Taming the Obnoxious Hockey Captain

Chapter 5: To be is to do.

Hailey.

I pride myself on making smart decisions.

Agreeing to help the hockey captain I'd publicly dragged through the mud definitely wasn't one of them.

If karma had a sense of humor, it was laughing its ass off right now.

The whole walk to Penny's Pies & Dine the following evening, I replay our conversation over and over in my head.

I should've told him to get lost.

Instead, he'd dangled Elias Denver in front of me like bait, knowing exactly where to hit. The worst part was that it worked.

Nevertheless, I'm still not helping him with the article.

Elias has been my crush since first year. The only guy I've ever managed to like after that gruelling experience.

There's a huge difference.

"Girl, that scowl's looking even deadlier than usual."

A sharp smack lands on my butt, making me jump.

I whirl around to find Tiana grinning from ear to ear, completely unapologetic.

"What's crawled up your ass this time?"

I swear the universe made her gay just to humble me.

The girl once looked me dead in the eyes and said I had the body of a goddess but the face of an angry grandmother.

And I still haven't recovered from that.

I sling my backpack behind the counter before grabbing my green apron off the hook.

"It's nothing. Just...some stuff going on with—"

"Elias Denver?"

I stop tying the strings around my waist.

Tiana lifts an eyebrow, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

It's honestly disturbing how well she reads me when we've only known each other since the semester started.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"You've got that look again."

"What look?"

"The one where you're pretending you're not completely obsessed."

I snort.

"I am not obsessed."

"Mhm."

"I'm not."

"Mhm."

I throw a dish towel at her face.

"Okay, baby girl." Tiana folds her arms. "You cannot spend your whole life staring at that man from across the garden like some adorable little stalker."

"I do not stalk him."

"You absolutely do."

"I admire him."

"You lust after him."

"I admire his work."

"You want him naked."

"Oh, for the love of—"

"I've seen the way you look at him."

"I look at him because he's ridiculously talented," I argue. "His illustrations are incredible. He's creative, passionate, and completely original. That's attractive."

Tiana's expression doesn't change.

"So..."

"So what?"

"You still want him."

"I absolutely do not."

She sighs dramatically.

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, sweetheart. This back and forth won't change the fact."

I groan.

"Can we please not do this today?"

She studies my face for another second before softening.

"Fine. I'll let it go."

"Thank you."

"For now."

I groan even louder.

Before I can threaten her life, our boss sticks his head out from the kitchen.

"Hailey! Man the counter come on!"

"Coming!"

Tiana checks the time on her phone.

"Damn. I've got to head out anyway."

"Ooh." I grin despite myself. "Another date?"

She straightens her shirt with exaggerated pride.

"Not a date."

"No?"

"A potential future disappointment."

I laugh.

"So...a hookup."

"A gentleman never kisses and tells."

"You've literally told me everything."

"True." She shrugs. "Anyway, wish me luck."

"I'll pray for whoever has to deal with you."

"Love you too."

"Hate you more."

Tits, as I love to call her, blows me a kiss before strolling out of the café while swinging her hips every witch way.

I shake my head, smiling despite myself.

Tits is exhausting.

But life would be painfully boring without her.

Once she's gone, I slip behind the register and start preparing for the evening rush.

The job isn't glamorous.

I spend half my shift carrying trays, wiping tables, and smiling at people who would rather be at a funeral than whatever it is life threw them into.

Still, the pay is surprisingly good, it works around my lecture schedule, and it's only a ten-minute walk from campus.

For a broke scholarship student, that counts as luxury.

The dinner rush comes and goes faster than expected.

By eight-thirty, only a handful of customers remain.

I finish clearing a table near the window before turning toward the entrance. The bell above the door jingles.

I glance up then immediately regret it.

Ezra.

Of course.

Because apparently the universe had decided my patience needed stress testing.

The hockey captain strolls inside like he own the place, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, completely oblivious to the emotional damage his existence causes me.

Or maybe he isn't oblivious.

Maybe he enjoys it.

He scans the café once before sliding into one of my booths near the back.

My booth.

Seriously?

Doesn't this guy ever know when to quit?

Then again...

He did tell me he never gives up.

Fantastic.

I briefly consider pretending not to see him.

Unfortunately, my boss still hasn't hired anyone to cover the late shift.

Which means every table in the café is mine.

Including him.

Wonderful.

I smooth out my apron, force the most painfully fake customer-service smile known to mankind onto my face, and march toward his booth.

"Welcome to Penny's Pies & Dine. What can I get for you?"

Ezra looks up from the menu and blinks in exaggerated surprise.

"Oh... Har—sorry. Hailey." He flashes that infuriating grin. "Wow. What are the odds?"

Very low.

About as low as his IQ. There is no way this is a coincidence. He

definitely snooped around until he found out where I worked. For some reason, he can almost remember a name as long as Harriette, but Hailey is apparently too much for his brain to process.

"Yeah, whatever." I pull my notepad from my apron pocket with a sigh. "What can I get you?"

"An article."

I don't even look up.

"Sorry. We don't serve those." I tap my pen against the pad. "But the lasagna is excellent. Or, if you're feeling adventurous, you could leave and never come back."

