The Captain’s Accidental Girlfriend

Chapter 2

My Worst Possible Partner

Riley’s Pov

I sat at a quiet corner table near the tall glass windows, my laptop open and my notes neatly stacked in front of me. I had a strict plan for this meeting: we would divide the research topics, set our deadlines, and finish this project with as little human contact as possible. I was not going to let Mason Hayes charm his way out of doing his share of the work.

When the heavy library doors swung open and Mason walked in, every single head in the room turned to look at him. He had ditched his varsity jacket, wearing a simple grey t-shirt that showed off how broad his shoulders were, and his messy brown hair looked like he had just run his hands through it a hundred times. He spotted me immediately and flashed that infuriating, lopsided grin, strolling over like he owned the entire building.

"You are exactly four minutes late," I said before he even pulled out a chair, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "If we are going to do this, you need to respect my time, Mason."

Mason dropped his heavy backpack onto the chair across from me and slumped down, stretching his long legs out under the table. "Relax, sunshine. Four minutes is basically early in hockey time. Besides, I had to dodge three different people asking me about Friday's game."

"Well, I am not one of your fans, and I do not care about your game," I snapped, sliding a piece of paper across the table toward him. "Here are the guidelines for the project. I split the research into two equal parts. I took the historical analysis, and you have the economic impact. If you do your part, we will never have to talk outside of these four walls."

Mason picked up the paper, his green eyes scanning the text. The playful smirk slowly faded from his face, replaced by a look of sharp, genuine focus that completely caught me off guard. For a second, he did not look like the arrogant hockey captain everyone gossiped about. He looked smart.

"Economic impact of industrial expansion," Mason read out loud, tapping his chin with a pen. "Actually, that is not a bad topic. My dad makes me read business reports all the time, so I already know a bit about market trends."

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Oh, really? I thought your only vocabulary words were 'puck', 'penalty', and 'championship'."

Mason let out a short, genuine laugh, leaning forward so our faces were closer across the narrow table. "You really hate hockey players, do you? What did one of us do to you? Did an ugly goalie steal your lunch money in middle school?"

"Very funny," I said, rolling my eyes and looking down at my screen. "Just focus on your section. I want an A on this project, which means no slacking off because you have a big game coming up."

For the next hour, we actually worked. To my absolute shock, Mason did not complain once. When he spoke about the economic side of our topic, he used real facts and smart ideas that made me realize he was a lot more intelligent than the school rumors gave him credit for. But the peace did not last long.

Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter echoed from the entrance of the library. Three of Mason’s hockey teammates—guys in red jackets with huge grins—strolled between the bookshelves and spotted us.

"Well, look who it is," one of them shouted, loud enough for half the library to hear. "Hey, Mason! I did not know the study hall came with a personal cheerleader. Are you two practicing your flashcards or writing love letters?"

The other guys laughed loudly, and I felt my cheeks burn bright red with pure humiliation. I hated being the center of attention, especially when it involved the exact kind of high school drama I had spent all morning trying to avoid. I slammed my laptop shut with a loud bang, my hands shaking slightly with anger.

"I cannot believe this," I hissed, glaring at Mason. "This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Your stupid friends are turning everything into a circus."

Mason’s face hardened instantly. He turned around in his chair and shot a cold, warning glare at his teammates. "Back off, guys. Go find somewhere else to hang out, or I will see you on the ice tomorrow morning at five AM."

The guys laughed nervously, realizing Mason was actually serious, and quickly walked away toward the exit. Mason turned back to me, running a hand through his hair looking genuinely frustrated. "Hey, I am sorry about them. They are idiots. They do not mean anything by it."

"Well, they are annoying, and so are you," I said coldly, grabbing my pens and shoving them into my bag. "I am leaving. We can finish this over email."

"Wait, Riley, hold on," Mason said softly, reaching out to touch the edge of my notebook. His fingers paused before they actually brushed my hand, hovering in the air as if he suddenly remembered our invisible boundaries. "Look at section three before you go. You are stuck on the statistics part, right? Let me help you."

I froze, staring at him suspiciously. "Why would you help me? You barely know me."

"Because," Mason said, his green eyes locking onto mine with a strange, quiet intensity, "unlike what you think, I actually care about my grades too. And for the record, you are staring at that graph upside down."

I blinked, looking down at my laptop screen. He was right. I had been misreading the data points for twenty minutes.

Without asking permission, Mason leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against mine as he pointed to the screen. He smelled faintly of fresh soap and cedarwood, and his voice dropped to a low, steady hum as he explained the math behind the graph in clear, simple steps.

For a few minutes, the noise of the library completely faded away. I listened to him talk, feeling a strange, confusing flutter in my chest that I definitely did not like. He wasn't just guessing; he actually knew his stuff.

When he finished, he pulled back and smiled softly. "See? Not totally useless."

I swallowed hard, trying to push away the sudden warmth in my cheeks. I cleared my throat and stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Thanks for the help, Mason. See you in class tomorrow."

"See you, sunshine," he replied, leaning back in his chair with that familiar, cocky grin back in place.

I hurried out of the library, telling myself that my sudden change of heart was just exhaustion. Mason Hayes was still an arrogant hockey player, and I still wanted nothing to do with him.

Except, my resolve was tested even more later that night.

My best friend Emma had practically dragged me to a crowded off-campus party to celebrate the start of the semester. The house was loud, hot, and packed with sweaty teenagers dancing to thumping bass music.

I stood near the kitchen island holding a cup of punch, wishing I was back in my bedroom reading a book, when the back door opened and a wave of cheering erupted through the crowd.

Mason walked into the kitchen surrounded by a crowd of giggling girls, looking completely at home in the center of the room. He was laughing at something someone said, but the second his green eyes scanned the room, they locked straight onto me standing by the counter.

He didn't hesitate. He pushed right through the crowd of girls, walked straight up to me, and leaned against the counter inches away from my face.

"Fancy meeting you here, Riley," Mason smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief under the flashing party lights. "Did you miss me so much that you followed me all the way to a party?"

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt, crossing my arms as I looked up at him. "In your dreams, Hayes. What is it going to take to get you to finally leave me alone?"