Page 15 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Drew
I watch the door close behind her. “ Don’t fall in love with me, Klaas.
” The words linger in the empty lab, sharp and heavy, like she knows exactly how my brain’s been orbiting her for weeks.
I shove my notes into my backpack, power down the computer, and follow.
Not because I’m worried. Not because those words left me rattled.
Just because it’s after midnight, and campus is a place for anyone to walk alone.
The hallway stretches empty ahead of me. I can hear her footsteps echoing ahead, moving toward the elevator. I don’t call out. Don’t rush to catch up. Just maintain enough distance to make sure she gets there safely.
Don’t fall in love with me. I almost laugh. As if I have any control over that. As if I haven’t been losing this exact fight since the first day she took me to that bathroom and gave me the worst, but most determined, blowjob of my life.
When I reach the corner, I watch her step into the elevator. She doesn’t notice me tucked in the shadows. Good. The last thing I need is her thinking I’m some creep lurking around campus in the middle of the night.
The doors close. I wait until the display blinks, showing the elevator descent, then pull out my phone.
Me: Made it to the elevator without combusting. That’s progress, right?
I stare at the screen. Maybe she’s already shoved her phone in her pocket. Maybe she’s too tired to respond.
The three dots appear.
Jade: Were you watching me, Klaas? Stalker vibes.
I smile despite myself.
Me: Campus safety. It’s late. Or early. Depending on your perspective.
Jade: Ah, yes. The hockey player as bodyguard. Very original plot.
My thumbs hover over the screen. There’s something about texting her that’s easier than talking face-to-face. Without those blue eyes on me, I can almost pretend I’m smooth.
Me: Didn’t want to interrupt your dramatic exit. “Don’t fall in love with me, Klaas.” Very cinema.
The dots flicker, vanish, and return. I’ve made her pause. Good.
Jade: I was giving you fair warning. I’ve seen how you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.
My stomach tightens. Am I that obvious?
Me: Pure concentration. Trying to figure out if you’re actually taking notes or just drawing tiny robots in your notebook.
Jade: Multi-tasking. I can draw robots AND judge your taste in documentaries simultaneously.
I lean against the wall, grinning at my phone like an idiot. The empty hallway doesn’t care. The security guard making his rounds gives me a nod as he passes.
Me: Sunday. Media room. 7 pm?
Jade: Demanding, aren’t we?
Me: The project won’t rebuild itself.
Jade: Fine. But I’m bringing actual coffee, not that dining hall sludge you drink.
Me: It’s efficient.
Jade: It’s battery acid.
But she was impressed I had her coffee order right.
Me: See you Sunday.
Jade: Try not to miss me too much, sports guy.
I pocket my phone, still smiling. The silence of the building settles around me as I head toward the exit. My dad’s voice echoes in my head, telling me I need to focus, that distractions will cost me everything. Stay the course.
But Jade doesn’t feel like a distraction. She feels like clarity.
When we’re working together, the constant noise in my head—the expectations, the pressure, the endless to-do lists—it all quiets. I can breathe. Think. Remember why I’m doing any of this.
It scares the hell out of me.
We barely touch. I keep my hands to myself. Maintain a safe distance between our chairs. But every time she laughs, every time she calls me on my bullshit, every time she meets my eyes without flinching, the distance between us shrinks in ways that have nothing to do with physical space.
Don’t fall in love with me, Klaas.
This may not be love, but I’m sure feeling something.
I push through the doors into the night air. Campus is dead at this hour. A few distant voices. Someone’s music plays from an open dorm window. The walk back to my place is short, but I drag it out.
Sunday at seven. I’ve already rescheduled my evening workout, pushed up my film review, and crammed my study time. My dad would lose his shit if he knew I rearranged my carefully planned schedule for a girl.
But she’s not just a girl. She’s Jade Howell, with her cartoon references and her blunt questions and her ability to see right through me.
I check my phone one more time before I reach my building. No new messages. I didn’t expect any. But I like knowing the conversation is there, waiting.
Sunday can’t come fast enough.