Page 7 of The Save

Three

How hadI not heard the door open?

"Hey, Maddie." He breathed out a little and dropped his eyes as he smiled. He wore an Oxford shirt and khakis. Very professional. Very un-Chase.

I couldn't stop staring at his mustache. "Uh, hey." I glanced back at the receptionist, who was wadding up the note she'd just started. "Yes. I stopped by because I heard some of the guys were benched due to their grades."

"You were serious then?" he asked, and I frowned. He strode toward the counter and let the door swing closed behind him. The reception area was small to begin with, and now it felt like curbside at a Canada Day parade. "When you said to phone you if I needed math help."

My mouth opened and closed. Ranchman's. When I ran into him by the washrooms. I'd been trying to play it cool.Had I really said that?"I guess I was." The receptionist sat behind the desk, watching us.

Chase nodded. "I'll keep that in mind." He shoved a hand in his pocket, and I seriously started wondering if he was pulling out all his old moves on purpose. Then I realized what an idiot Iwas because these weren't moves. They were . . . normal signs of human existence.

"Okay, yeah. But I was wondering—I'm thinking about applying for the Rhodes Scholarship."Thinking? I wasn't thinking about it, I was definitely applying. Why had I said it like that?"I'm looking for opportunities to serve Douglas and the community, and I figured this was a problem close to home that I could help solve. I'd love to talk with you about setting up?—"

"I've got some things in the works already. But I appreciate you offering." Chase leaned over the counter and said something to the receptionist that I couldn't hear with all the blood rushing in my ears.

Was he dismissing me? Not even considering what I had to say? What, he was a few years older than me and had on a pressed, collared shirt, and suddenly he was the expert? Maybe he'd been trained in coaching, and he definitely knew hockey better than I did, but between the two of us, I could guarantee I had the upper hand when it came to studying, test-taking, and good grades.

"What are they?" I folded my arms over my chest.

Chase turned his head. "Hm?"

"Your 'things in the works.' What are they?" I took a step closer and cleared my throat. "I'm here offering my services and?—"

"You have services?" The corner of his mouth twitched.

Oh, he was making me see red."Yes. Tutoring services." I scrambled for data to corroborate the claim I was about to make. I'd helped Crystal with her bio class after she'd struggled so hard with chem. I'd worked with Tash in her ecology class, and both had pulled out B's. That was a hundred percent track record as far as I was concerned. "I guarantee at least B grades with all of the students I mentor, and I believe that's what yourplayers need to remain in good standing." That was excellent—professional, concise. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

"Are you sure that's a promise you can make? You've never had a student who didn't pass that mark?" His eyes glinted, and heat rose to my cheeks. I was back in the kitchen, watching him tap his pencil eraser on the strip of blank paper at the top of his Math 20 test. I could still see the streaks of red slashing through half of the numbered questions.

I wet my lips. "Only one. And I learned from it."

Chase held my gaze, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise a few degrees. I flinched when he dropped his hand on the countertop. "I've got a meeting I need to get to, but I'll reach out."

Hope warred with annoyance in my chest. Had I done enough to convince him? But also, why had I needed to convince him? He, of all people, knew what I was capable of. "Sure. I can give you my number. It's the one I share?—"

"Oh, I can access your student email."

I paused with my hand reaching over the counter for a pen. Right. He was a staff member. He could see my entire file if he wanted to. So embarrassing. "Right. Okay. Thank you." I spun on my heel and walked to the door.

"Taylor, right?" Chase asked. "That's your last name? So I can look it up."

I turned back, my jaw set.What the hell?Was he messing with me on purpose? Or . . . had he really forgotten my personal details?

This had to be a joke. Or a messed-up power play. He'd lived in my house. Sat in my kitchen. He'd been the one to say hi at Ranchman's, and now he was pretending he didn't know my last name? "You got it," I snapped, then threw the door open and strode into the hall.

_____

Chase didn't reach out.

The rest of the week, I checked my email in the library first thing when I arrived on campus, then before I left to go home for the evening. Nothing. By Friday, I was about ready to march back over to the ice arena and light into him, but my pride—and the rational side of me that knew if I was caught cussing out a member of administration it wouldn't look good on my student record—kept me on the south side of campus.

I breezed into the coffee shop and sat at our usual table. It was the kind of place that promised flaky croissants but delivered scones that could chip teeth. Still, we loved it—mostly for the crooked tables and the barista with the Morrissey tattoo who let Crystal play her mixtapes on the speakers when it wasn’t busy.

Shar passed me my drink, and I stirred it with the included wooden stick, aggressively not checking the time. Or thinking about the fact that I hadn’t been to the library that morning to check my email.

Crystal raised an eyebrow as she peeled the wrapper off a blueberry muffin. “You going to admit you’re spiralling, or do we need to have an intervention?”

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