All Chapters of Skating With Hearts : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I hated walking across campus alone, especially when I could feel eyes on me. Or maybe it was just my own paranoia.It had been a weird couple of days since Ethan’s confrontation in the dorm. I thought once he knew the truth—that this fake relationship with Ryans was just a revenge scheme, nothing more—he’d back off. He had, sort of. But the warning he had given still echoed in my ears:"Don’t let this turn into something else. Not with him."As if I had any control over that.Still, this whole thing had started to feel more like improv theatre than a calculated plan. One second Ryans was teasing me in class, the next he was tossing his arm around my shoulders in the dining hall. Every touch, every look, every joke—it was all scripted for an audience I couldn’t always see.But today, there was an audience for me because, of course, the universe hates me.I had just stepped out of the student union building, iced chai in hand, when I saw them.Caleb and Tara.My feet stopped immediatel

Hours ago…The roar of the crowd barely registered through the rush of blood in my ears. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the scratch of my skates carving up the ice, and the sharp echo of Coach Donovan's voice in my head: Finish strong, Maddox. Lead like you mean it.We were up 3-2. One minute left on the clock. And the Strikers were desperate. Caleb, of all people, was skating like his reputation depended on it which, let’s face it, it probably did. Losing to us was bad. Losing to me was worse. But losing to me while my arm was wrapped around his ex-girlfriend? That was going to kill him.I blocked another pass, pivoted, then lobbed the puck across the ice to Liam. He passed it off, weaved between two defenders, and Zayne slammed it into the net.GOAL.The arena exploded. Horns, cheers, screaming fans, confetti.We won.The guys swarmed me, slapping my back, throwing helmets in the air, whooping like lunatics. Ethan practically tackled me into the boards, laughing for

My mornings used to be predictable. Wake up. Shower. Toss on a hoodie and joggers. Have coffee that was black with no cream and no sugar. Grab my duffel and head to practice. But today? Today I stood in front of my closet for almost ten minutes, staring at my clothes like I was trying to solve a Rubik’s cube."Bro," my roommate, Deon, leaned against the doorframe with a shit-eating grin, toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth. "You trying to impress someone or finally realized sweatpants every day is a crime?"I threw a shirt at his face. "Shut up."He dodged and laughed. "Nah, seriously. That’s the third shirt you’ve picked up and put down. You got a date or something? Wait…. don’t tell me this is about Skylar."I froze mid-button. Damn. Busted.Deon raised both brows. "Holy crap, it is. Maddox has caught feelings.""Not really," I said, too fast."Sure," he said through a chuckle, disappearing back into the bathroom. "Tell that to your cologne."I ignored him and finished dre

Everyone had someone.That was the annoying realization poking at my mood as I walked out of my weekend class with my bag slung lazily over one shoulder and my water bottle swinging in my hand. The sun was mellow today, warm but not harsh, and campus looked like something out of a college brochure—smiling couples holding hands, laughing squads sprawled across the grassy quad, people snapping pics near the library mural like it was a damn tourist site.And then there was me. Alone. Walking with my own shadow and zero destination just because Ryans was not here at the moment.Luca hadn't even talked to me during class earlier. Not even a text or smile was sent my way. And he’d been kind of... distant since that cafeteria showdown with Ryans. Like, classic "avoiding-eye-contact-and-taking-sideways-exits" type of distant. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he was over it. Maybe I should stop thinking about the fact that Ryans was good at successfully chasing other guys from coming my way eve

Saturday classes were the worst invention mankind had ever come up with, and that was saying a lot, considering pineapple on pizza existed.While muttering to myself under my breath non-stop, I was dragging myself across campus toward Harper Hall for my pre-law seminar, coffee in one hand, earbuds in, hoodie up. The only reason I hadn’t skipped was because Coach Donovan would roast me alive if my attendance dropped. Being Boston Thunders’ captain didn’t mean I got a free pass academically. At least, that was what he kept saying to me every two practice sessions.I get the fact that he was hell bent on seeing me succeed but sometimes, it could be tiring when on a day like this, I just wanted to relax in bed. Halfway to my seat, two girls from the back row slid into step with me. Both were the kind who wore oversized sweaters but somehow still looked like they were auditioning for a perfume commercial."Hey, Ryans," one of them drawled as she came into my personal space. "You going to