Page 29 of Face Off
“And yet,” he says, leaning back just slightly, “here we are. Still talking.”
Time slips by too fast. We leave the café reluctantly, the air outside buzzing with city noise. I check my watch, less than an hour passed, and yet it feels like a stolen world of quiet and mischief.
He walks me toward the office door, stepping lightly, but I notice the slight shift again on his left side, his hip still dictating small compensations in his stride.
“You heading back to the studio?” he asks.
“Yes. I’ve got notes to finish, articles to draft. The boss wants me thorough.”
His expression darkens briefly, almost thoughtful. “That’s… a lot of pressure.”
“It is,” I admit, not embellishing. But I don’t tell him the full truth, about the investment, the strings, the invisible leash myfather keeps on every step I take. That’s mine to bear. He doesn’t need it. Not yet.
He nods, and then, mischievous again, “Well, I expect you’ll write about the Raptors like a pro. But you can still sneak in a little observation of me.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Professionalism comes first.”
He winks. “I’ll remember that. Until next time, Professional Chloe.”
And just like that, he’s gone, blended back into the city crowd, leaving me with racing thoughts, a fluttering heart, and the impossible task of staying at the top of my own game while feeling more alive than I have in months.
I head back to the studio, heels clicking, pen ready, notes scattered across the desk. And every time I glance down at my notebook, I see him, his grin, the way his shoulders shift when he’s hiding discomfort, the way he’s becoming impossible to ignore.
Work mask firmly on. Heart, quietly chaotic underneath, secretly thrilled.
And I remind myself again why it matters so much: my father’s investment, my chance to prove I’m capable, my shot at being more than just a scandalous headline.
But now, with Ollie Taylor in the mix, it feels like a different kind of challenge. One I’m suddenly eager to accept.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OLLIE
The rink smells of ice and effort, as soon as I step into the facility. My skates hit the floor, and I can feel the tension of the day already pressing against my shoulders.
“Morning, boys,” Jacko says, voice calm but authoritative, already running through the day’s drills in his head. Dylan’s eyes are half-lidded, his expression unreadable as always, and Murphy is grumbling under his breath about everything from the new training regime to someone stealing his water bottle last week.
I stretch, letting the ache in my left hip whisper reminders of its stubbornness. Every day it’s the same game, push past the discomfort, hide the weakness, smile, joke, and make sure the guys never see me falter.
And then there’s Chloe.
I can’t stop thinking about her. The connection at the café yesterday, the way she laughed at my bad jokes, the way her eyes seem to read right through me, even in the middle of chaos, she’s there, in my head. Observant. Dangerous.
“Ollie!” Jacko’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Focus.”
“Right,” I mutter, shaking myself loose, gliding toward the drills.
The first set of suicides hits like a hammer. Dylan’s wall-like presence dominates the ice, Murphy’s intensity is palpable, Jacko is the calm anchor, and I, well, I’ve got fire, speed, and stubborn pride. And as always, I can’t let the guys see the mental drift that Chloe causes. Not here, not now.
During a brief water break, Murphy leans against the boards, towel over his shoulder, grinning despite the morning drills. “Oi, Ollie, you’ve got that look,” he says, eyes narrowing, mischievous. “Like you’re planning something. Don’t tell me it’s another sabotage attempt on Dylan’s ego?”
I snort, shaking my head. “Nah. Just thinking.”
Murphy raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Thinking about your next date, are we? Or Tabloid Girl schemes?”
I stiffen slightly but cover it with a grin. “Maybe thinking about hockey.”
“Sure,” Murphy mutters, smirking, knowing full well he’s called me out but letting it slide. That’s Murphy for you, banter, ego, and just enough trust to make teasing feel like affection.
