Page 41 of Offside Attraction

“It’s a long story.”

“Short version.”

“We used to live here,” I say. “I was born here.”

“For real?” He pauses. “Is that how you knew Hayes? Is that where all this shit started?”

I lift my gaze from my notebook just as the classroom doors open.

Hayes strolls in like he owns the place—hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, confidence dripping off him like it’s second nature. Shay’s beside him, glued to his arm. Behind them trail Ezra, Peach, and Finn.

The room goes quiet instantly.

It’s like this every single day.

The moment Hayes Griffin enters a room, conversations die.

People stare.

They worship him. Adore him. Feed his ego without even realizing it.

Some girls shoot Shay jealous, venomous glares. Others look at her with dreamy awe because she’s the lucky girl fucking Hayes Griffin.

God, I hate him.

And I hate myself for being jealous of him too.

Hayes has everything—money, looks, power, loyalty, worship. Maybe I don’t want his life… but a part of me resents him for how perfect his world is.

“Look! It’s the man of the hour,” a voice calls out.

I tear my gaze away from Hayes and find Lance approaching—a defenseman from the hockey team.

Lance’s the friendly type. Loud, easygoing, the kind of guy who grows on you whether you want him to or not.

“Hey, man,” I say, shaking his outstretched hand.

“Dakota Miller.” Lance grins, still gripping my hand. “I saw the roster this morning. You made the team. Congrats. Coach Rivera’s a hard man to please, but you impressed him.” He pauses. “And not just him—me too. Even the team captain. You’re good, man.”

I catch Hayes’s eyes immediately.

He’s glaring at me.

So Ididimpress him.

A slow, smug grin curls at my lips as I turn my attention back to Lance.

“You should come sit with us,” Lance says, gesturing toward their reserved seats across the room.

Hayes appears at Lance’s side like clockwork, jaw tight, eyes sharp. “I don’t think Miller wants to sit with us,” he cuts in, his glare locked on me like a warning.

I scoff lightly. “Thanks, Lance. Maybe some other time.”

“You sure?” Lance presses. “You should get to know the team.”

“He can do that later,” Hayes snaps. “Let’s go, Lance.”

He shoots me one last glare before turning away and joining his friends, already seated.