Page 40 of The Play Maker

Although, lately, there’s been one person who actually gets a reaction out of him. I don’t know what went down there, but it’s weirdly entertaining. And yeah, I’ve thought about asking, but I’d probably get a shoulder check for even bringing it up.

I skate over and start dropping cones, one by one. It’s cold. My fingers are stiff. My back’s starting to ache. I know no one’s gonna thank me for doing this, but whatever.

I finish the setup and drop to the side of the rink, leaning on the boards. Coach blows his whistle, the guys explode into the first drill, and I just stand there, arms crossed, freezing my ass off.

This sucks.

I miss being on the ice. I miss the noise, the pressure, the rush. I even miss the dumb stuff. Coach yelling, the gear digging into my shoulders, sweat dripping into my eyes. I’d take all of it over this.

And yeah, I screwed up. I know that. I should’ve paid more attention in class, turned my work in and whatever else. But it’s not like I was partying all the time. I just… suck at school. Always have.

I lift my head when I spot Isabella making her way over, clutching her clipboard to her chest. She slides down onto the bench beside me without a word and gives me a sideways look.

“Hey, baby Hayes,” I say with a forced smile.

“You alright?” she asks, narrowing her eyes a little.

I shrug, staring back at the ice. “Peachy.”

She lets out a soft hum and watches the guys tearing through drills.

“You miss it?” she asks, nodding toward the ice.

Hell yeah. I want to say it out loud, but it sounds pathetic even to myself.

Instead, a bitter laugh slips out. “It’s the only place I belong,” I admit.

She gives me a quick smile. “You’ll be back soon,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

Isabella’s nice. Too nice for someone dating Ryan Reed, but hey, love’s blind and all that. Still, she didn’t see the look of disappointment on her dad’s face when I got suspended.

“Don’t think that’s happening anytime soon,” I tell her, my eyes flicking back to the ice. Nathan’s glove snatches a puck midair. I swallow the knot in my gut.

“Ryan said you got a tutor.”

I nod, slowly, glancing at Isabella. “Yeah. Her name’s Maisie. And she’s… she’s actually pretty great at it,” I admit.

I catch myself smiling just thinking about Maisie. The way she organizes her pens by color, how she uses every shade of highlighter known to man.

I wasn’t expecting to like tutoring. Wasn’t expecting her, really.

I breathe out a laugh. “She hates me most of the time.”

She rolls her eyes like it’s a full-time job. Doesn’t laugh at my dumb jokes. Huffs at everything I say. But for some reason, I keep pushing her buttons anyway.

It’s fun. Teasing her. Watching her get flustered and then act like it doesn’t bother her.

“Most of the time?” Isabella teases, raising an eyebrow.

I grin. “Well, obviously, she secretly loves me. I’m Austin Rhodes.”

She shoots me a look. “And humble, too.”

I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “She’s smart,” I continue, her face flashing in my mind. “Weirdly patient, and doesn’t take my shit, which is kind of refreshing.” I pause, my eyes tracing the players moving through drills. “It’s actually fun. More fun than I thought it would be.”

The whistle blows again and the guys reset for the next drill.