Page 11 of The Play Maker

“Nice to see you again,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

“I can’t say the same.”

He chuckles, completely unbothered by my attempt to shut him down. “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Of course you didn’t.” I finally turn to face him, lifting a brow.Why would he?Austin Rhodes and I don’t exactly run in the same circles. I’ve walked past him hundreds of times—practice, classes—and he’s never noticed me before.

In his world, he’s the golden boy of the hockey team, effortlessly cool, always surrounded by his usual type—girls who look like they walked off a magazine cover.

In mine, I sit alone at the top of the lecture hall, keeping to myself, headphones in, eyes down.

I don’t exist in his world. And yet, here he is.

Austin presses his lips together and his gaze sharpens just a little. “Alright. You’re still pissed about last week. Got it.” He pulls something from his pocket, and my breath hitches.

My iPod.

The one I’ve been tearing my place apart in search of over the past few days—sitting there, casually, in his hand.

My mouth goes dry. I had seriously considered just accepting defeat and buying a new one. Turns out he’s been walking around with it this whole time.

I sit up straighter, my pulse quickening as I stare at the iPod in his hands. “You… where did you?—?”

“You left it at the rink,” he says with a shrug. “Thought you might want it back.” His fingers toy with the device. “I dig your playlists, by the way. I hope you don’t mind, but I added a few songs of my own.”

I blink, completely taken off guard. “I do mind,” I say, irritation creeping into my voice. “I don’t want you touching my stuff.”

Austin just laughs, leaning back in his seat. “Well… too late for that, I’m afraid. You know what they say, right? Finders keepers, losers?—”

“I won’t be weeping,” I snap, glaring at him. “What do you want an old iPod for anyway?”

He shrugs again, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Dunno. Gives me a reason to talk to you, I guess.”

I scoff. “Seriously? You’ve resorted to flirting your way to an A?”

His cocky grin widens. “I mean, I’d be happy with a B, but I’ll do what it takes to get it.”

I roll my eyes, trying to mask the small flush creeping up my neck. I don’t even want to play into whatever game he’s trying to start. “Well, I’m not interested.”

And neither is he. This flirting thing—whatever it is—has nothing to do with him actually liking me. It’s all just part of his charm, the kind that works with everyone else. But I’ve been around the block enough to know that guys like Austin don’t look twice at girls like me.

He’s just using me. And I’m not going to let him.

“Ah, come on,” he nudges my arm with his elbow, his cocky smile not budging. “Just a few tutoring sessions. I’m sure I’ll get it down by then.”

I take a deep breath, closing my laptop before turning fully toward him. “Listen, pretty boy. I know you’re probably not used to being told ‘no’, so listen to me clearly. I am not interested in you or whatever this—” I wave my hand between us “—this flirting thing is. I’m not one of your puck bunnies, and I won’t be drooling at the thought of spending time with you. So, I’m going to tell you this one last time. I do not want to tutor you. Goodbye.”

When I’m done, I let out a harsh breath, noting his brows are slightly raised and his lips are parted in surprise. I don’t really raise my voice, and maybe I was a little too harsh, but I wanted to make sure he understood that whatever he’s trying to pull is not going to work on me.

But that shocked expression disappears almost instantly when he breaks into a smirk, revealing his perfect teeth. “You think I’m pretty?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement.

I roll my eyes.

“And for the record,” he says as he arches a brow, “I don’t call them puck bunnies.” He leans forward slightly. “I findit disrespectful and degrading. They’re just women who are attracted to hockey players.” He shrugs, flashing me a wink. “As are you, apparently.”

I shoot him a glare. “Did you not hear me say I wasn’t interested?”

He gives a slight nod, still smiling. “Loud and clear, blue eyes.” He pauses, a mischievous gleam in his gaze. “I also heard you call me pretty, so that kind of cancels it out, doesn’t it?”