Page 8

Chapter

Seven

It was the kind of bright spring morning that made you want to believe in possibility.

Crisp air, pale sun, wet pavement steaming like the earth itself was sighing in relief.

I would’ve soaked it in had I not been trying to outpace Garrett.

He’d stayed so late at Tash’s capitalism study group that he’d crashed on our living room couch.

“Maddie! Wait up!”

I didn’t. But since he was six-foot-four and had legs like a giraffe, he caught up anyway.

“Hey.” He slid into step beside me, breath clouding slightly in the air, messenger bag slapping his hip. “Heading to class?”

I nodded. “Yep. Bright and early.”

He grinned, catching his breath. “I have to cross campus to get home. Mind if I walk with you?”

I did, actually. But I lacked the social cruelty to say so outright. I looked him over. His clothes were rumpled, but he didn’t look too dishevelled. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Oh, for sure. That couch is comfy.”

“Your feet must’ve hung over the edge.”

“No, it’s the perfect length. The arm is at the perfect place for my knee crotch.”

I snorted. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

His grin only widened. “Next time I could?—”

“You’re not sleeping in my room, Garrett.” I was grinning now, too. I didn’t know what to do with this. With him. On the one hand, I had to admit I was flattered. On the other, I’d never had a guy be so straight up.

Garrett was nice. Objectively attractive in that late-80s indie band kind of way—corduroy jacket, dark hair that curled around his ears. He had this lopey, happy-go-lucky energy that was contagious, but the idea of having a relationship with him? Kissing him?

That shut me down faster than Swackhammer’s steakhouse with the oil bust. And it wasn’t just Garrett.

I’d dated. I’d tried. Colin, the guy I had my longest relationship with, had been good on paper.

He was smart, sweet, into books. We had sex, and it was .

. . fine. Perfectly acceptable. The kind of experience you’d circle “satisfactory” for on a customer service survey.

How pathetic was that? I convinced myself then that it was just the wrong match.

We had no chemistry. After seeing Shar and Rob, I knew for a fact that was true.

But now I wasn’t so sure it was a Colin problem.

Even after going out with a few other guys, I still didn’t feel it—didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like.

Maybe I was the broken one. Maybe my brain was so amped up, I could never access that free, anti-analytical place.

Garrett shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be anything serious. But you don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t have a girlfriend, and you’re so beautiful, Maddie?—”

I stopped mid-stride and turned to him. “Garrett. I really appreciate your determination and your kind words, but I’m focused on my education right now.”

“Hey!”

I turned to see Crystal approaching. She was holding an extra coffee with my name on it. Garrett gave a small wave, his cheeks splotched with pink.

“Garrett. Any luck?” Crystal winked at him.

Garrett blew out a breath and shook his head. “I’d do whatever you want. Just sayin’.” He adjusted his messenger bag, then shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

Crystal handed me my coffee and waited before he was out of earshot before saying, “It could be fun, you know.”

I rolled my eyes and walked toward the Coxeter building. While I understood the significance of the name, I don't think the university administrators recognized the low-hanging fruit they were offering students for innuendo. "I don't get how that would be fun."

Crystal laughed. "Because he'd be such a willing participant?"

"That's my literal nightmare. Me having to direct another human in . . . pleasure? Ugh." I shook out my hands. I didn't know my own body well enough to even know where to start.

Crystal took a sip of her coffee, holding it out and craning her neck so she didn't accidentally spill on her shirt while we strolled. "Just think about it as an experiment. You'd be collecting data."

"Nice try." I nudged her shoulder, not wanting to admit that her angle intrigued me. Not running an experiment with Garrett. That idea still made me queasy, but?—

I blanched at the face that suddenly appeared in my head, then sucked in a breath at the instant tightening of my stomach. The rush of heat to my core.

"You okay?" Crystal gave me a sidelong glance.

I nodded too quickly. "Mmhmm. Just running a bit late.

" I gave her a hug and thanked her for the coffee, then split off at the path to head to class with Professor Kowalski.

Damn it, why was Chase Wilson in my head?

Especially while thinking about experimenting?

Not considering it—that would be crazy—but the fact that it sounded even a little bit exciting .

. . the fact that he was the one my brain attached to that feeling was very disconcerting.

Then again, it made perfect sense. The first time I ever felt that swoop in my stomach was when I walked down the hall and saw Chase leaning against the stairwell. What was it about him?

As I entered the classroom, I listed all the logical reasons why Chase would never—could never—be a good idea.

He was older than me, my stepbrother, had a bad attitude, obviously didn't care about academics, and was a member of the Douglas University faculty.

He was not someone to collect data with.

I rifled through the papers on Kowalski's desk and found my unit quiz. Ninety-eight percent.

"Be more careful with your proofs." Mr. Kowalski turned from the board, a piece of chalk in his hand. He nodded to the small red circle at the bottom of the fourth question. I shook my head. Rounding error.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of equations, symmetry groups, and note-scribbling until I landed in the library just after three with graphite smeared over the pad of my right hand and a low ache in my back.

I collapsed into the chair at my favourite computer in the sunlit corner, logged in, and waited for my university email to populate.

When it did, I scrolled past the spam and ignored a message from my mom to click on the email with Lamont's name as the sender. That was quick. I tapped my fingers on the mouse as the screen went white, then began showing the message line by line.

Subject: Outlaws Academic Support Proposal – Additions

Madelyn and Coach Wilson,

Thank you for your thoughtful proposal. The committee was impressed with your outlined goals and strategies. We’d like to move forward with one small amendment.

In addition to the support plans you’ve submitted, we are asking that you offer twice-weekly optional study sessions for all participating athletes.

It seems you have an excellent plan in place for those athletes currently on probation.

We are willing to consider allowing them to participate in their practices and games as long as they are following this protocol.

However, we feel like more preventative care is needed. Our hope is that these study sessions will allow other players to catch up before they end up in crises. We’d like them to be co-supervised by both of you.

Madelyn, as discussed, I will be happy to keep a record of your efforts and volunteer hours as a part of this committee.

Please respond with your proposed schedule.

Best,

H.L.

I exhaled with relief. Well. That couldn't have gone better.

Chase and I laid out a plan for moving Axel and Rory back into the green but didn't know if they'd go for it.

Chase would be thrilled to have them back on the ice.

But the twice-weekly study sessions? Based on his monologue the other day, I knew exactly what he'd say about them.

It was posturing. Something the committee could hold up and show other faculty members as proof of their efforts.

As much as I hated to admit, he had a point.

Would any of the Outlaws take us up on it?

I chewed my lower lip. It definitely couldn't be at night.

So many of them went out to Ranchman's after practice, and those who didn't went home and crashed.

There was no way we'd convince them to give up that time to study.

But before? That's when Rob was doing his extra workouts, according to Shar, and weekends were out with games and tournaments.

Twice weekly. My mind poked and prodded the problem from different angles until something clicked.

Food. We needed to offer them food. Nothing big, but cookies?

Brownies? We could hold the sessions on Tuesday and Wednesday to catch people regardless of their class stacks.

Do one during lunch and one at three. Rob didn't usually start until four if I remembered correctly.

We could hold them in the North Centre since it was close to the arena—The Douglas Dome. I still wasn't used to calling it that.

I leaned in and started typing.