Chapter 4 - Easy enough

Logan

The gum pops in my face. "What's up, Lo?" Cam says as he sits by my side in the lecture hall.

"Sup, Cam. Do you mind not trying to make me blind with your gum?"

He pops it again in my face.

"Nope. So what's your deal? Which school did you transfer from?"

My heart lurches to my throat. "I..."

I swallow hard, pushing the memories to the back of my head. It's fine. Someone was gonna ask sooner or later.

"Pemberton," I say, breathing out heavily.

"Oh, those arrogant-ass violent bitches," Cam snorts, and I flinch.

I was once a part of that team.

He looks to Eli sitting by his side. "Yo, where's Nate? I'm bored. When's this professor gonna come in?"

"Shut up, Cam," Elias deadpans without sparing him a glance.

Then he turns to me. "Hope you don't mind. You can trade seats if you're tired of him."

A tall figure stops at our row. Nate.

He glances at us in the row and moves to the one ahead.

"Hey, we saved a seat for you," Cam almost wails.

Almost at the same time, Dylan sits on the last seat in our row.

"Now it's taken." Cam throws his hands in the air.

"Shut up, Cam. It's me," Dylan replies.

"I know, bitch," Cam snorts.

Everyone keeps telling Cam to shut up. I mean, he's so talkative. What do I care?

My eyes and attention are focused on Nate as he takes a seat directly in front of Elias.

What is even wrong with him? Is he upset because I didn't fuck him?

"Good morning, class."

The professor's voice cuts through the noise of the settling students in the hall.

~

"Hey."

Elias grabs my shoulder.

"Wanna come have lunch with us?"

"No." Nate speaks sharply while walking on the other side of the group.

All of us—me, Dylan, Cam, and Elias—turn to look at him.

"Why is that, Nate?" Elias asks, stone-faced.

"Does he want to eat with us, or are you forcing him to be our friend?" Nate says, his voice flat and bored.

"I'm trying to be nice, Nate. He's new and part of the team," Elias retorts.

"Keep telling yourself that," Nate fires back.

"Guys, it's fine. I have stuff to do. I'm not gonna eat lunch anyway." I interrupt the argument with a lie with a smile on my face.

The last thing I need is to get between him and his friends.

"I'll see you all during practice."

I wave at them and walk the opposite way toward the school gates.

I'm gonna have to talk to him. If he's not okay with making out with a teammate or something like that, then it's fine.

Not like we even knew each other. But this nonsense has to stop.

~

I wedge my helmet between my arm and my side as we all start to file out onto the rink.

"Show me what you've got, kid," the coach says, tapping my back, and I nod at him.

Well, it's time to officially prove myself to the coach and to the team.

The cones are placed in two straight lines on one side of the ice, and on the other side, tires are laid flat but positioned diagonally on the ice. One tire is set so that the opening in the middle faces upward instead of the ice.

The rest of the team huddles by the side of the rink and on the benches.

"You can do this!" Dylan yells, earning laughter and smiles from everyone except the coach, understandably.

And Nate. Not understandably.

I take the puck, slapping it onto the ice, and the whistle goes off.

I weave in and out of the cones without losing touch of the puck.

My stick is glued to it as I weave through the cones and shoot into the goal.

The team erupts in cheers, and the coach only stares.

I do the same to the second line of cones without letting the puck leave my stick.

The coach continues to stare intently as I head to the tires and weave the puck around the large tires efficiently.

Adrenaline bursts through my veins as I shoot the puck through the last tire.

It passes through the hole in the middle and lands at the back of the net.

The others start clapping and whooping.

The coach just writes something down on his notepad.

After taking the cones and tires out, we all flood onto the rink to start practice.

Ice sprays as we zip across the rink, forming mini teams and shooting the puck up and down the ice.

After our water break, we head onto the ice again.

"You're on my team." Cam hangs his arm over my shoulder.

I look to my right, and hanging under Cam's other arm is Nate.

Before I can protest, the coach blows the whistle, and we're zipping across the ice again.

I can feel Nate glaring daggers at my side as I take the puck from him and skate away, scoring in the other team's net.

"Looks like we've got a fast one," Elias says, high-fiving me and Cam.

I turn to leave the rink but slam directly into a hard figure, almost losing my footing.

Nate.

"Watch it," he says, shoving me, his British accent thick and unmistakable.

"What did I do?" All the chatter quiets down as everyone stares at us.

"Keep out of my space." He seethes the words through clenched teeth.

"You're the one who bumped into me." I almost yell, my heart beating rapidly. I'm gonna fucking kill this boy right here.

"Not my fault you can't watch where you're going," he steps too close to me and I shove him, his skates sliding him further back

"You..." He lunges at me, but Elias grabs his arms and pulls him back. "Stay the fuck away from me."

"I'd say that about you too, asshole!" I yell and leave the rink.

Heat burns in my chest as I rip my gear off. Who the fuck does that entitled brat think he is? Talking to anyone however he likes.

Like it's my fault we almost fucked.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Coach walks into the locker room with a scowl, Nate trudging behind him.

"Now, gentlemen. What was that about?" he says after a long silence, glancing between us.

A long, uncomfortable silence stretches between the three of us.

Nate stands slightly behind the coach, peeking at me from under his lashes.

He looks almost remorseful. But his eyes are still cold. Unwavering.

"Nothing," he breaks the silence, lifting his face fully.

Is he daring me? I mean, it's not like I can tell the coach why he's being a dick to me. Because, news flash, I don't even fucking know.

The coach's stare remains fixed on me.

"Nothing, sir."

He looks behind him at Nate and then back at me.

"It better be. I won't tolerate any fighting on my ice. Is that understood?"

We both nod, and he curses something under his breath before storming out of the room.

Nate turns to leave, but I'm speaking before I can stop myself.

"Please wait."

He actually stops. Wow.

But he doesn't turn back. Of course.

Taking a deep breath, I speak. "Look, I don't know why you're upset or why you're hell-bent on treating me like this, and honestly, I wouldn't give a flying fuck."

He balls his hands into fists at that.

But I continue. "I just need to know the problem. Our history together is very unlikely, and it's really just gonna make everything weird. So I just want us to clear the air. Talk things out."

"Talk what out?" he finally spits out, as if someone dragged the words from his lips.

"What happened last Friday."

"Nothing happened last Friday," he continues without turning to face me.

"Then at least treat me like a normal human being. We can be regular, normal teammates. I don't even know why you have your head up your ass about this."

"I have my head up my ass?" He finally turns to face me, and those eyes are again like a cold flame.

His jaw ticks uncontrollably, as if he's trying to rein himself in.

"So what're you gonna do? Hit me? Beat me up because of one night that happened before we even knew each other?"

"Nothing happened that night. Forget about it. It doesn't exist anymore."

This guy is fucking crazy.

"You know what? Fine. If you don't do teammates, that's cool. God knows I would never want to get back in those pants."

His face contorts into an angry scowl, and before he can say anything, I'm already brushing past him without a care in the world.

The last thing I need is someone like him.

Someone like the bullies from Pemberton. He's not worth my time or energy. I need to stay away from him. I have to.

Play like hell.

Study like hell.

And stay away from Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Easy enough.