Page 3 of Cloudless
I’m practically giddy as my eyes lift to the front of the room. A meticulously laid out plan on a single sheet of paper is exactly what I need to set my life back on track.
I can’t keep the smile from my face as two printer-warmed papers land in my hands. A throat clearing next to me has the papers floating to the floor like a leaf from a tree as I nearly jump out of my seat. I can hear the laugh in the stranger’s deep voice as he shifts in his seat at the end of the row. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I lift my eyes from the scattered papers on the floor to find a hulk of a man sitting at the end of my row. A Summit State University hat sits so low over his eyes that I can hardly see them. “Oh, um, it’s alright. I just didn’t see you there.”
His smile shines brightly with the dim lighting of the overhead lights that doesn’t quite reach the corners of the room. “I’m not surprised, seeing as you ran in here like your ass was on fire.”
I’m thankful for the dim lighting that conceals my blush. The ends of the ribbon holding my ponytail in place fall over my shoulder as I lean forward to get the two papers off the floor. My voice falls to a whisper as I say, “Rough morning.”
His seat groans under him as his shoulders shift toward me. “Well, you know what they say about rough mornings?” I shake my head as I dust off the floor crumbs from our papers. “The roughest mornings can turn into the brightest days. All it takes is a little sunshine.”
I furrow my brows as I hand him his slightly dented syllabus. “I’ve never heard that before.”
The cockiest smirk I’ve ever seen pulls at his lips as he takes the paper from my outstretched hand. “Probably because I just made it up.”
My ponytail sways behind me as I shake my head. A reluctant smile touches my lips as I say, “You are so full of shit.”
He shrugs as he places his paper on the notebook in front of him. “Maybe, but I made you smile.”
Heat envelopes my face as my thumb strokes over the face of my mom's watch on my wrist. The cool glass feels smooth against my overheated skin.
I jump as Professor Mills clears his throat next to me. His crossed arms and raised brows have me sinking down into my seat. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but some in this room are here to learn.”
The creaking of a seat at the end of the row draws the professor's eyes away from my overheated face. “Sorry, Professor Mills. It was my fault. She was just being a good sport and helping me out with the syllabus.”
Professor Mills’ arms fall to his sides as he lets out a tired breath. “Don’t let it happen again, Mr. Stryker.”
The professor’s footsteps fade as my eyes fall to the man next to me. His smile grows as he takes in my wide eyes. His eyes fall to my lips as I mouth,thank you.
With the dip of his chin, his eyes return to the front of the room. His hands dwarf the notebook in front of him as he pulls a pen out of the notebook rings. The click of his pen feels far louder than it should in the quiet space.
The gentle scratching of his pen on paper produces a calming melody that soothes my racing heart; a melody that not even the glitter from my fluffy, pink pen scratching against my skin can take away.
CHAPTER 2
SHIT LIST
KAM
A sense of calm settles over me as the slam of the door echoes through the hall. The thin blanket of chill bumps and the slight burn of my eyes from the cold air of the hockey rink are a welcome reprieve on this warm Saturday morning.
Wide-eyed seven to nine-year-olds fill the rink. Their eyes are on a constant swivel as they watch my teammates set up for drills.
Hosting this camp as a team every year is the perfect start to our season. Being surrounded by the innocence of a child, who is here only because of their love for the game, always puts me in the best mindset going into our first practices.
It’s also a great way to bond with the new guys on the team.
The front bench groans under my weight as I sit to lace up my skates. The incessant buzzing of a few overhead lights and the stale smell of mold betray the age of Summit Hills' local rink.
Childhood memories flash through my mind as I look around the cavernous space. Saturday mornings with my sister learning to skate, Friday night practices for the local rec league during the summers, and some of the few good memories I had with my dad when he wasn’t drunk off his ass.
Nearby whispers draw me from my memories.
“Kam is here!”
“I was hoping he would be here.”
“Do you think I can get him to sign my stick?”
