Page 13 of Ice Cold, Red Hot
“All right. Get a good night’s sleep. Practice hard this week and let’s see something good on Thursday against Jackson U.”
“Right.”
Dad hung up.
My family didn’t do the mushy sign off. No “I love you” for the Renshaws. Maybe from my mom after a few glasses of chardonnay. Somehow that never felt totallysincere. I think she loved the wine. Still not sure about me.
I finished the beer, brushed my teeth and went to bed.
The next morning I was up early for psych lab. The only section I could get into was Friday mornings at eight, which was a time slot I’d managed to avoid for four years until now. But the lab was a required part of the last psych class I needed for my degree, and the other sections were full when I finally registered. So I rolled through the kitchen to make an enormous cup of coffee and then headed out of the building to campus.
The sun was shining brightly, which helped chase away some of the lingering anger I’d taken to bed the night before.
It didn’t matter what anyone else thought—even my dad. What mattered was that I accomplished my goals. On my own. I’d get to the NHL, I was sure of that. But not because of my name. Not because of who my brother was or because my grandfather bought my way in. I’d get there because of who I am, what I am inside. And I’d do it with a degree in my hand that would allow me a backup plan after hockey.
My head was on right and my mood was high when I stepped into the little room where my section was being held. There was a long table in the center of the room with chairs on either side, and five or six other students were already there. I nodded hello to John Stork, another guy on the team, and took the chair next to him.
“Sup,” he said.
I was about to answer when the door to the room opened once more and Celeste walked in.
“Hi guys, apologies for being a couple minutes late. I’m Celeste Moreno, your TA…” Celeste trailed off when she turned and saw me sitting at the table. Her eyes held mine for a long beat and then she cleared her throat. “I’ll be guiding you through a variety of research studies and helping you select a project to present at the end of the semester. We’ll work on your projects together in lab each week, and I can offer hands-on support where needed.”
“Hands-on support, yes please,” Stork whispered in my ear before letting out a laugh that made me want to punch him.
“Shut it,” I bit back.
Celeste’s eyes slid across me again, and I felt it like a physical touch.
Fuck. I couldn’t be in her section. And I couldn’t skip section, or I’d fail this class…
I bit the inside of my lip for the rest of the hour as Celeste walked back and forth in front of us, her perfect ass on display in a pair of tight dark jeans. She had on a button down shirt that looked completely professional with them, but I couldn’t stop picturing her this summer—short shorts and a bikini top, falling into my arms on the dock looking over the lake as the sun set.
When she finally dismissed us, I moved out of the chair like a spring had ejected me, and I was out the door and halfway to the administration building before I even caught my breath. I had to switch sections. There was no way I’d survive being that close to her, having to talk to her, having her be my fucking teacher all semester.
The woman behind the registration desk shook her head and gave me a dramatic frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Renshaw, all the other sections are full.”
“It’s one spot,” I said. “I’ll literally take any other time. Anything.”
She smiled sympathetically. “I really am sorry. Everything’s full.”
“Thanks,” I managed before storming out of the office.
I thought of Celeste all the time as it was. This was not going to make things better.
CHAPTER 7
CELESTE
“Are you sure I can’t take a different section?” I was finding it very difficult to convince Dr. Gunning to move me out of the Friday morning section since I couldn’t tell her the real reason why I didn’t want to teach it.
“Is it the schedule?” Dr. Gunning asked. “We could maybe push it back to nine if there’s not another lab after yours. I can check…”
“No, no. That’s not it. You know what? Never mind. It’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Dr. Gunning was already pulling up room schedules on her desktop.
“No, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll make it work.” I had no idea how I was going to make seeing Shepherd glaring at me for an hour every week work at all. But I didn’t have a choice, and he wasn’t going to screw up school for me. I’d have to figure out a way to become immune to his… whatever it was.
