Page 77 of The Play Maker

I watch her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, blushing. I don’t think she gets compliments like that often, but she should. She’s so—God, I don’t even know. I have no fucking words for what this girl is. I suck at words, suck at saying what I think. But I swear, if I had a single poetic bone in my body, I’d write a whole damn sonnet about her.

“If you ever get bored with Austin, you can always come and hang out with me,” Isabella teases, flashing her a smile.

I give her a dry look. “No one ever gets bored with me.”

Maisie twists her lips. “That’s debatable.”

I lift my brows, glancing down at her, seeing that adorable teasing smile on her face. “You love my company, Freckles. Don’t lie.”

She chuckles. I love the sound of her laugh. Her whole face lights up when she smiles and it makes me feel like I’m looking at sunshine. And maybe that sounds cheesy, but whatever. I’m standing here getting knocked flat by a damn smile.

“I should get going,” Isabella says, placing a hand on Maisie’s arm. “But it was nice to see you again.”

Maisie smiles. “You too.”

Isabella heads off, standing beside her dad, and Maisie shifts, her eyes flicking toward the locker room.

“I should go change,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ll see you Friday?”

She nods. “Friday.” She takes a few steps, then glances back. “Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply with a grin.

She rolls her eyes, before she turns around, and I watch her go, the soft bounce of her ponytail, the way her skates click on the rubber mat. She disappears into the hallway, and I sit back on the bench, letting out a breath.

The guys are already skating drills, sticks clacking, shouts echoing off the walls.

I should be out there.

But I can’t play until I pass.

And to pass, I need her.

But if I’m being honest?

Even if I didn’t need her—like, even if my shitty grades were magically wiped off the face of the earth—I’d still want to be around her.

I’d still want her smile, her sarcasm, the way she looks at me.

Maisie Wilson is my tutor.

But she’s also becoming something else entirely.

And I don’t think I’m ready for what that means.

But I want to be.

God, I want to be.

16

AUSTIN

Midway through the second period, I’m ready to crawl out of my skin.

The crowd is on their feet, buzzing with energy. Music thumps through the speakers, echoing off the rink walls, and I swear I can feel it in my teeth.