LOGINLoganI should have left when the study group ended.Instead, I stayed behind at the table, slowly putting my notebook back into my bag.Which is how I ended up seeing something I definitely wasn’t expecting.Cole Ryder kissing Maya.Not flirting.Not joking.Kissing her like he meant it.For a second I thought she’d shove him away.That would’ve been the predictable outcome.But she didn’t.She kissed him back.And that’s when I knew things just got complicated.Because I know Cole Ryder’s reputation.Every athlete on this campus does.The Rogue.Football captain.Campus legend.The guy who makes impossible plays on the field and collects women like trophies off it.But here’s the thing most people don’t realize.I know exactly how he operates.Because in a lot of ways…He and I are the same.Ryder is the Rogue.I’m the King.At least that’s what people around campus like to call me.King of the ice.King of the charm.King of getting exactly what I want.The hockey version of Ryder.
MayaThe Ethics study group turns out to be exactly what I expected.Confusing.There are six of us sitting around a table in the library, and somehow every single person has a completely different interpretation of the War and Peace rhetoric Professor Harris assigned.Two people think the paper should argue that war rhetoric manipulates the public.One person insists it’s about moral justification.Another thinks the entire assignment is philosophical nonsense.At this point, I’m convinced the only way to survive this paper is to confidently bullshit my way through it.Cole sits across from me flipping through his notes, looking just as confused as the rest of us.“None of this makes sense,” he mutters.“You’re telling me,” someone else groans.Just as I’m about to speak up, another chair scrapes against the floor.I glance up.Logan Hayes walks into the study room.Great.He scans the table, notices me, and smiles.“Maya.”“Hey.”Cole’s head snaps up.Logan pulls out the empty chair
ColeI take another bite of the biscuit sandwich.And immediately regret it.The biscuit is dry enough that I almost choke.“I swear,” I mutter, grabbing my coffee, “I have no idea how they manage to make biscuits this dry.”Maya laughs beside me.“My grandmother used to make the best homemade biscuits,” she says. “Fluffy, buttery, perfect every single time.”“Used to?”“She still does,” Maya says. “I just can’t recreate them the way she does.”“That’s tragic.”“It really is.”I shake my head.“I’m from Pittsburgh. Food is basically a personality trait there.”“Oh I know,” she says immediately. “The Strip District alone proves that.”That makes me glance over at her.“You’ve been to the Strip?”“Of course,” she says. “My hometown is in Ohio, but it’s not that far from Pittsburgh.”“What town?”“Girard.”I blink.“Seriously?”She nods.“You’ve heard of it?”“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “It’s near Youngstown. Not that far from Pittsburgh.”“Exactly.”I lean back slightly in the seat.“Th
ColeI wake up around ten the next morning.Normally after an away game I’d sleep half the day away, but my body is too sore to stay in bed. Every muscle reminds me of the hits I took last night.Winning feels great.The bruises that come with it? Not so much.I drag myself into the shower, letting the hot water loosen the tightness in my shoulders. By the time I finish getting dressed, I remember something else I have to deal with today.Ethics.I hate that class.Usually I skip the study groups because they’re pointless, but this section on The Rhetorics of War and Peace has me completely confused. Professor Harris decided this topic is apparently the most important thing we’ll study all semester.And if I don’t pass?I can’t play.That alone is enough to drag me out of the house.I grab my keys and head outside toward my truck.Just as I step off the porch, I hear a door close.I glance toward the house next door.Maya is walking down her driveway with a backpack slung over one sho
MayaIt only takes two days after Logan moves in for the dynamic in our house to completely change.Not in a bad way.Just… different.The biggest difference is the refrigerator.Before Logan moved in, Bree and I mostly survived on coffee, yogurt, and whatever random leftovers we could find during the week.Now?Our fridge is suddenly full of eggs, chicken, protein shakes, and an alarming amount of sports drinks.Apparently hockey players eat like they’re preparing for winter.I’m standing in the kitchen early Saturday morning frosting cupcakes when Logan walks in wearing sweatpants and a hockey hoodie.He stops halfway through the doorway and sniffs the air.“Please tell me those are for breakfast.”I laugh without looking up.“Cupcakes.”“Even better.”He walks over and leans against the counter, eyeing the cooling rack like he’s debating stealing one.“You bake a lot.”“Occupational hazard,” I say. “If I’m stressed, I bake.”“Good coping strategy.”Bree walks into the kitchen right
ColeSaturday means game day.We’re coming off our bye week and today’s game is against one of our biggest rivals.Two hours on a bus.Two hours of game film.Normally I sit in the back with my tablet, studying plays from previous games so I know exactly how their defense moves.Preparation is everything.But today?My concentration is shot.Every time I try to focus on the screen, my mind drifts back to one thing.Logan Hayes moving into Maya’s house.If she wanted another athlete living there, I could’ve found someone on the team looking for a place.But no.It had to be Hayes.The King himself.By the time we reach the stadium, I force myself to shove the thought out of my head.Game mode.Coach gathers us in the locker room.“Men,” he says, pacing in front of us, “we had a week to recover. Today we show them what we’re made of.”The room goes quiet.“This team we’re facing today isn’t easy. But neither are we.”He stops in front of us.“You know why we win games?”Nobody answers.







