The First Encounter

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER

" Y ou need to get your head in the game, Son. Behavior like this isn't going to get you into the NHL."

I bite my tongue from snapping back at my dad. What I want to say is, I am always the last one off the ice, despite caring the least about it. Instead, I clench my teeth together and mutter a, "Yes, sir."

"And about your next game, I won't make it. I have a business meeting I can't miss."

"Yeah, that's fine. Don't worry about it," I reply, attempting to ignore the sharp pain in my chest. One I am far too familiar with when it comes to dear old Dad.

"Anyway, I'm walking into a meeting, speak soon."

He disconnects the call before I have a chance to respond and I am left holding my phone to my ear, staring off into nothing. It shouldn't be a surprise after all these years, yet it doesn't quell the disappointment that soaks into my bones.

I don't know how long I stand there, replaying the overly familiar conversation with my father in my mind. I'm staring into space for God knows how long before making my way toward the university building.

People attempt to catch my attention as I walk, wanting to start a conversation, but I smile and keep going, pretending I'm late to class. Being the captain of Breslin University's hockey team has its perks, but always having to be interested in every little thing isn't one of them.

I'm in a terrible mood by the time I get to class. I push through the masses, finding a few empty seats in the back and slotting into one of them. I don't know why I am always surprised when Dad finds another way to disappoint me, but I keep putting myself on the line for him. Despite being MIA for most of my childhood, I can't curb the need for his approval despite him giving me absolutely zero in return. If he knew how I really felt about joining the NHL, he would freak.

"Is that seat taken?" an overly sweet voice asks me. I turn to the left to see a vaguely familiar blonde peering down at me, big blue eyes wide and hopeful. Usually, I'd have the perfect line to woo her, but today I don't have it in me. I can't stand one more person sucking up to me because they think it's going to get them somewhere.

"Sorry," I reply, smiling, "saving it for my teammate." The lie slips out easily enough, causing her shoulders to slightly drop. I go through this a few more times before class begins, thanking the universe no one sits down without asking.

I'm thinking about this weekend's game when it happens.

When I see her .

I spot her sneaking into class before she ever sees me. Professor Stein is halfway through speaking when the door opens, alerting us all to her presence.

"Why, Miss Ivy, how nice of you to grace us with your presence," Stein says. I grin, loving the way her cheeks redden at the class's attention but also wanting to tell Stein off for embarrassing her. I mentally pray that despite the numerous empty chairs around here, she takes the one next to me.

I take myself back by my thoughts. Why do I care?

She mutters an apology before bolting to the first empty chair. The one next to me.

She's yet to see me next to her, clearly attempting to get over Stein embarrassing her in front of the entire class. I take the moment to fully look at her closely. Okay, that sounds creepy, but I don't mean it in the stalking sense. I've seen Eleanor around campus a lot but she's like smoke, always vanishing in seconds. She's beautiful and denying it would be criminal. Rosy lips stand out against olive skin and stark green eyes dart everywhere but at me. But it's her hair that really pulls me in. Auburn waves cascade down her back, slightly messy, probably from running to the auditorium. I wonder why she was so late. I'd ask her but she'd probably tell me to fuck off. Even that seems worth it.

I force myself to turn away from her as Stein tells the class we're about to be stuck with the person next to us for the foreseeable future.

Partners .

I muse over the word, not even attempting to hide my grin. It broadens even more when Eleanor turns to me, her eyebrows bunching and lips pursing in annoyance. It does zero to dissuade me. In fact, her lack of sucking up to me makes me like her more.

She doesn't say anything, just looks me up and down as the rest of the room begins their own chatter. I stay silent, noticing her gaze has changed from annoyance to a perusal. The corner of her mouth is leaning upward while her eyes still hold distaste for me. It wouldn't be that hard to guess the things she's heard about me, and I can't lie and say most of them are untrue.

"So, uh, are we going to get started, or are you just going to keep staring at me for the rest of class?" My words are laced with mirth, despite knowing full well this woman could slice off my dick and wear it around her neck for fun. It only eggs me on more. I can't help myself. For some reason, one look at her and my day doesn't seem so terrible.

Her face twists up even more than before. "I wasn't staring." Her words are quick and send a thrill up my spine.

"I was just thinking about how unfortunate it is for me to be stuck with a partner like you." Her enunciation of you isn't hard to miss. It does nothing to deter me.

"Well, who says I'm keen on working with the likes of you, Ivy?" I reply, tasting the nickname on my lips. I'm a total liar. I can't wait for this. I know for a fact Eleanor's best friend and roommate, Vivian Clark, is dating my best friend Will. This could make things interesting.

"It's Eleanor. Ivy is my last night, Parker," she retorts, her eyes narrowing.

I grin, I can't help it. I'm probably shooting myself in the foot here being so self-confident, but for once it's totally genuine. "I know your last name, Eleanor Ivy. I was just trying out a nickname. I'll take Ivy off the list."

"I've spoken maybe one word to you over the past two years we've been at this school. I'm surprised you even know my name." Leaning back into her seat, she eyes me, lips thinned.

"Oh, Eleanor, I know the names of all the pretty girls." I laugh, winking at her. Okay, that might have been too much. I want her to like me not kill me.

She ignores it, turning her body away from me.

"Fine, call me whatever you like. I really don't care. Let's just get started." She expels a little breath, angrily pulling out our English textbook. I try not to laugh because as much as I love teasing her, I don't want to be hit on the side of the head with that thing. And I don't doubt she'd do it.

