Page 92 of Offside Attraction

My stomach sinks, and I grip the edge of my desk, my mind racing. This will be my second trip to the principal’s office, and I’m already on her bad side. Smoking around school premises, not dressing properly, showing up late—once, sure, but it’s all added up, and I know I’m skating on thin ice. One more misstep, and I could be suspended—or worse, expelled.

I can’t let that happen. I just can’t. It would break my mother’s heart, and despite how strained things are between us, I don’t want to be the reason she loses faith in me. She fought so hard to move us back here, to give me some semblance of a fresh start. Blowing it now would only prove that I haven’t changed at all.

And all because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check.

I glance over at Hayes, who’s staring straight ahead, his jaw tight. He looks annoyed but not scared. Of course he wouldn’t be—Hayes Griffin can do no wrong in this school just like Dalton Middle School. His name alone is probably enough to keep him out of trouble.

For fuck’s sake, his parents are the biggest donors, he could get away with anything. Meanwhile, I’m the one with a history, the one who doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt. If anyone’s walking out of this mess unscathed, it’s him.

I grit my teeth, refusing to look at him again as Ms. Aldridge resumes the lesson. But I can still feel his presence, heavy and unrelenting, like a storm cloud hovering just over my shoulder. And I know this detention isn’t going to end well.

CHAPTER 23

PrincipalCaldwell’sofficeisjust as intimidating as I remember—large, cold, and spotless, like it belongs in some courtroom instead of a Preparatory school. Her desk is a fortress of order, every paper and pen meticulously arranged. And there she sits, staring at me and Hayes like we’re two criminals on trial. Beside her stands Ms. Aldridge, arms crossed and clearly still annoyed from earlier.

“Sit,” Principal Caldwell says curtly, motioning to the two wooden chairs in front of her desk. Her tone leaves no room for argument. Hayes and I take our seats, the tension between us so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“I warned you, Mr. Miller,” she begins, her voice sharp, her eyes locking onto mine with a sternness that feels like a weight pressing down on me. “At the start of the semester, I made itvery clear that I didn’t want to see you in this office again after the cigarette incident. And yet, here you are.”

I try not to roll my eyes, pushing my irritation down as I hold her gaze. This is not new to me. I’ve been in this situation more times than I can count—different schools, different principals, all with the same scolding tone and disappointed looks. It’s a script I’ve heard so often I could recite it in my sleep.

“I'm so sorry, ma’am,” I say, my voice flat but polite enough to avoid making this worse. I keep my face neutral, refusing to let her see how much this whole lecture grates on me.

Principal Caldwell doesn’t buy my act for a second. Her eyes narrow, her fingers tapping on the edge of her desk in a steady, controlled rhythm. “Is this a joke to you, Mr. Miller? I gave you a chance to prove yourself when you transferred here, and now you’ve wasted it.”

I inhale sharply, resisting the urge to bite back. I know better than to argue—it’s not like it’ll change her mind. But my patience is wearing thin, especially with Hayes sitting beside me, watching this whole thing like he’s enjoying the show.

“Ms. Aldridge has informed me of the disruption you caused in her class,” she continues. “I don’t care who started it or why it happened. What I care about are the consequences of your actions.”

”I’m sorry, Principal Caldwell,” Hayes interjects, his voice calm but laced with irritation. “I don’t think detention is really necessary here.”

I glance at him, surprised by the composure in his tone. Of course he’d try to talk his way out of this.

“And why is that, Mr. Griffin?” Principal Caldwell asks, her eyebrows arching slightly.

“I’ve never had detention before,” Hayes says smoothly, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I’ve always maintained good behavior, and frankly, I have hockey practice after school. We’vegot an important game coming up, and missing practice isn’t exactly ideal.”

“Oh, please,” I mutter under my breath, earning a glare from Hayes.

“What was that, Mr. Miller?” Principal Caldwell asks sharply, her gaze snapping to me.

“Nothing,” I mumble, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.

Hayes, clearly not done yet, gestures toward me. “Honestly, Principal Caldwell, I wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for him. Ever since Dakota showed up, it’s been one problem after another. I’ve never had issues like this before. This whole thing—” he waves a hand, “—is because of him.”

I whip my head toward him, anger bubbling up. “You’re seriously blaming me? You’re the one who can’t keep your mouth shut in class!”

“Enough!” Principal Caldwell’s voice cuts through the room like a whip. “I don’t care whose fault it is. This isn’t about blame—it’s about accountability. Both of you disrupted the class. Both of you are responsible. And both of you will face the consequences.”

“But—” Hayes starts, his confidence faltering slightly.

“No buts, Mr. Griffin,” she says firmly. “I don’t care about your hockey practice or your game. You’ll serve detention, and you’ll do it today after school. If it impacts your practice, that’s a consequence of your behavior. Learn from it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to smirk. For once, Hayes isn’t getting a free pass.

Principal Caldwell’s eyes shift back to me, and the smugness I’m trying to hide dies instantly. “And you, Mr. Miller, you’re running out of second chances. You’re already on thin ice with me. If you find yourself back in this office again, the conversation will be about suspension. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.