Chapter 2
1207 Words
Austin
I should’ve stayed in bed.
The fever had broken two days ago, but the dizziness still came in waves, especially when I stood too fast or forgot to eat. Still, Lucas wouldn’t let it go. “C’mon, man. It’s one night. You need fresh air.” I knew what he meant - team bonding, drinking around the fire, another excuse to joke and flex and pretend none of us were scared of the scouts watching us this summer.
I wasn’t in the mood for pretending.
The truth was, I was already skating on thin ice - and not the kind I could carve through with my usual flair. Coach Gilbert had said nothing directly, but I saw the look in his eyes during our last meeting. The warning had been there, thick and silent. One more bad exam. One more failed class. One more reason for the department to pull my eligibility.
I’d tried tutoring. Twice. Neither stuck. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t memorize. I could thread a puck through a forest of legs on instinct, but couldn’t sit through a lecture without zoning out. Hockey made sense. School didn’t. And if I lost hockey…
I had no idea who I’d be.
So, yeah. I came to the campfire, smiled through the noise, even downed a beer or two. But as the flames blurred, and the conversations dissolved into static, I slipped away and headed back to my tent. My head throbbed. My limbs ached. I needed to lie down, just for a bit.
The tent smelled faintly like pine needles and sweat. Familiar, grounding. I kicked off my shoes, tugged my hoodie tighter, and curled into the sleeping bag. The hum of crickets outside was almost hypnotic. The tension in my chest eased, just a little.
Until the zipper rustled.
I frowned.
Someone ducked into the tent, stumbling against the edge of the fabric like they couldn’t see straight. Great. Another drunk teammate lost their way. I stayed still, hoping they’d realize the mistake and leave.
But then came the muttering.
“Dodged a bullet again,” a voice mumbled. It was deep, but something about the tone caught me off guard. It cracked. Almost too soft.
I turned my head slightly, squinting.
The figure sat down hard on the sleeping bag beside me. Hoodie sleeves were pushed up. The person tugged at their shirt, clumsily working it over their head. The shirt stuck at the elbows before finally coming free - and that’s when I saw it.
My breath hitched.
Wrapped tightly across a flat chest was a sports bra.
What the—
My heart slammed into my ribs.
My mind jumped ahead of my body. I sat up.
She saw me.
We stared at each other - her eyes wide with horror, mine still trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
And then she opened her mouth to scream.
Without thinking, I lunged forward and clamped my hand over her mouth.
“Shhh,” I whispered. “Stop. Just… don’t.”
Her whole body was stiff beneath my hand. She smelled like pine and sweat and something clean, like citrus shampoo. Her eyes were glassy, probably from whatever she drank earlier, but they locked on mine with razor-sharp fear.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” I added, softer this time. “Just breathe.”
She gave a tiny nod.
I loosened my grip, let my hand drop. Neither of us moved.
Now that I could really see her, I noticed the details. The sharp line of her jaw. The tiny scar on her chin. The way her short hair stuck to her forehead, just slightly mussed. Her shoulders were lean but strong - skater shoulders. But her face? No question.
She was a girl.
And not just any girl.
I recognized her. Kind of.
We hadn’t officially met, but I’d seen her - him? - around the rink earlier in the week. The kid who always slipped away before changing. The one who kept to the edge of every huddle. Fast on the ice, quiet off it. “Dawson,” someone had said. “New guy from UMass Boston.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Dawson?”
She flinched. “Yeah?”
“James Dawson?”
A hesitation. “Yeah. James.”
I c****d my head. “You sure about that?”
Her lips pressed into a flat line. She didn’t answer.
“Okay, so maybe not James.” I exhaled. “Start talking. Who are you really?”
Her shoulders drooped a little. She looked exhausted. Like someone who’d been carrying something too heavy for too long. “Jane,” she said finally. “My name is Jane Dawson. Jamie is my twin brother.”
That clicked more than I wanted to admit.
Twins. That explained the name. The face. The build.
“You’re seriously training with us as - what, undercover?” I asked.
She looked down. “It’s not like that.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I just… I needed the opportunity. UMass doesn’t have a real hockey program. This summer camp is all I have. And they wouldn’t have let me in if I told the truth.”
“You think?” I muttered, half to myself. “You’re on a team full of guys.”
“That’s why I don’t shower there. That’s why I go home after practice. That’s why I keep my head down.” Her voice rose, defensive now. “I didn’t come here to mess with anyone. I came to play.”
I believed her.
I didn’t want to - but I did.
Because I saw the fire in her eyes. The same desperation that kept me up at night. She was clinging to this dream just as hard as I was.
A long pause.
Then I asked, “What school did you say you were from?”
“UMass Boston,” she said slowly. “Why?”
I blinked.
UMass Boston had a reputation. Not for their hockey program - but for their academics. Hard courses. Tough grading curves. Not the place for slackers.
“You get good grades?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”
“Like… really good?”
“I’m on a full academic scholarship,” she said with a puzzled look.
That gave me pause.
I sat back, something churning in my brain. The pieces started to slide into place.
Grades. Tutoring. Academic probation. And now, a secret big enough to ruin her shot at this camp.
I glanced at her again. She looked ready to bolt.
“I’m not gonna say anything,” I said.
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m not telling anyone. Not about this.” I waved vaguely at her chest, her hoodie, the whole secret. “But you’re gonna do something for me.”
She tensed. “Like what?”
“You’re gonna help me pass.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Pass what?”
“Everything.” I grinned, the first genuine grin all day. “You’re gonna tutor me.”
She stared at me like I was crazy.
“I help you keep your secret,” I said, “and you help pass my tests. Deal?”
- Writer
