “Don’t make it weird.”

I stood there for a second, staring at him and trying to process. August apologizing was about as rare as snow in Florida. Finally, I huffed and yanked the passenger door open. “Unbelievable.”

The engine roared to life, and I was already buckling up when he casually dropped the bomb. “Oh, we gotta stop by the rink before heading home.”

Ah ha. There it was. I knew he apologised because he wanted to get something from me.

I whipped my head toward him. “Excuse me? No, absolutely not. Take me home.”

“Not happening.” He turned onto the road with one hand on the wheel. “Your mom said you’re in my care, so that means you go where I go.”

I laughed bitterly. “Oh please. She meant you should drive me home safely, not drag me to whatever sweaty ice dungeon you feel like hanging out in. I'll miss hours of study!”

“You can study there,” he said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

I threw my hands up. “Study at a hockey rink? Yeah, that sounds productive. Nothing says quiet focus like dudes smashing into each other on ice.”

He smirked and gave me a look. “Then bring earplugs. Problem solved.”

“You’re enjoying this. You’re actually enjoying ruining my day.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but I could see the corner of his eyes crinkle. “Maybe a little.”

“Unbelievable. I could just Uber home, you know.”

“Nope.” His voice was final, clipped. “Mom said no Uber, remember? So you’re stuck.”

I clenched my arms across my chest. “You can’t just hijack my entire evening. I have stuff to do.”

“This is my car,” he shot back smoothly. “Which means we go wherever the fuck I want.”

I stared at him, stunned, then let out a frustrated groan. “You are literally the worst.”

He didn’t argue. He just kept driving, quiet but smug in his silence.

I grumbled the entire way there, and by the time we pulled up to the rink, my nerves were on high. I slammed the car door so hard when I got out that two guys standing nearby turned their heads.

The second we stepped inside, I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh. This place smells like socks that died.”

August tossed me a disgruntled glance over his shoulder. “Get used to it. It’s the smell of hard work.”

“More like the smell of bacteria,” I muttered, hugging my arms around myself as the chill hit my skin.

But then something weird happened. The second August walked onto the ice, it was like the whole arena shifted. Guys slapped their sticks on the boards in greeting, a couple fans in the bleachers whispered his name, and the coach actually gave him a nod like he belonged here already. It had only been weeks since he transferred!

One of the players clapped him on the shoulder. “Yo, Reynolds! Are you ready to save our asses again?”

“Always,” August answered and chuckled.

I caught myself staring. The way he moved like he'd been here forever, was the same way he’d caught my attention weeks ago, before I ever found out he was my so-called stepbrother. I hated that part of me still remembered it.

I shook myself out of it and dropped into a seat far up in the bleachers. If I stayed in the corner, maybe nobody would notice me. I opened my bag and pulled out my notes, pretending to study.

Of course, my peace didn’t last.

“Why are you all the way up there?” August’s voice carried across the empty section, making my head snap up. He skated over to the edge, helmet tucked under his arm and his eyes locked on me.

“I like it here.” I said flatly. "Now, go and beat your teammates with your stick or something."

He grinned annoyingly, before jerking his chin toward the front row. “Nah. Come sit closer. Family privilege, remember?”

I glanced up. “What? No. I’m fine.”

“Not asking!” With his ice hockey skates, he clambered up the bleachers, then grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet.

"AUGUST!"

"Come on!" He bellowed and continued to pull me down the bleachers, to the very first row of seats. There was no logical reason why he would want to change my seat; August Reynolds was merely doing this to piss me the hell off, and I knew it. I could hear his teammates already whispering again.

“Who’s she?”

“She came in with Reynolds.”

“Must be his girl. Damn, already?”

I kept my head down, cheeks burning. When I reached the front row, August let go of my arm. “There you go. Better view.”

“More like a better view of people staring at me,” I hissed under my breath.

“Relax,” he pushing off to rejoin practice. “They’ll get used to you.”

I crossed my arms, sinking into the seat. Easy for him to say. He was the star out there. I was just the random girl everyone suddenly thought they had to figure out.