Mated To The Hockey Star

Chapter 9: An Unexpected Student

Paul Landon had always been quick to read people, and as he stepped into the library that morning, he didn’t miss the sharp flicker of surprise flashing across Stella Graham’s face. Her dark eyes widened slightly, confusion knitting her brows together as if she were trying to solve a riddle she hadn’t prepared for. The morning sun slanted through the high library windows, casting pale golden light over the rows of bookshelves and across the long oak table where Stella had already arranged her notes, textbooks, and neat stack of papers.

It was clear she had been expecting someone else—Jacob Whitaker.

Her lips parted, but for a few seconds no words came out. Paul watched her silently, keeping his usual calm expression. Stella finally placed her pen down, her voice low and taut with fatigue.

“Who are you?” she asked bluntly, folding her arms. “And what are you doing sitting there?”

Paul leaned back in the chair opposite her, crossing one leg over the other with casual ease. “Relax,” he said smoothly, “I’m not some random guy who wandered into your session. I’m your new student. You can confirm with Professor Kim if you don’t believe me.”

Stella blinked at him. The disbelief was plain on her face. “New student? I don’t tutor more than one at a time. Jacob is my assignment.”

Paul’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Well, looks like Professor Kim thought otherwise. She approved it last night. Different schedule than Jacob’s, don’t worry. I’m not replacing him.”

Stella stared at him for a long moment, her jaw tight. She looked like she wanted to argue, maybe even march straight to Professor Kim’s office and demand answers. But Paul also noticed the shadows beneath her eyes, the weary slump of her shoulders, the faint pallor to her usually bright expression. Something about her demeanor screamed exhaustion, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that left little energy for confrontation.

She finally exhaled, long and slow, then muttered, “Fine. If Kim really did approve it, I’ll tutor you. But don’t waste my time.”

Paul raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

*

Stella pulled her notebook closer, flipping to a clean page. She smoothed the paper with her palm, picked up her pen, and gestured for him to take out his math textbook. He did, though he made a mental note of just how drained she looked. Her usual sharpness seemed dulled today. Even her hair, usually neatly tied back, fell loosely over her shoulders, strands brushing her face.

Paul didn’t comment on it. Instead, he followed her lead as she began the lesson.

“Alright,” she said quietly, “let’s start with something basic. Algebraic functions. Show me what you know.”

Paul obeyed, jotting down a few equations while Stella leaned back in her chair, watching him closely. She barely interrupted, only pausing once or twice to correct his work with brief, clipped remarks.

“No—you’re supposed to distribute the negative sign here.”

“Careful. You missed a coefficient.”

“Check again. What’s the value when x equals two?”

Her voice carried no spark of patience, but not cruelty either. It was the voice of someone running on fumes, someone who had no room left to sugarcoat anything.

Paul worked steadily, partly because he wanted to make progress, but mostly because he wanted to see how long she’d keep up before completely burning out. He remembered what he’d overheard about her family responsibilities, and his suspicion grew that something might have happened this morning.

The minutes ticked by, the scratching of pencils and the rustling of paper filling the silence. The library’s vast halls echoed faintly with the sound of distant footsteps, but for the most part, they were isolated in their little corner.

Paul glanced up once, pretending to check his notes, but in reality studying Stella’s face. She looked paler than usual, her lips pressed tightly together. Even her hands trembled slightly when she turned a page.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly.

The question startled her. Her head jerked up, and she blinked rapidly, as if dragging herself back to the present moment. “What?”

“I asked if you’re okay. You look…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Tired.”

She gave a small, humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” Then she shook her head quickly, as though dismissing the concern. “Focus on your work, Paul. That’s what you’re here for.”

Paul nodded, though he kept watching her a little longer before going back to his exercises.

*

The lesson dragged on for nearly an hour. Stella’s teaching was still sharp, but the energy behind it faltered. Her explanations were shorter than usual, sometimes ending in frustrated sighs as if even speaking demanded too much effort. Still, Paul learned—more than he’d expected to in such a short time.

When the clock struck the end of the session, Stella closed her notebook with a decisive snap. “That’s enough for today.”

Paul leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “You sure? I could keep going.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I said enough.”

He didn’t push further. Instead, he packed his things neatly and rose to his feet. “Alright then. Thanks, Stella. I actually understood a lot today.”

She gave him a small nod, not quite meeting his gaze, then began gathering her own papers.

Paul paused for a moment, watching her tuck stray strands of hair behind her ear and stack her books with precision. There was something about the picture she made—strong yet fragile, exhausted yet unyielding—that caught him off guard. He pushed the thought away and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“See you around,” he said casually.

And with that, he left.

*

The walk back to his dorm was brisk, the crisp air cutting against his face as his thoughts churned. He replayed the tutoring session in his mind, her weary voice, the shadows under her eyes. Whatever burden she was carrying, it was heavier than most people their age could imagine.

He pushed open the door to his shared room, expecting to find it empty, but instead froze in his tracks.

Jacob Whitaker was sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees, staring blankly into space. His usually sharp, arrogant eyes looked distant, unfocused. The room smelled faintly of last night’s cologne and stale alcohol, remnants of the party Jacob had stumbled back from.

Paul dropped his bag onto his chair. “Jacob?”

Jacob didn’t look up at first. Then, slowly, his gaze lifted, locking onto Paul’s with an intensity that made the air in the room feel heavy.

“Where have you been?” Jacob asked, his voice low, almost hollow.

Paul stood there, caught off guard by the directness of the question. For a moment, he considered answering—telling Jacob he’d been with Stella, sitting across from her in the library, learning equations and watching her struggle through exhaustion. But something in Jacob’s expression stopped him.

The silence stretched between them.

Finally, Paul turned away, pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto his bed. He didn’t say a word.

Jacob’s eyes followed him, narrowing slightly, but Paul remained quiet.

And in that silence, the tension grew.

*

Jacob sat there, staring at Paul’s back, questions burning in his chest. But Paul said nothing. Not one explanation, not one detail. And as Jacob leaned back slowly against the wall, his mind spiraled.

Where had Paul really been?

Why did he look so calm, almost purposeful, like he’d just done something Jacob should know about?

Jacob clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin. And yet, he didn’t press further.

Not yet.

The unanswered question hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Jacob’s thoughts spun with uneasy suspicion.