One perfectly groomed eyebrow rises.

"That's not exactly customer service."

"It's premium customer service."

"You're actively chasing away business."

"I'm making room for customers I actually like."

Up close, I finally notice his hands. They're much rougher than the average boxer. His knuckles are scraped, a couple of fingernails are cracked around the edges, and there's a faint bruise stretching across the back of one hand not to mention the fading scar on his lip.

Practice?

A fight?

From the rumors about him, it's probably both.

"I stopped by the broadcasting station yesterday," he says casually. "Did a little research."

"You mean stalked me?"

"I prefer investigated."

"I prefer creep."

He ignores that completely.

"Turns out your name is Hailey Nirvana." His eyes meet mine. "You're also here on a scholarship."

Everything inside me goes still.

Very few people knew that. One of them being —

I lower my notepad.

"...You bribed the chief for my personal file?"

My voice comes out louder than intended.

Several customers glance in our direction but Ezra doesn't even flinch.

Instead, he leans back comfortably in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself.

"I learned quite a bit." His grin widens. "Your full name. Your number. Where you work."

I force every muscle in my face to relax.

Don't react.

Don't give him the satisfaction.

"I've seen pathetic before," I say flatly. "But congratulations. You've managed to redefine it."

"I'm flattered."

"You'll be hearing from the police."

"You have proof?" "No."

"Then I think I'll sleep just fine tonight."

I glare at him.

"Seriously, Ezra. I'm not taking down my article. Accept it and go bother your rich daddy instead."

His smile falters for the briefest second.

"So you've been asking about me."

"What? No I haven't." "Interesting."

"I wasn't—"

"You know my dad's rich."

"Everyone knows that dummy. You're literally a menace."

The smug grin returns. I honestly meant that as an insult.

"Relax." He reaches for the menu. "I won't tell anyone."

I mutter something that would probably get me fired if my boss heard it.

"So." He scans the menu dramatically. "I'll have the plantain chips."

He pauses.

"And a meaty burger."

Another pause.

"Actually... forget the chips."

Three seconds later—

"No, keep the chips. Plantains have fiber. Fiber is healthy."

I stare at him.

He continues as if he's delivering a life-changing speech.

"And add a glass of lemon water."

"Done?"

He clicks his tongue.

"Patience, Hailey. The customer's always right."

"The customer is currently testing my self-control which is thinner than the menu."

"I'll pretend that was a compliment."

"It wasn't."

He smiles anyway.

"And..." He folds his hands together. "I'd also like one complimentary slice of tofu and a hot serving of Hailey to go."

I slip the notepad back into my apron.

"Not on the menu."

"What a shame. That dish is standing right beside me."

"But everything else will be out shortly. You can pay using the QR code on your table."

Before he finds another way to irritate me, I turn on my heel and head straight for the kitchen.

The cook takes one look at my expression and chuckles.

"Hockey boy again?"

"You have no idea."

A few minutes later, I carry over his lemon water and deliberately set it down from the opposite side of the table, keeping as much distance between us as possible.

Even so, I can still feel his eyes following me.

Not in a creepy way.

More like...

Like he's trying to figure me out.

Well, good luck with that.

He's wasting his time.

I have lectures to survive, shifts to work, and exactly zero interest in helping campus royalty repair his reputation.

By the time his food arrives, the café has settled into a comfortable quiet.

He eats without making a scene, occasionally thanking me with a nod whenever I refill his drink.

At least he has table manners.

I'll give him that.

Three girls sitting near the window suddenly wave me over.

"Um... excuse me?"

I walk over with their drinks.

"Yeah?"

One of them points discreetly toward Ezra.

"Is that really Ezra Donatello? The hockey star?"

"You've been staring at him for the last fifteen minutes," I deadpan. "You tell me."

They giggle.

"So it is!"

"He's ridiculously handsome."

"And I've heard he's amazing in bed."

I snort.

"He probably started that rumor himself."

"No way."

"My roommate says girls forget how to walk after a night with him."

I glance toward Ezra.

He's completely oblivious, focused on finishing his burger while scrolling through something on his phone.

What exactly was everyone seeing that I wasn't?

Sure, he was attractive.

Objectively in a very vain materialistic way.

But he was also arrogant, reckless, and responsible for injuring another player.

Looks shouldn't cancel that out.

I shake myself out of the thought.

It's not my problem anyway. If they want to get f****d by an asshole then be my guest.

I hand the girls their glasses.

"You know..." I say casually, "he looks pretty lonely tonight."

Their eyes widen.

"You should go keep him company."

That is all the encouragement they need.

The three of them practically race across the café.

Ezra looks up, clearly caught off guard.

Then the familiar charming smile slides back into place as he politely greets them.

See? A player by the books. Exactly what I thought.

It's five minutes before closing, my phone vibrates inside my apron pocket with an unknown number.

I answer anyway.

"Hello?"

"Nice try back there."

"You have got to be kidding me."

I slowly turn toward his now-empty booth.

"You almost had me surrounded."

His voice carries a teasing smile.

"Using my weakness against me was clever."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Tomorrow noon. Meet me at the ice rink by the boys' locker room."

"What?"

"We have unfinished business, pretty face."