PUCK ME ON ICE

Chapter 14

Ryder’s POV

I lean forward, but before my lips can even brush hers, Tessy shoves me back hard against the couch cushion.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she snaps, pure annoyance laced in her tone.

A jagged laugh slips out of my mouth as I raise my hands in surrender. “I’m just kidding,” I say, watching her roll her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don't get stuck.

“Let’s just get started so I can leave,” she says, taking a seat at the desk and pulling out her notepad.

“Fair enough,” I nod, grabbing my sketchbook from the table. “What do you think of this? I actually worked on the assignment like you said—tried to focus on feelings and all that stuff.”

“Let me take a closer look,” she says, leaning in and pulling the sketch toward her. She squints at the paper for a few seconds before sighing. “You didn’t do what I asked you to do.”

“Really? What’s wrong with it?” I ask, total confusion setting in.

“Ryder, there’s still no feeling in this,” she explains, tapping the page. “Have you ever been in love before? That exact feeling you get... you have to put *that* into your drawing.”

“I’ve never been in love before,” I say flatly, my tone dropping into a quiet calm.

“Oh...” She pauses, looking at me for a second before shaking her head. “Okay, forget about that for a second. You need to have a real reason why you decided to start drawing in the first place.”

“To boost my GPA.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” she mutters, letting out a breath that forces a small chuckle from me. “Ryder, drawing comes from within. You *must* have a reason you originally wanted to draw.”

I tilt my head, resting my chin in my hand. “Why did *you* start drawing then? I mean, if you’re going to teach me, I should at least know your reason.”

She goes quiet for a moment, her eyes softening. “I started drawing because my dad loved it. Doing it makes me feel closer to him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say gently.

“It’s fine. It’s been a long time already,” she says with a slight wave of her hand. “Look, you love playing hockey, right? Think about drawing the exact same way you think about hockey. The rush when you run on the ice, how much you love scoring a goal—utilize *that* feeling. Put it onto the page, and you’ll see how even a simple tree takes on a whole new meaning.”

I nod slowly, taking in her words.

“You have thirty minutes to show me what you’ve got,” she adds, checking her watch.

“Okay. I will,” I say.

I pull the sketchbook back toward me and pick up my charcoal pencil. I glance over at her for a split second—she’s sitting back, quietly scrolling through her phone. A faint smile hits my face before I turn my focus entirely back to the paper.

She told me to think about my love for hockey... but hockey isn't my first love. Drawing was. I just threw that dream away the exact moment my mom died.

I stare down at the rough outline of the tree. I close my eyes, and instantly, I see my mom standing in the sunlight, smiling as she dips her brush into paint. A soft, genuine smile plays on my lips. I open my eyes and start to work, letting the pencil glide over the paper.

After a few quiet minutes, I place the pencil down.

“I’m done, Coach,” I say, leaning back.

Tessy looks up from her phone. “Let me see,” she says, grabbing the sketchbook. Her eyes widen slightly as she scans the details. “See? You just had to tap into your love for hockey! This is so much better!”

I can’t help the proud smile spreading across my face.

“I guess tutoring you won’t be as hard as I thought it would be,” she says, nodding in approval.

“Thanks for the compliment,” I say, leaning in with a cocky smirk. “Now that we’re officially done with *my* problems... let’s focus on yours.”

She raises an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“You seemed to be having a pretty cozy conversation with Tristan out in the kitchen before I showed up,” I say. It’s actually nice to see a faint blush creep up her neck.

“Well, you *did* teach me about confidence, and I’m utilizing it,” she admits, a genuine smile breaking across her face. “Our conversation went way smoother than I thought it would. He really is such a nice guy.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Which means now you have to get right in his face,” I say smoothly.

She stares at me, completely bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Come to our game tomorrow. You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, so it’s only proper that you’re sitting right there in the stands.”

“But I’m *not* your girlfriend.”

“The whole campus thinks we are,” I point out. “If Tristan sees you there, he’ll think you’re a insanely supportive girlfriend, and then he’ll realize you deserve way better than a guy like me.”

Tessy blinks, looking amused. “So you’re casually admitting that you’re complete trash?”

“I am not!” I protest, but a small laugh escapes her lips anyway, making me smile. “You get my point.”

“Hmm... I’ll show up for moral support, but let’s be clear: I will be cheering exclusively for Tristan, not you.”

“Of course you would,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

She opens her mouth to shoot back a reply, but a sharp chime from her phone cuts her off. The moment her eyes hit the screen, every bit of color and joy completely drains from her face.

I frown, leaning forward. “Are you okay?”

“Yes! I’m fine,” she says instantly, her voice tight as she practically shoves her phone straight into her bag and stands up. “We’re done for tonight. And... I actually won't be able to make it to the game tomorrow. I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Oh. Okay,” I say, rising from the couch. “I’ll walk you out.”

She just nods silently.

As we step into the hallway, a harsh buzz vibrates in my back pocket. I pull out my phone and glance at the screen. A fresh message from my dad:

*Be at the restaurant by 1:00 PM tomorrow. You’re joining me for lunch to meet my new girlfriend.*