Chapter 2

The silence that followed Asher’s words was worse than laughter.

I stood frozen at the entrance of the hockey club while twenty pairs of eyes bounced between us. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Everyone seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

For a moment, I foolishly hoped he had changed. Two years had passed. People grew up. High school ended. Life moved on.

Then he looked at me, and that hope died instantly. The amusement in his cold gray eyes was exactly the same.

“You know her, Captain?” one of the players asked.

Asher slipped his hands into his pockets. “Unfortunately.”

Laughter erupted around the room. Heat crawled up my neck. I wanted to turn and walk out, but I tightened my grip on my camera bag instead. A scholarship student didn’t get the luxury of running.

One of the coaches stepped in before I could respond.

“Perfect. You’re here.” The middle-aged man handed me a folder. “Ivy Hart, right? Photography major?”

I nodded.

“Good. You’ll be working closely with the team this semester—practice coverage, game-day shots, promotional content. Captain Hayes will coordinate with you.”

My stomach sank.

The coach kept talking, oblivious. “The regional championship is coming up. We need strong material for banners and ads.”

“Got it,” I said quietly.

The second the door shut behind him, the room felt smaller and more suffocating.

Asher’s teammates drifted back into their conversations, but not before throwing curious glances my way. I focused on the assignment sheet, refusing to look at him.

“Photography major?” His voice came from much closer than expected.

I looked up. Mistake.

He stood directly in front of me—taller, broader. The years had been generous to Asher Hayes. Unfortunately.

“What are you still here?” I asked.

His eyebrow lifted. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing. Did you get in with a donation again?”

“I got a scholarship,” I corrected, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Surprise flickered across his face then vanished. “Good for you.”

I knew that tone. The same condescending one he used whenever I scored higher than him.

I walked around him. The volunteer orientation included a facility tour, and unfortunately, that tour involved Asher.

For the next hour he led me through locker rooms, training areas, storage, and the arena, acting like the perfect captain. Coaches loved him. Players respected him. The university practically worshipped him.

It was enough to make me question my memories.

Once we were in a quiet area, the mask slipped.

“Still wearing clothes from discount stores?”

I nearly stumbled. There it was. The real Asher.

I kept walking.

“Atleast I didn't steal it.” I shot back. “Wait, did your parents really never teach you manners?”

He laughed. “Just the way yours never taught you how to stop being an easy target?”

I stopped and faced him. “What exactly is your problem?”

His expression stayed relaxed. “You think I have one?”

“You spent all of high school making my life miserable, don't you ever get tired?.”

“Weren't you secretly wishing I don't stop?”

Before I could answer, a blond player with a bright grin and too much energy approached. “Captain, Coach wants everyone on the ice.” His eyes landed on me and lit up with recognition. “Including you, charity case.”

“My name is Ivy,” I said coldly.

The player shrugged with a laugh. “Sure.”

Asher said nothing and somehow, that hurt more.

By the end of the first half I had taken nearly six hundred photos and wanted to commit murder. Every player cooperated except one. Asher deliberately skated out of frame, ignored instructions, and ruined shots while making it look accidental.

Once it was break, I escaped to the administration building to submit my report.

“Everything going well?” the woman at the volunteer office asked with a smile.

“Yes ma.” I lied.

~~

I’d spent my entire first full day on campus trying to stay invisible, especially from Asher Hayes. Yet here he was again, staring back at me from my laptop screen in the crowded student lounge like he owned the damn thing. Sun-kissed tan skin, cold gray eyes that screamed predator, muscles visible even through his hockey gear. I’d been glued to this chair for hours editing his shots because the championship banners couldn’t wait any longer.

I reached for my coffee, then froze at the familiar voice behind me.

“Hey, Charity… case.” He dragged the words out lazily, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. “Did you get enough pictures? Or were you too busy staring at me to finish the job yesterday?”

I winced. I needed to get out of here.

I slammed my laptop shut, shoved it into my bag, grabbed my coffee, and stood.

“Planning to run away like you always do?” he called after me.

Anger seethed through me. I took a deep breath and turned with the fakest smile I could manage.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

His hair had fallen messily across his forehead, still damp from practice. His jacket hung unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sliver of his broad, rigid chest. My body reacted before my brain could catch up — a traitorous warmth spreading across my skin, a stupid flip low in my stomach. I hated how easily he still affected me.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. “So… are my pictures ready? Or have you been staring at them all night?”

“Poor little charity case finally has access to the guy she could never have in high school.” A girl cooed.

The students around us went quiet, then burst into loud laughter and his friends joined in.

Humiliation burned through me like acid. This wasn’t just teasing anymore. He was making sure everyone saw me as pathetic and desperate.

I bit my lower lip hard, fighting to keep my voice steady. “They’re not ready yet.”

He leaned in closer, voice dropping but still carrying. His faint masculine scent wrapped around me like a trap. “Why? You’ve been masturbating with my pictures, haven’t you?”

The words hit like a slap before I even moved. Shock ripped through me first — raw, burning humiliation that made my face flame and my throat tighten.

“Masturbating?”

He’d said it so casually, and loudly, like it was nothing. It wasn't even funny. My mind reeled, flashing back to every degrading rumor he’d started in high school.

I studied the students around us. They weren’t shocked, they were enjoying it. Grins spread across faces. Laughter bubbled up. Several had already pulled out their phones, recording the moment with eager eyes, clearly hoping for something viral. My stomach twisted. If I let this slide, what new rumors would explode by tomorrow? “Charity Case Gets Off on the Hockey Captain.” “Scholarship Girl’s Desperate Fantasy.” It was only my second day. I couldn’t let my reputation get tainted like this so soon.

This wasn’t high school anymore. I didn’t have to shrink, neither do I have to hold back.

Something inside me snapped.

My palm cracked across his face before he could finish another word. The sharp sound echoed through the lounge. His head flew sideways. Gasps rippled through the room.

“Don't you ever talk to me like that again, Asher!” I said through gritted teeth, my voice shaking with fury.

“I’m not your personal photographer, neither am I your maid, so mind your manners.”