The Girl In All-Boy Hockey Team

Chapter 9

Jane

It was amazing how quickly the euphoria of maybe feeling wanted could curdle into doubt once I had a little space to think. The next morning, I woke up bleary-eyed, my pillow stuck to my face from dried sweat, and all I could do was stare at the ceiling and replay the week like a game film I had to analyze.

I had tried to push away Mia’s stupid grin and her conspiratorial “Maybe he likes you.” I had tried to forget the way his fingers brushed my sleeve outside the rink, the way his voice went soft even when he was annoyed. But those things clung to me like burrs.

And with every passing hour, they felt less like reassurance and more like traps. Because the more I let myself think about them, the more I remembered who he really was. Austin Rivers. Boston University’s golden boy. Center. Star forward. Team clown and team captain rolled into one.

He was the kind of guy who could have anything he wanted. A guy with connections. Money. Coaches who actually paid attention when he talked. He wasn’t like me. He didn’t need to cheat the system. If his grades slipped, there was always a tutor ready to help. Hell, he could pay someone. That was the part that burned worst. He didn’t have to pick me. But he did.

And that made me suspicious all over again. Because what if this was some stupid game to him? What if it was some rich-kid prank, some way to make the desperate scholarship kid squirm? I hated that I couldn’t be sure. I hated that I was still going to his house anyway.

I stood outside the address he’d texted me, staring up at it like it was a monument to everything I didn’t belong to. It wasn’t the biggest house I’d ever seen, but it was nice. Too nice. Two stories of tidy brick and freshly painted trim. Big windows with warm golden light spilling out onto a manicured lawn.

I shifted my ratty backpack on my shoulder and stuffed my cold fingers into my sleeves, my chest binder feeling too tight under my hoodie. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I should turn around and figure out a way to handle this myself. Pretend I was too busy. That I didn’t need this deal.

But then I remembered the way Coach had looked at me last practice. The way my legs burned running laps. Austin running beside me. Silent. Just there. I ground my teeth and marched up to the door before I could think better of it.

I raised my fist to knock, then hesitated, listening to the muffled sounds inside. A woman’s laugh. Glass clinking. Some show on TV. Normal. Family. Not for me.

I knocked anyway.

The door swung open so fast I was startled. A woman about my mom’s age stood there. Blonde, shoulder-length curls framing her face, a pair of soft hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with surprise. She wore a pale sweater that looked softer than anything I owned and elegant earrings that caught the light.

“Hi!” she said brightly, already smiling like she’d been waiting for me.

I blinked. “Um. Hi. I’m—”

Before I could finish, she beamed wider. “Oh! You must be James. Austin’s friend. He told me you were coming over tonight.”

James. Right. I swallowed hard.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

Her eyes softened even more, if that was possible. “Well, it’s freezing out here. Come in, come in. Don’t stand on ceremony. I’m Lisa, by the way - Austin’s mother.”

I hesitated, but she was already pulling the door wider, waving me in with that unstoppable suburban mom energy. Inside, it smelled like cinnamon and something baking. The living room was warm and full of tidy clutter - books stacked on end tables, cozy throws folded on a couch I didn’t dare sit on. Family pictures on the mantle. Austin as a baby. Austin in hockey gear, half his teeth missing but grinning proudly. Austin with another man—his father, I guessed—stiff and formal, hand on his shoulder.

I tried not to stare. Lisa was already helping me off with my coat before I realized what was happening.

“Here,” she said, hanging it on the polished rack. “Make yourself comfortable. Austin’s upstairs changing. He’ll be right down. Do you want tea? Hot chocolate? You must be freezing!”

I was so overwhelmed I barely managed to shake my head. “I’m good, thank you.”

She tsked. “You boys, always too tough to admit you’re cold. Sit. Sit.”

I perched awkwardly on the very edge of the couch, backpack in my lap, trying to make myself as small as possible. I felt so out of place it hurt.

She watched me for a moment, eyes soft. “Thank you for helping him, you know,” she said gently. “Austin’s a good boy, but he can be a bit… scattered.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Sure. Scattered. I just nodded.

“He’s lucky to have such a good friend.”

My chest twisted. Friend. Right. That was the lie we were selling. And I hated how much it hurt to hear it.

Austin clattered down the stairs before I had to answer. He was in a clean T-shirt and sweatpants, hair still damp from the shower. He was so relaxed, so at home in this space that it made something in my chest ache.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and casual.

I didn’t answer right away. Because the second he looked at me, his whole face shifted. He smirked. But his eyes flickered down to my hands, my lap, my slouched posture. He read me like a playbook.

“Mom,” he said, tilting his head toward me. “This is James. My good friend. He’s helping me study so I don’t fail out and ruin your social standing.”

Lisa swatted him lightly on the arm. “Don’t talk like that.”

He winked at her and then turned to me. “Come on, genius. Upstairs.”

I stood too fast, my bag thumping against my leg. Lisa watched us with that soft, amused smile as we passed. But Austin didn’t give me time to dwell on it. He draped an arm around my shoulders, steering me toward the stairs like it was the most natural thing in the world. I stiffened immediately. He didn’t seem to notice - or didn’t care. He just leaned in and whispered against my ear, voice warm and teasing.

“Play along, Dawson. Don’t get me disowned on a school night.”

My heart slammed so hard against my ribs I thought he’d feel it. I swallowed, forcing myself to nod. Because what choice did I have? His fingers squeezed once, firm and reassuring, before he guided me up the steps. I tried to ignore the heat crawling up my neck. Tried to ignore the smell of his soap, clean and sharp and unmistakably Austin. Tried to ignore the stupid, hopeless part of me that wanted his arm to stay there. Because this was the deal. This was the cost of the secret. Pretend. Play along.

And if it hurt? If it felt too good? That was just something I’d have to deal with on my own.