Non ex not accepted

The team captain

SIERRA.

A year was long enough to teach me how to stop expecting people to stay. I had buried myself in school, journalism, and every small task that kept my mind too busy to remember what Dad had done or what Hugo had said. I helped Mom when I could, even when she still struggled with drinking, and I learned to check the house before going to bed so I could quietly remove any bottles she had left where I might see them the next morning. Jonah and I had become almost like strangers, and somewhere along the way, I decided that love was simply another word for giving someone a weapon.

That Friday had been horrible.

I had spent the entire afternoon writing an article for the university newspaper while trying to finish a research paper at the same time. By the time I shut my laptop, my eyes were burning, my shoulders hurt, and I had three missed calls from Mom that I was afraid to return. I was reaching for my bag when Cassie appeared beside my desk with two coats over her arm and an expression that told me she had already made a decision for both of us. She tossed one coat at me.

"You're coming with me."

I stared at her.

"Where?"

"Out."

"I have work."

"You always have work."

"I need to finish an article."

Cassie folded her arms.

"And I need my best friend to remember that she is actually twenty years old and not a forty-year-old woman who owns three newspapers."

I laughed despite myself.

"That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

She grabbed my hand.

"Come on, Sierra. Just one night of fun won't hurt.”

I should have said no.

Instead, I followed her.

The bar was louder than anywhere I had been in months, with music shaking the walls and people talking over one another while colored lights moved across the crowded room. I felt uncomfortable almost immediately, but Cassie refused to let me hide in a corner with my phone. She ordered drinks, pulled me onto the dance floor, and spent the first hour making me laugh at things that were not even funny. I drank more than I normally did, partly because I wanted to relax and partly because I wanted my head to become quiet.

For one night, I did not want to think about Mom. I did not want to think about Jonah. I did not want to think about Dad. And most of all, I did not want to think about Hugo.

"You look happier," Cassie shouted over the music.

I smiled.

"Maybe I am."

"Finally!”

She lifted her glass.

"To new beginnings."

I touched my glass against hers.

"To new beginnings."

Later, when Cassie disappeared to talk to someone she knew, I found myself standing alone near the bar. That was when I noticed him. He sat at the far end, dressed in a dark shirt with his sleeves rolled up, looking completely disconnected from the loud crowd around him.

He wasn't laughing.

He wasn't dancing.

He wasn't talking to anyone.

He was just sitting there with a drink in front of him, staring into the crowd like he was waiting for the night to end.

Then his eyes met mine, and I looked away. A few seconds later, I looked back.

He was still watching me.

He eventually stood and walked over.

"You're hiding."

I raised an eyebrow.

"So are you."

A small smile touched his lips.

"Fair."

He leaned against the bar beside me.

"Bad night?"

"Long week."

"Same."

I looked at him.

"Do you always talk to strangers?"

"Only the interesting ones."

I laughed softly.

"That's a terrible line."

“Is it working, though?” he asked, his eyes fixed on me. “Do you think you're an interesting stranger?”

I felt heat rush up my cheeks.

I should have walked away.

Instead, I stayed.

We talked for hours, although I never told him anything important about myself. He didn't ask about my family, and I didn't ask about his. We were strangers, and somehow that made everything easier. I didn't have to explain why I hated promises or why I didn't trust people, and he didn't have to know that beneath the confident woman sitting beside him was someone who had spent years trying to put herself back together.

Much, much later, when he leaned closer, I did not move away.

His lips crashed into mine and the kiss began slowly at first, his tongue prising my lips open as it explored my mouth. For a split second, my head went blank and I thought of nothing else but this moment—this kiss, the man in front of me, and the burning sensation I felt coursing through my veins as I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer.

The kiss became deeper and hotter soon afterwards, and rhe rest of the night became a blur of music and choices I knew I would never normally make. I knew it was reckless, but for once, I wanted to do something simply because I wanted it. There were no promises between us, no names written into my future, and no chance of waking up the next morning expecting him to save me.

When morning came, I was already gone.

I left before he woke, taking my clothes and quietly slipping out of the hotel room. I did not leave my number, my social media, or anything that could lead him back to me. I did not even leave a note.

For once, I had made a decision entirely for myself. Maybe it was foolish, but it was mine.

By midday, I woke with a headache and a strange sense of freedom. I made coffee, opened my laptop, and started scrolling through the latest hockey news while trying to remember where I had left my phone charger. Then a headline caught my attention.

BRUCE SAGE LEADS UNIVERSITY HOCKEY TEAM INTO NEW SEASON.

I almost ignored it.

Then I saw the photograph, and my fingers froze against the screen.

The man in the picture had the same dark eyes, the same strong jaw, and the same quiet expression as the stranger from the night before. My stomach dropped so suddenly that I nearly dropped the phone.

"No."

I zoomed in.

His name was written beneath the photograph.

Bruce Sage — Team Captain.

I stared at the picture, and the memory of last night came rushing back.

His voice.

His smile.

His hands.

The way he had looked at me. The way his hands had held me. The way he had kissed me. The way we both breathed hard as we found ourselves in one of the guest rooms at the club before we even knew it.

I swallowed hard.

"This can't be him."

I searched his name.

More photographs appeared.

Bruce Sage was not some random student or stranger I would never see again. He was the captain of the university hockey team, one of the most famous players on campus, and someone whose face appeared everywhere because the season was about to begin.

My heart sank, and I slammed my palm against my face in regret.

I stared at the photograph again.

He was going to be on my campus, and probably even in the same places where I spent every part of my day.

I pressed my fingers against my forehead, making a silent prayer and whispering the only thing I could think of.

"Please don't let it be him.”