Chapter 3

Ryder

I left the academic room more irritated than I had any right to be.

Ivy Bennett.

The scholarship girl with the oversized glasses that kept sliding down her freckled nose, the braces that flashed every time she clenched her jaw, and the stubborn little attitude that refused to fold no matter how hard I pushed. She had spent the entire hour looking at me like I was a problem she couldn’t wait to be done with, and somehow that got under my skin more than any of the girls who actually smiled when I walked into a room.

I hadn’t expected that.

I’d walked in ready to waste her time, maybe get a rise out of her, and then coast until the university found some other way to keep me eligible. Instead she’d sat across from me in that oversized sweater, spine straight, voice calm and sharp, correcting me like I was some lazy kid who couldn’t be bothered. Most people at Westbury laughed at my comments or rolled over the second I smirked. Ivy just stared at me like she was already calculating how many more sessions she could tolerate before she quit.

It should have annoyed me.

It did.

But it also made me keep thinking about her long after I walked out.

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my joggers and headed toward the athlete parking lot, jaw tight. The afternoon air was cool, carrying the distant sound of someone practicing shots on the outdoor rink. My teammates were probably still hanging around, talking shit, planning whatever party was happening this weekend. Normally I would’ve joined them without a second thought. Today I just wanted to get in my car and drive.

The image of her kept replaying no matter how hard I tried to push it away—cheeks faintly pink, glasses slipping, that stubborn mouth pressed into a line while she told me she only had seventeen dollars in her account. The way she hadn’t backed down once. The way she looked at me like I was the last person on campus she wanted to be stuck with. Most girls at this school would’ve already been half in love with the idea of tutoring the hockey captain. Ivy looked like she’d rather set her textbooks on fire than spend another hour in the same room as me.

I didn’t like that it bothered me.

I dropped into the driver’s seat of my car, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot a little harder than necessary. The drive back to the house should have cleared my head. It didn’t. Every red light gave me another chance to remember the way she’d pushed her glasses higher on her nose when she was concentrating, or the quiet steel in her voice when she’d threatened to walk out and tell Dr. Miller I’d refused to cooperate. She hadn’t raised her voice. She hadn’t needed to. That calm, unimpressed tone had somehow gotten under my skin worse than if she’d yelled.

By the time I turned onto our street, I was still thinking about her, and that only made me more annoyed with myself. I was Ryder Knox. I didn’t get thrown off by quiet girls in oversized sweaters who looked at me like I was an inconvenience. I especially didn’t get thrown off by girls who clearly had zero interest in who I was or what I could offer.

Nora’s white Range Rover was already parked in front of the house when I pulled into the driveway.

Great.

I sat in the car for an extra minute, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, before finally getting out. The house was quiet when I stepped inside. Kane’s door upstairs was closed, which meant he was either napping or out. The other guys weren’t around. That left just Nora.

I found her in the kitchen, perched on the counter in a tiny crop top and leggings that left very little to the imagination. Her blonde hair was perfect, makeup perfect, posture perfect. Everything about Nora Whitmore was carefully put together for maximum effect. She looked up when I walked in and immediately gave me the smile she used in public—sweet, practiced, the one that made people think we were still the golden couple everyone expected us to be.

“Hey, baby,” she said, hopping down and crossing the kitchen toward me. She rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Practice run long?”

“Something like that.”

I didn’t really kiss her back. I opened the fridge, grabbed a water, and leaned against the counter instead. Nora’s hand slid up my chest, fingers toying with the neckline of my jersey the way she always did when she wanted attention.

“I missed you,” she murmured. “You’ve been so busy lately. I feel like I barely see you.”

Busy avoiding the fact that something between us had started feeling off weeks ago. Busy noticing the way her phone lit up with messages she angled away from me whenever I walked into a room. Busy realizing I didn’t care the way I used to. And now, busy thinking about a freckled tutor who looked at me like she already regretted agreeing to help me.

Nora stepped closer, pressing against me, her perfume familiar and expensive. “Come upstairs. I’ll make you feel better. You’ve been stressed.”

The old version of me would’ve already been halfway up the stairs with her, letting her distract me the way she always did. Today I just felt restless. The idea of going through the motions with her suddenly felt more exhausting than anything else.

“Rain check,” I said, stepping around her to grab a second water from the fridge I didn’t actually need. “I’ve got some shit to do.”

“Ryder.”

I stopped in the doorway but didn’t turn around.

Her voice lost a little of the sweetness. “You’ve been weird lately.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.” She paused, and I could hear the careful calculation behind her next words. “Is this about the tutoring thing? I heard they stuck you with some nerdy girl from the scholarship program.”

Something tight flickered in my chest at the way she said it. Some nerdy girl. Like Ivy was nothing. Like the fact that she’d sat across from me for an hour and refused to give me an inch meant less than nothing.

“She’s just the tutor,” I said, forcing a shrug as I finally glanced back at her. “Doesn’t matter.”

Nora was quiet for a second too long. Her arms folded across her chest, and the sweet smile stayed in place, but there was something sharper underneath it now.

“Good,” she finally said. “Because I don’t like the idea of some random scholarship girl spending hours alone with my boyfriend. You know how those types get. They see a guy like you and start getting ideas.”

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “Jealous?”

“Should I be?”

The question hung in the air between us. A few weeks ago I might have closed the distance, kissed her, told her she had nothing to worry about just to keep the peace. Today I just looked at her and felt… nothing much at all.

“I don’t know, Nora,” I said eventually. “Should you?”

Her expression flickered. Just for a second. Then the practiced smile was back, softer this time, like she was choosing to let it go for now.

“Don’t be like that,” she said, walking over and resting her hand on my arm. “I’m just looking out for you. You know how people talk. The last thing you need is some quiet little tutor getting the wrong idea because you’re stuck with her for a few weeks.”

I didn’t answer. I just pulled my arm free, muttered something about needing a shower, and headed upstairs.

In my room I dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, one arm behind my head. The house was quiet again. Outside, the late afternoon light was starting to fade. My mind went straight back to Ivy whether I wanted it to or not.

The way she’d pushed her glasses up when she was concentrating. The flush that had crept across her freckled cheeks when I’d deliberately tried to get under her skin. The stubborn set of her mouth when she’d told me she only needed the money, not my attitude. The way she sat across from me like she wasn’t the least bit impressed by who I was or what my last name meant at this school.

I was still dating Nora.

I was still supposed to care about keeping up appearances, about the way we looked together at parties and games, about the version of us that everyone on campus seemed to envy.

But all I could think about was how badly I already wanted to get under that quiet tutor girl’s skin again—and how much it bothered me that she clearly didn’t want me under hers.

I dragged a hand down my face and let out a long breath.

This was going to be a problem.