Chapter 14
1252 Words
Ivy
An obnoxiously loud ringtone exploded right beside my ear.
I shot upright with a startled gasp.
"What the—"
I fumbled around the bed until my eyes landed on Asher, who was standing beside me with his phone in his hand, the alarm still blaring.
He finally turned it off.
I glared at him.
"Are you insane?"
He slipped his phone into his pocket without the slightest hint of remorse.
"You were impossible to wake."
"So your solution was to give me a heart attack?"
He leaned casually against the wall, folding his arms.
"I'm confused."
"Oh?"
"Yesterday, I let you sleep on the bus and you complained."
I blinked.
"Today, I wake you up and you're still complaining."
He tilted his head.
"What exactly do you want from me, CeeCee?"
"I’ve told you to stop calling me that."
Asher nodded. "So... no answer."
"You could've woken me like a normal human being!"
"I tried."
"I don't believe you."
He shrugged.
"You sleep like the dead."
"I do not."
"You were drooling."
"I was not!"
"You were."
"Liar."
His lips twitched.
"There she is."
"What?"
"The morning grump."
I snatched the nearest pillow and threw it at him.
He caught it effortlessly.
"Violence before breakfast?" he asked. "Impressive."
I ignored him and reached for my phone on the bedside table.
The screen lit up.
7:40 a.m.
My heart stopped.
The team meeting.
Eight o'clock.
"Oh, no."
I threw the blanket aside and practically launched myself off the bed.
"I'm late!"
"You've got twenty minutes," Asher said calmly.
"Twenty minutes isn't enough!"
I yanked open my suitcase so fast half my clothes spilled onto the floor.
"Where's my tracksuit? Why can't I find anything?"
Asher watched the chaos in silence before shaking his head.
“I can grab us coffee while you get ready,” he offered, surprisingly calm. “Black? Cream? Sugar?”
I was already rushing toward the bathroom with my toiletries tucked under one arm.
"Huh?"
"I said I'll get the coffee."
I barely heard him.
My mind was too busy calculating everything I had to do.
Shower.
Brush my teeth.
Get dressed.
Tie my hair.
Pack my bag.
Somehow make myself look presentable.
All... In twenty minutes.
Asher chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re panicked.”
“Shut up and go get the coffee,” I snapped, but there was no real heat in it. My face was burning.
The bathroom door slammed shut behind me.
Outside, Asher glanced at the closed door and let out a quiet chuckle.
"You're welcome," he muttered to himself before grabbing the room key and heading out.
Fifteen minutes slowly passed.
“This is a disaster,” I muttered, racing around the room like a hurricane in human form. I tried shoving my notebook into my backpack while simultaneously wrestling with my hair.
Nothing was cooperating.
The door clicked open. Asher walked in carrying two takeaway coffee cups and a small paper bag.
He took one look at my chaos and sighed. “You’ve been in here for fifteen minutes.”
“I know, right?!”
He set the coffees on the desk. “We leave in five.”
“I know!”
“You don’t look like you know.”
I shot him a death glare and went back to fighting my hair. My shirt was half-tucked, my hair had declared full-scale war, and panic was winning.
The stupid hairband refused to cooperate.
“Come on…”
It slipped from my fingers for the hundredth time.
Asher watched me struggle for another few seconds before walking over.
“What can I help with?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, still wrestling with the band.
He caught my hands mid-fumble. Before I could protest, he plucked the hairband from my fingers.
“Sit still.”
“I can do it—”
“CeeCee.”
His tone left zero room for argument.
I sighed dramatically and dropped onto the chair in front of the mirror.
He handed me one of the coffee cups. “Drink.”
I frowned but took it anyway.
The first sip made my eyebrows shoot up.
It was exactly how I liked it — extra milk, one cream, no sugar. Perfect.
I stared down at the cup, suspicious. “…How did you know how I like my coffee?”
“lol… you're not that hard to read,” he said casually, like it was nothing.
Before I could overthink that dangerous little statement, his fingers slid gently through my hair, gathering it into one hand.
His touch was surprisingly careful. Nothing like the cocky, rough hockey captain everyone knew. In the mirror, I watched his reflection — brows slightly furrowed in concentration, long fingers moving with practiced ease. He worked surprisingly fast, his fingers skillfully twisting sections of my hair together.
“…Since when do you know how to do hair?” I asked.
“My first girlfriend.”
I blinked. “Who? Jennie?”
He laughed softly, the sound low and warm against the back of my neck as his eyes met my eyes in the mirror, a mischievous glint dancing in them.
“Why?”
His lips curled into that infuriating, heart-stopping smirk.
“Jealous already?”
I scoffed immediately. “Jealous? Of what? You must really think highly of yourself.”
“I do.”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
“Sure.”
“Whatever. You could braid the entire women’s hockey team for all I care.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter as he secured the hairband neatly into place.
“I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.”
“Because you started it.”
“No, you asked first.”
I frowned.
“…Did I?”
“You did.”
I folded my arms.
“Well, I take it back.”
“You can’t.”
“I just did.”
He leaned back slightly to admire his work, hands still resting lightly on my shoulders.
“There.”
I looked at my reflection.
It looked… Perfect.
Better than anything I could’ve managed in my rush.
Our eyes met in the mirror again.
This time, he caught the tiny, traitorous smile on my lips as I sipped the perfect coffee he’d brought me.
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for me already, CeeCee,” he teased, voice low and rough near my ear.
My smile vanished instantly. “In your dreams, Hayes.”
He folded his arms, still standing behind me. “For someone who claims she isn’t jealous, you’re doing an awful lot of overthinking.”
“I was not overthinking.”
“No?”
“No.”
“You practically interrogated me about my first girlfriend.”
“I was making conversation.”
“Sure you were.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Why had I asked, anyway?
I didn’t even know.
My phone buzzed loudly.
“We’re out of time,” I said quickly, grabbing my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder.
As I reached the door, Asher’s voice stopped me.
“Not even a thank you?”
I looked back over my shoulder, heart still racing.
“You can go get it from your first girlfriend.”
His warm, amused laugh followed me all the way down the hallway before the door clicked shut behind me.
I rolled my eyes as I headed for the elevator.
Why was it suddenly so hard to stop thinking about a girl I’d never even met?
- Writer
