Taming the Obnoxious Hockey Captain

Chapter 8: Hailey

The car rolled smoothly on the road with ease. It's my first time being in such a luxurious car and I honestly can't stop myself from grinning.

To think I, the girl who had sworn off any mortal emotions for athletes, would now be dating the hottest, nastiest, most irresponsible hockey captain in the whole of Easton was something my past self could most likely commit suicide over.

He says he didn't do it. Fine. No one's above mistakes anyway. If he manges to prove me wrong then I'll apologize like the professional I am.

This can even be my chance to get him to do even more stuffs for me.

I shift in my seat, turning my body sideways so I can see him.

Ezra is unfairly attractive and I'm not even exaggerating. It sucks why someone with such good looks can be such a jerk. He has a ripped body, a sharp jawline, thin pouty lips, and bulging muscles that flex each time he turns the steering wheel.

"Falling for me already are we? No shame in that princess. I have that effect on women."

"Okay first. Never call me princess if you don't want my fist down your throat. Second, since we're fake dating, there a things I also want in this uh... relationship."

"How about your tongue then sweetheart? I'm sure it'll fit down perfectly down my throat than your entire fist."

Why do I even bother with this man. He can't last three seconds without saying something dumb or he'll explode.

He chuckles quietly, that dark baritone sound that vibrated all over the car. "What might that be? This thing you want I mean."

"There's this new program we just introduced. It's a live podcast of stuffs happening on campus but it's been getting very low viewership ratings. Having someone like you there will really boost it up."

Ezra clicks his tongue.

"Ahhh. So you need my help now huh? I'll consider it if you act nice to me from now on."

"Don't try to make this about yourself, Donatello. I'm bad news once you cross me."

A part of me is honestly surprised that I managed to have such a big shot under my mercy. Most guys I've taken down don't show their faces in front of me ever again.

I give myself an invisible high five as shift back to my original position. That's when I notice Ezra already driving in the lot behind the dormitories. He didn't say anything after my threat. I glance over at him. He has his hands on the steering wheel, his head resting just a little bit above it.

“What dorm are you in?” he asks, putting the car in park, taking the off his seatbelt, and leaning into the chair.

“I'm not telling you where I live.”

"I already know about your scholarship and where you work and your hostel name. Do you think finding your room number is gonna be a problem for me?"

I look him straight in the eyes, my face darkening into a snarl. How dare he.

"You. Are. A. D*ck." I stress each word emphatically so he feels my hatred but all he does is laugh, flashing that grinny smile.

"And you're Harry Potter now so come on. I’ll walk you in. We have to make this believable remember?

I start to unbuckle my seat belt when he shakes his head.

"What is it this time?"

"I've been doing my part but you've been in my car all day not doing your part. We had a deal, granny."

"You're the one who's been driving me around campus all day. Plus, it's barely been twenty-four hours. I also need substantial proof that you didn't do it. I can't risk my trustworthiness because of you, Ezra." I stop talking when a small smile spreads across his face. This f*ck*r is rage baiting me.

"I was dead drunk that night, Hailey. I don't remember jack sh*t."

"Hold on. You want me to tell everyone you didn't do it without having evidence to back it up. Wow. You really are dumb."

"Just hear me out first. That player claims I assaulted him on the ice rink with my hockey stick and there are scratces all over his body to prove it. But how the hell would I have done that if we had gone out for drinks immediately after practice and all my gear were scattered over the bleachers?"

I pause a bit. That did make sense to some extent but it still wasn't enough to write him off as not guilty. Guess I have to go back to the drawing board.

"See? You already wrote me off as a jerk without even looking into the matter properly. Tch."

He stretches out his hand to me. "Anyway, here's to a hard day's work. I hope this whole thing gets rectified soon. The whole team's counting on me, Hailey."

I stare at his hand like it's plagued with Ebola then at his face. He looks too genuine to be faking it.

Meh. I'm don't buy sorry looks. If I do, then my work isn't legit because then, anyone can manipulate my decisions.

"Fine. I'll admit my investigation was half baked so I'll give you the teensy benefit of doubt and look into it again. Thanks for the ride anyway."

The door opens on its own and I step out of the car, leaving Ezra's hand hanging midair.

Good. He should bask in the realization that he can't have every girl in the world... especially me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My computer is open up in front of me, a cup of latte that had long gone cold is beside it paired with a half eaten bagel. Ezra's case file is scattered all over my desktop screen. Unlike other case files I have of the athletes I've taken down, his is the messiest which was so unlike me.

Huh. I really did rush to judge the guy. I wonder why I did that.

Elias' podcast on the First Steps to Creating a Masterpiece is playing in my MP3 speaker mounted beside my bed. His voice is so dreamy, like a chocolate fountain flowing undisturbed into a bowl made from vanilla.

It just had that smooth, slapping edge to it that make my toes tingle. Unfortunately, I can't enjoy this wonderful piece because of damned Ezra's case.

I take a sip of my latte, scanning through the endless rows of pages from magazines, news outlets about the player from the rival team. His name is Peter Ulysses Kant and he's a year than Ezra.

There's nothing very striking to see here that may prove he had framed Ezra out of jealousy. I scroll through some more then stopped.

A news article from Bea University surface on my screen. Turns out, Peter and Ezra had been on the same team in highschool. Both had been searching for potential scouts at an ice hockey game two years ago.

But while on the ice, Ezra had refused to pass the puck to Peter who was closer to the net which made Peter look untrustworthy to the scouts who had come to watch the game.

Long story short: Ezra got the spot at Easton while Peter had no choice but to repeat another year after graduation to play highschool hockey and stand a chance of being scouted.

I shrink in my chair, resting my jaw on my propped up knees.

Yeesh! That's bad.

I mean if this story checks out, then this Peter guy has every right to try to ruin Ezra's career.

Don't judge me. I'm as fair as the blindfolded statue of liberty.

Anyway, this might be able to work as a proper argument for my article coupled with the information he let me on earlier today. I take a screenshot of the image before stashing it into his case file folder on my desktop screen.

Tomorrow, I'll visit the nearest bar closest to the hockey rink for more clues. Nothing gets past me for too long.

If there's a bottom line, I'll sure as hell find it.