Chapter 3
1255 Words
Jane
“I help you keep your secret,” Austin said, his voice calm but firm, “and you help pass my tests. Deal?”
My throat was dry. I stared at him, trying to read between the lines, but my brain was still reeling from everything that had just happened. Getting caught - completely. By the worst person. Or… maybe the best?
I didn’t know yet.
But I did know one thing.
He had leverage now.
There was no room to negotiate, no wiggle room to twist free. If I wanted to keep playing, keep training, keep this insane dream alive, I had to trust him not to say a word. And if that meant tutoring him? Fine. That was something I could do. Something I was good at.
“Fine,” I said, quieter than I meant to.
A flicker of something, satisfaction?, passed over his face. He leaned back slightly, like the tension in his shoulders had just uncoiled.
“Good,” he said. “We’ll talk more after training Monday.”
I exhaled, slowly. The deal was struck.
I turned toward the tent flap, needing fresh air. Or just distance. I couldn’t think clearly in here, with his eyes on me and the weight of the moment pressing into my chest.
But before I could unzip the flap, his voice stopped me again.
“Unless,” he said casually, “you feel like wandering into another guy’s tent in your current state.”
I turned slowly.
“What?”
He shrugged, all nonchalance. “You were drunk, remember? Stumbled in here by mistake. I don’t think you want to risk repeating that.”
My face burned. “I’m fine. I can go back.”
“To which tent?” he asked, still maddeningly casual. “Lucas’? Or Dylan’s? Or maybe Joel’s? You pick.”
I froze.
He had a point, and he knew it.
I didn’t even remember which one had been mine. And if I messed up again, if someone else caught me…
“I’m not trying to trap you,” Austin added, softer this time. “But let’s be real, you’re better off lying low for a while.”
My stomach turned. The idea of laying here, in this tent, next to him, after everything that just happened, was mortifying.
But getting exposed? That was worse.
I hated he was right. Hated that I was cornered again. But I gave a stiff nod and sat back down on the far edge of the sleeping bag, wrapping my arms around my knees.
I could feel him watching me, even as he shifted to lie back down.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then he said, “So, UMass Boston?”
I glanced at him. “Yeah.”
“Full scholarship?”
“Yeah.”
He let out a low whistle. “Smart and sneaky. Impressive.”
I didn’t answer.
Because it wasn’t a compliment. Not really.
It was a reminder that I was still one slip away from disaster.
My chest was still tight - too many layers, too much adrenaline. I pulled the hoodie tighter around me and lowered my head to my knees. I could feel the binder pressing into my ribs. It was all getting harder to wear for long stretches. But I had no choice.
A part of me still couldn’t believe this was happening. One week. One week of near-perfection - of ducking hands, dodging jokes, avoiding showers, laughing at the right times, faking sleep before locker room talk started. I had studied these guys like a wildlife documentary.
I’d mimicked James’ gait. His voice. His laugh.
I’d watched where I walked, how I stood, when I looked people in the eyes.
Every second had been a performance.
And still… I had slipped.
One beer. One wrong tent.
And now Austin knew everything.
What would Jamie say? He’d already called me insane for even trying this. “I get loving hockey,” he’d said. “But you’re risking too much.”
He was right.
But I had to try.
This camp was my only shot. I didn’t come from money. I didn’t have connections. My only leverage was skill and stubbornness. I had no idea if I could make it to the next level, but I knew this was the closest I’d ever get.
The sound of crickets buzzed softly outside the tent. A few laughs echoed in the distance, someone still lingering by the fire.
Then a different sound: footsteps approaching. Fast. Familiar.
“s**t,” Austin whispered.
He sat up in a flash and reached for me.
“What—?”
“Get down. Just trust me.”
His hand grabbed my wrist, warm and rough, and before I could react, he pulled me toward him. I stumbled forward, landing against his chest for a split second - just long enough to feel the steady, too-fast beat of his heart through the fabric of his hoodie.
Our eyes locked. His were sharper up close - steel blue and intense, focused entirely on me.
Then he moved, gently but urgently, pushing me down onto the sleeping bag and tossing the spare blanket over me. My heart pounded. His hand landed lightly on my back, fingers splayed for balance, and I froze.
“Pretend you’re asleep,” he whispered, right next to my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
The tent flap unzipped.
“Yo,” came Lucas’ voice. “You alive in here?”
Austin cleared his throat. “Barely. Trying to sleep.”
I kept my face turned away, eyes tightly shut, breath slow.
Lucas took a few steps inside. “I brought you something.” There was the clink of a metal thermos against the ground. “Herbal crap my aunt swears by. Helps with the throat.”
“Thanks,” Austin said. “Appreciate it.”
Lucas hesitated.
“You okay?” he asked. “You seemed out of it earlier.”
“I’m good,” Austin replied quickly. “Better than that guy, anyway.”
“Who?”
“The new one. Dawson. The skinny one.”
Oh no.
I tensed under the blanket.
“What happened?” Lucas asked.
“He had one beer too many and nearly passed out,” Austin said, sounding annoyed. “Didn’t know the guy couldn’t hold his liquor. He wandered into my tent all shaky, so I told him to lie down before he puked on someone.”
Lucas chuckled. “That’s on me. I handed him the drink.”
“You owe me,” Austin said. “I’m not babysitting all night. Switch tents with me later so you can deal with him.”
There was a pause. Then Lucas sighed. “Yeah, alright. Sorry, man.”
The tent flap rustled again.
“See you in the morning,” Lucas muttered.
“Night.”
And then he was gone.
I didn’t move.
Not until the flap zipped shut again, and the footsteps faded into the woods.
Austin waited another beat before pulling the blanket back.
I blinked up at him.
His face was close. Closer than it should’ve been. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, and smell the faint trace of mint and pine clinging to his hoodie. His steel-blue eyes met mine, and for the briefest second, they weren’t smug or cocky or scheming. They were just… curious.
We stared at each other. Neither of us moved.
And for a moment, I forgot to be afraid.
- Writer
