PUCKING HATE YOU!

CH 2: UNIVERSITY’S RECOMMENDATION.

*****Xavier

“What is your name?” The words came out too gentle for my liking.

And for the next few seconds, the girl just simply stood there and was staring at me as if she was figuring me out completely if I'm a joke she should laugh at or if talking to me was worth her time.

Interesting!

Most students don't actually hesitate if I'm talking to them, especially not after a university event. They usually smile and quickly introduce themselves and try by all means to keep the conversation going longer than necessary. But this girl in front of me? She looked offended that I had even approached her.

“I know my name,” she said. “And I'm just wondering why you need it.”

Wow? I almost laughed. Like almost, because this attitude was quite impressive. Students continued filling out of the auditorium one after the other behind her, and a few of them slowed when they noticed us standing together.

The hockey captain and the girl who had challenged him.

Right?

Because apparently, that looks entertaining for real.

“Because you asked a question,” I finally looked down at her, my gaze leveling with her height.

“Almost a hundred people asked a question right there…” her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Not like yours,” the reply came faster than intended.

Her eyes narrowed again, checking for what I didn't know. As if she was trying to check it that was supposed to be a compliment.

“I'm Anna,” she finally said.

The name settled instantly. Anna. The name kinda fit her for some reason.

“Xavier,” I said too.

She deadpanned. “Really? I had no idea!”

There she goes again. That her usual sarcasm, but it actually made me laugh this time. A very humorless laugh and the look on her face says she hadn't expected that laugh.

“Good night, Anna, I hope your grades fight as hard as your mouth does okay?”

She blinked twice. Clearly, it wasn't the kind of response she was prepared for. Good.

I turned my back to her and headed towards the parking lot before the conversation became even stranger. Yet, as I unlocked my truck, I somehow found myself thinking about her question again from earlier. Fury was already clouding my thoughts. Athletes get treated differently? Well, maybe they do and maybe they don't. But either way, she had truly believed that statement and that's what bothered me more than anything else.

*****

The next morning started at exactly five thirty, as my alarm bled across the room making me to silence it almost immediately. Darkness still covered most of the campus outside and inside, my apartment literally looked like a war zone. Laundry. Hockey gear. Protein containers. And some textbooks that I should have opened some weeks ago.

I pulled out my practice clothes and headed out and by six thirty, I was already on the ice. The lights on the arena reflected off the surface as players skated through the drills.

Coach Reynolds stood near the boards and was just watching everyone, basically waiting for someone to screw up. And guess what? It didn't take long before— “Move your feet,” his voice echoed through the arena. “Do you think that scouts want lazy?”

Nobody answered because nobody was stupid. I tightened my grip and pushed harder through the nearby drill. The season hadn't started yet, but the pressure was already suffocating. NHL scouts were coming and sponsors were watching so the university basically expected good results. While the team expected leadership, everybody wanted something good, and somehow, I was expected to carry all of it without dropping anything.

The whistle finally shrieked making practice to pause, and unfortunately, that was what gave my teammates the opportunity to start talking.

“Hey captain,” came from my back and I already know that tone—Ambrose Carter. The only pain in my ass.

I didn't turn to look at him at all. “What is it?”

“So tell me, did you get her number?” He teased and several nearby players quickly burst out laughing.

I closed my eyes for a moment, here we go again! “What the hell are you talking about?”

“That girl of course,” he stretched, making more laughter erupt through the pitch. “The one who publicly challenged your entire existence.”

I quietly grabbed a water bottle. “Shut the f**k up and get back to practice dude.”

“Oh, he's defensive,” he said, looking at everyone with a wide grin.

“That's not defensive.”

“It definitely sounds defensive.”

I slowly took a drink from the bottle, patiently, considering murder already.

Ambrose's grin widened. “But damn! She was so cute.”

“I said you should get back to practice already,” I casted him a blank stare.

“Definitely cute for real,” he added.

“Ambrose! Practice!”

“Fiery too,” he added again stretching his hands.

I finally threw my water bottle furiously at him. But damn it! He caught it, I wished it would have knocked some sense into his head.

The entire team erupted into laughter again. “Captain likes the angered girl,” someone screamed between them.

“Shut the f**k up okay?” my voice snapped.

The fact that it even made them laugh harder made me suddenly realized my mistake. Because now, they knew they've finally gotten a weak point from me—Anna’s challenge. And a thing with hockey players was that they were basically sharks when it comes to things like this.

Oh God! Help me.

Their laugher lasted for another thirty seconds before Coach Reynold's whistle finally caught through the arena. “Enough!” and everywhere instantly fell silent as the team scattered back into their position.

Even Ambrose knew better than to test Coach whenever he used that voice.

Practice resumed and for the next few hours nobody had the time to joke as the Coach worked us harder than usual. Every mistakes were cancelled and every missed pass were corrected. My jersey was fully soaked by the time we finished, my legs burn like hell and my lungs felt like they were in fire. All this was exactly how the coach liked it.

“Thorne,” his deep voice called and I looked up. Coach stood near the board waiting and watching. Great! “With me,” his voice echoed.

