Chapter 2

Sasha’s Pov

The second week of working with the West Wolves started with a headache, and his name was Kellan West. I thought the first day was bad, but I was so wrong.

Ever since my boss told me I had to follow him everywhere for the whole season, Kellan acted like he owned me, my camera, and my entire life.

Monday morning rolled around, and I was standing near the edge of the ice rink, trying to adjust my camera settings.

The boys were skating hard, practicing drills for the upcoming game. I raised my camera, looking through the lens to catch a good action shot of the forward line.

I waited for the player to skate past, focusing my lens, and just as I pressed the button to take the photo, a giant blur of blue and white jersey jumped right in front of my face.

Click went my camera.

I lowered it slowly. Standing right inches away from me was Kellan, grinning like a mischievous kid who just stole a cookie from the jar. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead, and his hockey stick resting casually against his shoulder.

"You know, Sasha, if you wanted a close-up portrait of my face, you could just ask," Kellan said, his voice dripping with that stupid, teasing charm. "You do not have to sneak pictures of me while I am working hard."

I glared at him so hard my eyes felt like they might pop out of my head. "I was taking a picture of the goal behind you, Kellan. You literally jumped in front of my lens on purpose. Move away. You are blocking my light."

Kellan did not move an inch. Instead, he leaned closer, resting his elbows on the protective glass barrier right beside me. "Why are you always so serious, camera girl? Is it a crime to smile? You look like you ate a lemon every single time you look at me."

"I am serious because I am trying to do my job," I snapped, stepping to the side to try and get a different angle. "And my name is Sasha. Stop calling me camera girl."

"Alright, Sasha-with-the-lemon-face," he teased, skating backward a few inches while keeping his bright blue eyes locked right on me.

"Tell you what. Smile for me right now, and maybe I will actually score three goals at the next practice just for you."

"I would rather watch paint dry," I shot back, lifting my camera again and ignoring the way my heart did a fast little flutter in my chest.

Why did he have to be so annoying and yet so infuriatingly handsome?

It went like this every single day. If we were in the gym, he would find a way to walk past my tripod and make a silly face.

If we were in the locker room hallway, he would lean against the doorframe and make comments about my outfit. His constant teasing drove me crazy. But what drove me even crazier was the audience.

The rest of the hockey players loved the show. Every time Kellan walked up to me to push my buttons, the other guys would whistle, laugh, and whisper to each other.

They thought it was the funniest game in the world. Kellan clearly loved the attention, acting like a proud peacock every time I told him to go away.

I was more convinced than ever that he was exactly like every other spoiled, wealthy athlete in the world. He had a million dollars, a famous family, and girls throwing themselves at him twenty-four seven.

To him, I was just a new puzzle to solve, a little challenge because I did not immediately fall at his feet.

By Friday night, the team hosted a special charity event at a grand hotel downtown. There were lights, expensive food, and dozens of screaming fans.

My job was to walk around and take pictures of the players interacting with people. I kept my distance, hiding behind my telephoto lens so I did not have to talk to anyone.

While I was adjusting my flash, a commotion near the dessert table caught my eye. I turned my camera that way and zoomed in.

There was Kellan, kneeling down on one knee so he was at eye level with a little girl who looked about eight years old. She wore an oversized West Wolves jersey and held a hockey puck tightly in her small hands. She looked completely nervous, her lower lip trembling like she was about to cry because she was so shy.

I stopped breathing for a second. Through my lens, I saw Kellan talking to her in a soft, gentle voice. He did not look arrogant or full of himself.

His smile was warm, kind, and completely real. He gently took the hockey puck from her hands, pulled a silver marker out of his pocket, signed his name on it, and handed it back.

Then, he reached out and gave her a gentle high-five, making her giggle so hard her whole face lit up with pure joy.

I lowered my camera slowly. A strange, confusing feeling tightened in my chest. Was that real? Or was he just acting for the crowd? I quickly shook my head, pushing the thought away. “Do not fall for it, Sasha,” I told myself. “It is all part of the charm act.”

"Like what you see through that lens?"

A deep voice spoke right beside my ear. I jumped, nearly dropping my expensive camera on the marble floor.

I spun around to find Kellan standing there, watching me with a curious look in his eyes. He had lost his suit jacket, and his white button-down shirt was open slightly at the collar.

"I was just taking pictures for the event," I said coldly, turning away so he would not see how startled I was.

Kellan stepped into my path, blocking me from walking away. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, tilting his head.

"You were watching me help that little girl. I saw you. And for a second, your face did not look like you wanted to throw me off a cliff."

"I was doing my job, Kellan," I said, keeping my voice flat. "It is my job to take pictures of the whole event."

"Sasha," he said softly, his voice losing that playful teasing tone and turning surprisingly serious. "Why do you hate me so much? Seriously. Every time I try to talk to you, you look at me like I am a bug you want to step on. What did I ever do to you?"

I stared at him, my frustration finally bubbling over the edge. "I do not hate you personally, Kellan. Because I do not even know you. But I know your type. You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth. Everything has always been handed to you on a golden platter. You have money, fame, and a last name that opens every door in the city. You think you can just snap your fingers and get whatever you want."

Kellan's jaw tightened. His blue eyes flashed with sudden anger, and his relaxed posture vanished. He was deeply offended by my words, and I could tell I hit a nerve.

"You think you know me, do you?" Kellan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "You think everything in my life was just handed to me? You think I do not work hard for what I have on that ice?"

"I think you have never had to struggle for anything in your entire life," I fired back, my hands shaking slightly with adrenaline. "And I do not trust men like that."

The air between us felt heavy, crackling with raw tension. The noise of the party around us seemed to fade away into nothing.

Kellan stared at me, his chest rising and falling heavily. For the first time since I met him, he did not have a smart comeback ready. He looked hurt, angry, and deeply confused.

I did not wait for him to find his voice. I turned my back on him, hoisted my camera bag over my shoulder, and started walking toward the exit doors.

Before I pushed open the heavy glass doors to leave, I looked back at him one last time. He was still standing right where I left him, watching me with a dark, intense look in his eyes.

I lifted my chin, looked him dead in the eye, and whispered the words that felt like a final wall between us.

"You could be the last man on earth, Kellan West, and I still wouldn't date you."