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“Come on, Lia.” He smiles sweetly at me. “Pretty please.”

“I don’t know a thing about hockey,” I object lamely. He is getting to me, and I can feel it’s a matter of seconds before I’ll give in to his request.

Just as if she could feel it, Brook comes and stumbles into her seat. With narrowed eyes, she takes in the scene in front of her. For a second, I even think she caught glimpse of what’s been going behind me, but her full attention is quickly transferred to Max and me.

“Whatever he wants, Lia,” she looks at me seriously, “the answer is no.”

“What?” Max growls loudly. “This is so not fair.”

“Well, life’s not fair, honey,” Brook adds over her shoulder, already back in her Brook’s only universe.

“Lia?”

“Ohh god, okay!” I shout loud enough for people in the next classroom to hear me. “I’ll go, just stop looking at me like that.”

Puppy dog eyes are soon replaced by a Cheshire cat smile. “It’ll be fun, promise.”

“How can it be fun when I don’t even know what’s happening out there?” I ask him skeptically.

“You just look for a guy wearing a jersey with number 88.” He points his finger at his chest. “And cheer when he’s going towards the goal of the opposing team. That would be the ones not wearing white, blue, and grey with a wolf on it.”

“Easy-peasy.”

“It sure is,” he grins just as our teacher enters the classroom. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, I bet it’ll,” I whisper to myself.

I don’t even want to think what I got myself into. If the looming presence behind me, and Brook’s stiff stance in front of me are any indication, it’s going to be anything but fun.

Amelia

“Lia!” The low hiss behind me makes the hair at the back of my head stand up. “Amelia, wait!”

I ignore him and keep on walking, but he doesn’t get that I don’t want to talk to him. His fingers curl around my wrist and in one swift move, he has me turned around and crashing into his stiff, rock hard chest.

“I told you to wait,” he looks down at me.

“I didn’t hear you,” I talk back. I never talk back to anyone. Especially not him, almost as much as I never lie, but this is a flat out lie, and the look he gives me says he’s very aware of it.

Derek looks around us; a few people still linger around the hallways before leaving for their after-school activities.

“Come here,” he pulls me behind him.

Opening the first door, he looks inside, probably to confirm there is nobody inside, before going in and closing the door behind us.

“Why couldn’t we talk in the hall?” I jerk my hand out of his grasp and rub against sensitive flesh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

“It’s okay.”

His grip is firm, but not too strong to leave the bruise.

What makes me uneasy and itchy is the feeling his hand left behind. Light burning of my skin, tingles, and electricity rush through my fingers. Every time he touches me, it’s like sensory overload for my body.

Derek still looks worriedly at my hand so I urge myself to stop. “It’s fine, really,” I cross my hands nervously over my chest. “What do you need, Derek?”

“So you are going to the game tomorrow?”

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