Without stopping she begins listing out every author known to man, seemingly having a conversation with herself as she goes. It's like I'm invisible as she debates the merits of some and the downfall of others. I watch in fascination as she goes. Clearly used to doing everything for herself, I have the sudden urge to prove to her I can help. That I am not the total loser playboy she thinks I am.

Suddenly all my bravado feels like it could slip away. But I do my best to keep the smile on my face. I can't falter now.

Leaning forward, I gently close the book, ignoring the shock that comes from touching her hand. I've never had a reaction like this to a stranger before, so I try to push it down. It doesn't mean anything.

"What are you doing?" she says, clearly annoyed. "I was looking at that!"

"Okay, so I can tell you think I'm an idiot who has never read a book before. And usually I would be offended, but since you're cute, I won't take it personally. Instead of listing off every author in the history of the world, I think we should go for a classic, either Charlotte Bront? or her sister Emily."

Her eyes slightly widen at my response. Not many guys my age know those classics, but growing up my mom was obsessed with Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights . Instead of bedtime stories of Harry Potte r, she'd read these to me every night. I'd pretend to be annoyed but secretly loved them.

Not like my dickhead father who couldn't leave my mom and me fast enough.

"Um, let's go with Charlotte. Jane Eyre is a personal favorite of mine," she finally responds, pulling me out of my thoughts. And it's for the first time I realize my bad mood from before has completely dissipated. Without even knowing it, she's made the day a little bit better.

"Perfect. I've always felt a special bond with Mr. Rochester." I don't know why I say it, it's like I can't help but make a fool of myself around her. That guy was a prick. But it's like every time she gets irritated at me, I like her more.

"Good to see you acknowledging your barbaric tendencies."

"This is going to be fun."

We continue our banter—well, what I consider banter anyway—until class ends. She's quick to try and slip out when Stein calls time, but I'm on her tail.

"Leaving so soon?" I call as I catch up to her. She's got her head down, feet walking a million miles a minute. Everyone is attempting to exit at once, bodies squished against one another to free themselves from the dread that is a morning class.

"I have somewhere to be," she replies, facing forward.

"Okay, well, do you at least want to give me your number before you leave? Might be easier to organize how we'll get the project done?" It's true that I want to get the project started, but having a direct line to her also wouldn't hurt. I can't explain it, but the second she walked in that door, I had this deep pull to know her.

She stops in her tracks, a few students running into our backs before I usher us to the side. Thankfully she comes willingly, the both of us standing toe to toe as the final rush of Stein's students trickle out.

"Fine, but I'm only giving this to you for our project," she says, taking my phone from my hand.

I beam, unable to help myself.

"Scout's honor!" I lift my right hand over my heart. She scoffs. I love it . I could swear I see the side of her mouth twitch in a smile, but it's gone in an instant.

"I really do have to go," she says, handing my phone back to me. Without waiting for a reply, she's slipped away, disappearing into the masses. I'm left standing alone, my mind replaying our entire conversation. I don't need to spend another second with her to know. I'm in trouble.

My attention is stuck on images of the auburn-haired beauty as I drive back to my house. I spot Will's car out front as I pull my truck in. I know for a fact he's dating Vivian, Elanor's roommate. This could be my in.

As soon as I'm in the house, I beeline to him.

"So, what can you tell me about Eleanor Ivy?"

Will looks up at me, putting down his Intro to Philosophy book. His blond eyebrows rise slightly. "Why?"

I lift a shoulder. "We're partners for a project for Stein's class. Gonna be stuck together for a few months. Figured I should know who I'm with."

He stays silent, his lips turning up at the sides. "Don't bullshit me, Parker. I know you better than anyone." He pauses, sitting up. "You like her?"

My instinct is to be defensive. I don't have crushes on anyone. Everyone is just around for a good time not a long time. And that's the way I like it. But then there is Eleanor.

I lift a shoulder. "I'm intrigued by her." Rounding the couch, I motion for him to move over. He scoots, leaving the space next to him open and I take it. I sniff a few times, looking at the brown leather.

"This couch smells like Funyuns."

"Yeah, one of the guys left a packet on the couch and I sat on it." He shakes his head. "I can't seem to get the scent out."

"Ew," I mutter. I guess this is the cost of living with part of our hockey team. I lean backward, my arm brushing over what I'm assuming are uncleaned crumbs.

Note to self, clean the couch.

"Anyway, back to Eleanor. I have to say I'm surprised. Since when are you interested in having a girlfriend?"

I hold up my hands. "Let's not get carried away. I just want to know about her, not marry her."

He laughs. "Well, I can't tell you too much, because I don't really know her. Viv and I are new, so we don't really spend a lot of time talking about our roommates. But from what I gather, she's a no-bullshit girl who kind of keeps to herself. I haven't even been over to their apartment yet. Viv says Eleanor doesn't like visitors."

"Interesting," I reply. "Makes sense why my usual charm didn't work on her."

His eyes widen in horror. "Oh god, tell me you didn't use your lines on her."

My silence tells him otherwise.

"Dude, that girl is going to absolutely hate you. She's probably already written you off."

I scratch my head. "I'm gathering that. I don't even mean half the shit I'm saying to her."

"If I were you, I'd cool it with your false charm and just be your actual self. You've got a much better chance of winning her over that way. But a heads-up, Viv says she doesn't date. So maybe try just being a friend?"

I nod to myself. "Friends," I taste the word on my lips. "I can do that."

Operation Become Best Friends with Eleanor Ivy starts now. I just hope she doesn't try to kill me during my efforts.

Who am I kidding, it would be worth it.