Chapter 2

By the time my morning lectures finally came to an end, my stomach was practically eating itself. I'd skipped breakfast in my rush to get across campus after the coffee disaster in the sport wing, and the only thing keeping me going was the Tupperware container sitting at the bottom of my bag. My mom had made her signature garlic-butter chicken and roasted vegetables that morning before I left home, packed everything neatly into my favorite container, and even slipped in a little sticky note that said, Study hard, my girl. Love you. At that point, that container wasn't just lunch anymore. It was the only thing standing between me and starvation.

I clutched my bag like it contained something precious and headed straight for the main student canteen. The moment I pushed through the double doors, I was hit by a wave of noise and the heavy smell of French fries, grilled paninis, and whatever else people had decided to eat for lunch. I looked around for an empty table, but every single one seemed to be taken. Students were squeezed into booths, sitting shoulder to shoulder, occupying the arms of chairs, and balancing trays on their laps.

Then I spotted one in the far back corner.

It was a large, circular booth beneath a row of modern pendant lights, and unlike the battered wooden tables scattered around the canteen, the leather seats looked clean and comfortable. Most importantly, the entire thing was empty. Not one person was sitting there.

Bless whoever decided to leave this one open.

I was far too hungry and exhausted to question my luck, so I hurried across the floor, slid into the curved booth, and unzipped my tote bag. I pulled out my Tupperware, popped open the lid, and immediately smiled when the warm smell of my mom's cooking reached me. I picked up my plastic fork, speared a piece of chicken, and took a bite.

Heaven.

I was halfway through chewing when I realized something was wrong.

The noise around me had changed.

It didn't disappear all at once. The tables closest to me slowly became quieter, then the conversations farther away started dying down until, within a few seconds, the entire canteen had gone strangely silent.

I lowered my fork and looked around.

Every pair of eyes seemed to be on me.

Students were staring over their trays, whispering behind their hands, and exchanging looks that made absolutely no sense to me. A few of them looked almost frightened.

I swallowed and touched my cheek, then my forehead. "Is there something on my face?" I called to a group of sophomore girls sitting at the table beside me. "Do I have a giant piece of chicken stuck to my nose?"

Nobody answered.

Instead, they seemed to shrink farther into their seats.

Weirdos.

I rolled my eyes, picked up my fork again, and decided to ignore them. Whatever strange social rule I'd apparently broken, I didn't have the energy to figure it out. I had lunch to finish before my afternoon seminar.

"You've got a lot of nerve sitting there, freshie."

I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth.

A blonde girl with heavy designer makeup stood at the edge of the booth, holding a tray with a salad that looked like something she had bought for appearances rather than because she intended to eat it. She was staring down at me as though I'd personally offended her.

"Excuse me?" I asked, taking another bite.

"Get up," she said. "Now. Before you find yourself in serious trouble."

I chewed slowly, swallowed, and wiped my mouth with a napkin. "Trouble? For sitting at an empty table and eating my lunch? Is there a bomb under the cushion, or did the university start charging rent for the chairs?"

Her expression tightened.

"That's not just a table," she whispered, stepping closer. "That's their booth. Ryder Cole and the rest of the hockey team sit here. Nobody else does. Ever. If you're still sitting there when they walk in, you won't last a week on this campus."

I stared at her for a moment before letting out a short laugh.

"So?"

I set my fork down inside the Tupperware and leaned back against the leather seat. "Ryder Cole and his little fan club don't own the student union. If the university wanted to reserve private booths for varsity athletes, they should've put up a velvet rope. Last time I checked, we're all paying tuition to study here, not to worship guys who chase a rubber disk around a frozen pond."

The girl's eyes widened.

She looked over my shoulder, then back at me. Her expression changed completely, and she started blinking at me while subtly pointing toward something behind me.

I frowned. "What is wrong with your eyes? Do you have something stuck in your cornea? Do you need eye drops?"

"She's fine," a deep voice said from directly behind me. "Though she probably has better survival instincts than you do."

