PUCK ME ON ICE

Chapter 5

Tessy’s POV

I slammed Ryder’s bedroom door so hard the heavy oak frame rattled. My cheeks were still burning from what I’d just walked in on.

Sophie was going to die laughing. I was going to die of mortification.

I made it halfway down the grand staircase before heavy footsteps thundered behind me.

“Tessy, wait!”

I didn’t stop. If anything, I moved faster, gripping the banister like it owed me money.

Ryder caught up at the bottom step. Grey sweatpants, no shirt, no shoes. His dark hair was a disaster, and a fresh hickey sat on his collarbone like evidence for the prosecution.

“Look, I’m sorry you saw that,” he said, voice still rough. “I lost track of time. It won’t happen again during our sessions.”

I spun around. “Sessions? You think I’m still doing this after—” I gestured sharply upstairs. “You were occupied, Ryder. Very occupied.”

A smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you.”

The smirk faded, replaced by something sharper, more alert. He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll make coffee. You look like you’re two seconds from committing murder.”

“You are actually insane,” I muttered, turning on my heel.

I yanked the front door open and stormed outside. Cool air hit my burning face as I hurried down the driveway toward my car. I was done. The second I got behind the wheel, I’d call Professor Zoey and tap out. She could find someone else to babysit the campus playboy.

“Tessy! Hey, Tessy, please!”

His voice followed me outside. A second later, footsteps pounded behind me, and before I could reach my car, Ryder cut into my path and stopped me cold, arms spread like he could physically block the exit.

“Just listen for one second.”

“What are you doing?” I snapped. “Put a shirt on before someone sees you.”

“I don’t care.” The cocky mask slipped, and for one second something almost raw showed underneath. “I know it was shitty. I know I disrespected your time. I swear on my spot on the team — it won’t happen again. Just don’t walk out.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Find another tutor, Ryder.”

“I can’t.” His shoulders dropped. “Zoey says you’re the best in the department. Coach is riding me hard about my grades. If I fail this class, I’m off the team. Done.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes locking onto mine with sudden intensity. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you think I’m a lost cause. But maybe we can make this mutually beneficial.”

I crossed my arms. “Mutually beneficial? What could a hockey player possibly offer me?”

That familiar mischievous glint came back into his eyes. “You help me actually pass art — teach me how to put some soul into whatever Zoey keeps yelling about.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “In return, I help you get Tristan.”

The floor tilted under me. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been gone for him for years. The party. The café. It’s honestly kind of painful to watch.”

Heat flooded my face. “How do you even—”

“You don’t need to know how I know.” He cut me off, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “What matters is I can help. I know Tristan. I know the whole team. I can teach you how to flirt, how to tease, how to actually get noticed instead of pining from the background.”

I stared at him, jaw tight. Part of me wanted to slap him. The other, more pathetic part was already doing the math on how tempting this actually was.

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I need to stay captain.” He shrugged, casual on the surface, serious underneath. “And it’ll be entertaining.” His gaze flicked to my mouth for half a second before returning to my eyes. “Besides — you’re not hopeless. You’ve got potential.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Probably.” That wicked grin again. “But it’s a win-win. You get the guy. I stay on the ice. We both survive these sessions without killing each other.”

Every sensible part of me was screaming to walk away. This was Ryder King — campus heartbreaker — offering to coach me on seducing his own roommate. A disaster with a syllabus.

But then I pictured Tristan laughing with yet another gorgeous girl while I stood invisible on the sidelines, sketchbook clutched to my chest like a shield.

“Fine,” I said, the word out before my brain could catch it. “But there are rules. No more walk-ins. No girls during scheduled sessions. And one sleazy comment and the deal’s off.”

His smile turned thoroughly wicked. “Deal, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, chill.” He half-laughed, hands up. “So — session today?”

“Absolutely not.” I adjusted my bag strap. “Tomorrow. And you’d better be on your best behavior.”

“See you tomorrow.” He winked, turned, and disappeared back inside, letting the door shut behind him.

I stood in the driveway for a moment, the adrenaline draining out of me all at once. I had actually agreed to this. I’d made a deal with the biggest playboy on campus to help me land his roommate.

Holding my sketchbook tight against my chest, I walked to my car, hoping the whole plan wouldn’t blow up in my face — and trying not to notice how long “you don’t need to know how I know” kept replaying in my head the entire drive home.