CHAPTER 4

Camille's POV

Julian walked into the training pitch with a lady beside him.

I hadn’t seen her before nor around him. Not once had he ever introduced me to her as a friend. Which meant she was either one of his girls or the new one.

Whichever she was, I didn’t bother too much about it.

Better to be alone than bound to such a cheapskate, I whispered to myself.

“Are you sure any coach is coming?” Thea suddenly asked the cheerleading squad.

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the ice rink, my chest tight as I waited, hoping and praying that Mr Ashford would choose the positive side of my gamble.

“We’ve been standing here for over thirty minutes,” one of the girls complained loudly. “The players haven’t even started practicing. Why are we even here if nothing is happening?”

“And how are we even sure we have a new coach?” another added sharply. “Thanks to someone’s father, another coach resigned when the team needed him the most.”

Her eyes rolled pointedly in my direction.

“It always happens whenever the team needs them the most,” someone else chimed in.

Each word felt like a blade.

Thea leaned toward me, clearly about to ask if I had actually done what she told me to. I could tell by the way she tilted her head closer but before she could speak, a voice cut through the noise.

Every head snapped up at once.

“Why haven’t you begun preparing?”

The entire rink fell silent.

“What are you all waiting for?” the voice continued. “Is this how you plan to win the upcoming tournament? Standing around like pigs too overweight to move?”

The authority in that voice was unmistakable.

Before I even lifted my head, I knew that it was Mr. Ashford.

A cold wave of relief washed over my chest as I finally looked up and saw him walking into the ice. The players scrambled instantly, taking their positions without question.

Even Julian moved.

He tossed his shirt toward the lady who had followed him. She shrieked loudly, kissing the damp fabric and waving it over her head like a trophy.

What was so special about it? I thought bitterly.

It wasn’t even dry. Julian had been sweating, there was no doubt it would reek.

Behind me, the noise suddenly exploded into screams, cheers and whistles.

The cheerleaders had noticed Mr. Ashford pulling off his shirt to change into a casual one, the kind required for a coach on the rink. His movements were effortless and unbothered by the attention he was drawing.

Even Thea screamed along with them.

She didn’t even look my way. Didn’t ask how I’d managed to convince him.

I stood there silently, watching as Mr. Ashford stepped fully into his role, commanding the rink with nothing but his presence.

His muscles were obvious even beneath the casual clothes he wore, and I sensed that some of the players had stopped just to stare at him too. Given how the ladies were screaming for him as if they had never seen a man before, I wondered what was so special about him or why they were reacting that way.

He hadn’t even done anything to stop them.

Instead, he kept adjusting his shirt, almost as if he were showing off his muscles even more.

That annoyed me more than I wanted to admit.

First, because I had no reason to feel that way. It wasn’t as if Mr. Ashford was my favorite teacher. I told myself that. Perhaps it was Julian’s presence that made me this irritated, I tried to justify it that way.

How he had moved on in less than two days after admitting to cheating on me.

He hadn’t even called me later that night to apologize. Instead, he had treated the entire incident as if it were my fault. As if he were innocent.

Hours passed, and practice finally came to an end but my driver still hadn’t arrived to pick me up.

I assumed he was delayed by traffic because of the weather and stayed behind, refusing to ride home with Thea or Becca. There was no point. They had seemed far too friendly earlier with Julian’s new girl, and I knew riding with them would only invite questions meant to ridicule me.

“Are you sure you’re still not going home yet?” a voice asked again.

I scoffed quietly, not bothering to answer.

It was Mr. Ashford.

He had been asking me the same thing for over an hour now, and I was already tired of listening to him, tired of being the last person here with him.

“A storm is coming, Camille,” he said slowly.

A shiver of unease coiled through my body because he was right.

Dark clouds had begun to gather, the wind picking up, the air heavy and charged. If he left now, I would be the only one here.

“You already came to my house days ago to ask for a favor,” he continued, his gaze fixed on me despite how hard I tried to avoid it. “Is coming home with me to stay safe now too much of a deal for you?”

His words settled between us, impossible for me to ignore.