Ice seemed to run through my veins.

I froze with my hand hovering over my food.

That voice.

I knew that voice.

A familiar scent of sandalwood and something warm and masculine drifted over my shoulder, and I slowly turned my head.

Ryder Cole stood beside the booth.

He had changed out of the coffee-stained jersey from that morning and was now wearing a fitted black T-shirt that stretched across his chest and arms. His dark hair was slightly messy, and there was a faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. His hazel eyes were fixed on me, and there was something almost amused in them.

How does this guy keep appearing out of nowhere?

"You..." I started, but quickly forced myself to stop sounding surprised. I picked up my fork again and looked back at my food. "Do you mind? You're blocking my light."

Ryder didn't move.

Instead, he placed one large hand on the back of the booth and leaned toward me until his face was much closer than it needed to be.

"You really have a habit of picking the wrong places, Ava," he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear him. "First my private office, now my table. Are you sure you aren't trying to get my attention?"

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

I took another bite of chicken, chewing slowly before swallowing and looking him directly in the eye.

"You flatter yourself, Cole. I came here for food, not an ego trip. There wasn't a single empty seat in this entire cafeteria, and your little shrine was the only place available. If you want it that badly, you can have the other half."

A murmur moved through the surrounding tables.

Someone actually gasped.

I couldn't understand why everyone was acting as though I'd just insulted the university president.

Ryder, however, didn't look angry. The corner of his mouth lifted into a slow grin as he repeated, "My shrine?"

He seemed to find the word amusing.

"Is that what you call it? Or are you just looking for an excuse to sit closer to me?"

"I am looking for an excuse to finish my lunch in peace," I snapped, reaching for my water bottle. "Which would be a lot easier if you and your oversized ego weren't standing—"

I took a quick drink.

At that exact moment, Ryder shifted closer.

His chest moved just enough to make me aware of how little space was actually between us, and his eyes dropped briefly to my lips before returning to mine.

The sheer audacity of him caught me off guard.

I choked.

The water went down the wrong way, and before I could turn my head or swallow properly, it burst straight out of my mouth and sprayed across Ryder's face and chest.

I froze.

The entire canteen went silent.

Water dripped from his jaw and clung to his eyelashes while his black T-shirt darkened where the water had soaked into it. I stared at him in horror, my water bottle still raised in my hand.

For one terrible second, I expected him to lose his temper.

Instead, Ryder slowly lifted one hand and wiped the water from his cheek with his thumb. He glanced down at his wet shirt, then looked back at me.

His expression was unreadable.

"Nice shot, sweetheart," he said quietly. "Though usually, girls buy me a drink before spitting it at me."

My face went hot.

"I didn't spit it at you, you arrogant jerk!"

I slammed the water bottle onto the table and stood so quickly that my knees hit the edge of the booth. I grabbed my tote bag and swung it over my shoulder, nearly knocking into a chair beside me.

"You invaded my personal space while I was trying to eat! If you didn't want a mouthful of water in your face, you shouldn't have been hovering over me like a creepy vulture."

Ryder didn't even flinch.

He simply watched me, completely unfazed by my anger.

The girls around us looked like they were watching someone walk willingly into a lion's den.

"You've got a sharp tongue, Ava," Ryder said, stepping closer instead of backing away. "Most girls on this campus would be shaking right now."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not most girls."

I lifted my chin and stared straight into his annoyingly handsome face.

"And for the record, you're not even that impressive up close. I've seen far more handsome men in my life who actually have manners, brains, and a personality that doesn't revolve around a hockey stick. So do us both a favor and lose my number."

His smirk disappeared.

For the first time since I'd met him, Ryder actually looked surprised.

Something darker flickered across his face, and I couldn't tell whether I'd finally managed to annoy him or simply caught him off guard. Either way, I didn't wait around to find out.

I pushed past him and walked out of the canteen with my head held high, even though my heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat.

I am so dead.

That little voice inside my head was already panicking.