A few teammates nearby looked at me sympathetically because that was never a good sign. I skated towards the coach who stood straight and folded his arms.

“You're distracted today?”

“No,” I bowed my head.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Aee you sure?”

“Yes, Coach.”

He studied me for a moment and released a sigh. “You know that scouts are coming next month right?”

“I know.”

“And you know this season matters.”

“I know.”

“And you also know this team follows your lead.”

“I know.”

Then Coach finally moved and stepped very close. “Then start acting like it.”

Those words hit harder than they should have, not because they were unfair, but because they were very true. I was captain, and that responsibility should not disappear because I was tired or stressed, or distracted by some stubborn girl who asks uncomfortable questions.

The Coach headed towards the exit. “Get cleaned up.”

“Yes, Coach.”

Before I moved towards the locker room, his voice stopped me one last time. “And Thorne?”

I turned and looked at him.

“Whatever is in your head, better leave it there,” his voice sharpened. Then he left.

The locker room was silent after practice because most of the players were too exhausted to talk but unfortunately,not for Ambrose. I had barely sat down before he hurriedly dropped into the bench beside me.

“Coach yellrd at you?” He asked.

“No… why?”

“Liar.”

I just ignored him as he grinned.

“He definitely yelled at you.”

I silently dragged down a towel and hit it on his face, not hard enough, then he pulled it away and laughed so hard.

“You know what's actually funny?” He asked.

“No.”

“You're still thinking about her.”

I slammed my locker harder than necessary and that only made Ambrose's grin to widened. Damn it!

“You're obsessed.”

“Hell no, I'm not.”

“Then what's her name?”

I opened my mouth halfway but shut it back. Because I knew it, immediately. Anna. Without thinking, and apparently, my silence gave everything away.

Ambrose clapped a hand on his mouth and pointed one at me dramatically. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You know her name?”

I stood up straight, staring blankly at Ambrose. “Goodbye, Ambrose.”

And Ambrose? His laughter followed me all the way until I was out of the locker room.

Mostly everyone in the campus was already enjoying their day by afternoon. And as for me? I wasn't! Because I was now sitting in Advanced Economics busy thinking about how I had fall behind this badly. .

And the answer was obvious.

Hockey of course. It's all been about hockey, travelling, training, meetings, games and being captain. And somewhere in the middle of all that, academics had already started to slip away. It wasn't enough to panic, but yet, it's enough to notice.

My jaw tightened again as I looked at the grade displayed on my online portal, and it wasn't good at all. It's not giving captain material enough and absolutely not something the university will forever ignore.

My phone buzzed immediately, and a message appeared quickly.

DEAN HARRIS: “Come and see me immediately.”

Great! Because that didn't possibly mean anything is good.

I was already at the dean's office twenty minutes later. The secretary smiled politely at me. “He's expecting you,” he said.

Damn it! Of course he was. I finally knocked at the door before entering and found Dean Harris seated behind a large wooden desk. And the moment he looked up was when I instantly knew this wasn't a social visit.

His expression was totally serious and concerned. “Have a seat Xavier.”

I obeyed, the office suddenly felt warmer. Then he folded his hands. “Do you know why you're here?”

“No.”

He reached for a folder. “Your grades.”

Good. There it was. I leaned back and the dean opened the folder.

“You've always maintained acceptable academic standing.”

That word—acceptable, didn't inspire confidence at all.

“But recently,” he continued, while tapping on a document. “Theres been a decline.”

I just remained silent because arguing with numbers won't do a thing.

The dean sighed and continued. “Youre one of the university's most visible students. And your academic performance reflects on the institution.”

I finally nodded.

“I need to be sure you can balance both responsibilities.”

I nodded again. “I can.”

He studied me for a moment longer than necessary and then finally, something unexpected happened… he smiled. It wasn't warm and cold but just a knowing smile. Like there was already a solution and I was already not liking it at all.

He slowly reached for another file again and slid it across the desk stopping directly in front of me.

“What is this sir?” I knitted my brows in confusion.

“A recommendation.”

I slowly opened it, at first I only saw grades— excellent grades, then academic awards, then scholarship achievement, and then pre-med track. Ranking—top students. Impressing. Then my eyes finally reached the name.

Guess who?

Anna Bennett.

I genuinely thought I was imagining it at first, but there it was, right before me—Anna Bennett. That girl from the auditorium, same person who had challenged me and completely thinks I represent everything wrong in the university.

I slowly looked up towards the dean who had been carefully watching my reaction.

“Do you know her?”

A small laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Of course I knew her. Or… I knew literally enough.

The dean finally leaned back. “Anna Bennett is going to participate in the university's academic mentorship initiative. Given her academic record, she's one of our best recommendations.”

I looked down one more time at the file again,then back at the dean, and then back at the file. This was a very terrible idea if it's what I'm thinking already. This is the kind of idea that looks perfect on paper and exploded in reality.

Dean Harris finally smiled. “Starting from the coming week, Anna Bennett would be your academic tutor.”

Silence filled the room then a humorless laugh escaped me. Because if there was one person on this whole campus who I want nothing to do with and who also wants nothing to do with me…

Then it was definitely Anna Bennett.