2. The Hogwarts Situation

2

The Hogwarts Situation

Maxime

Alice's comment hits me hard. I know I've been busy these past few years, but I didn't know she felt like I'm not there for her when she needs me. We've always been close, even when I moved to Michigan for college and she stayed in France. But these days, we only live a few miles apart, yet we almost never see each other, and we talk even less than we used to.

I've been so focused on my career that everything else just got sidelined. And here I thought she was living the dream, opening her own bookstore with her friends, but I should have paid more attention. In other words, I've been a bad brother. Un mauvais frère.

"Don't be ridiculous, Max," Alice says, breaking my train of thought. "You don't have time to help us out. It'll take weeks, maybe months, to get this done. We'll be fine, so don't worry about us. You have your own career to think about."

A lump forms in my throat, or maybe the lump that was already lodged there has just gotten bigger? Because I'm pretty sure it's been there for a while now. Ever since I was drafted to the NHL three years ago as a sophomore in college. And while it was surreal to be first pick, and exactly what I'd worked toward all my life, it's now my reality. I have to deliver. I have to prove to the coaching staff, to the team, that they were right to bet on me. That the potential they saw in me truly is NHL material.

Hayley, Alice's friend, watches me curiously, her eyes bringing me back into focus. "I'll help. And I'll ask one of the guys on my team if he can join in. He comes from a family of builders." And unlike me, he probably has a clue where to start .

"You don't have to do that," Alice says, pulling her wavy hair into a ponytail.

"Yeah, really," Hayley chimes in, surprising me. "We're not exactly damsels in distress here. We can take care of ourselves."

Emma throws her a questioning look, but Hayley keeps her head high, challenging me with her eyes.

"I have no doubt about that," I say, fighting back a smile. "Damsel in distress" is definitely not what comes to mind when I look at her. Everything about Hayley inspires strength. Her broad, firm shoulders, the way she carries herself with confidence, and that cool, funky hairstyle that not many can pull off. "But I want to help. It'll be faster with a few extra hands." Plus, if Hawthorne agrees to come onboard, I'll get to spend some time with him outside training camp. And maybe, just maybe , my teammates will stop teasing me.

I know it's normal for a rookie to be hazed when he joins the team, and I'm the youngest of the crew—not to mention it's my NHL debut. But it's piling on loads of pressure I really don't need right now. I put plenty of pressure on myself as it is. Even if Adler and Miles are the team's jokesters and the instigators of most pranks, including the shaving cream pie I got served yesterday, Hawthorne is one of the most respected players of this team. He's alternate captain and has been here for two years. Maybe this one-on-one time will help tone the hazing down before the season starts.

"Well," Alice begins, looking for approval in her friends' eyes. "We could use some guidance and manpower."

"They're not exactly qualified, though," Emma retorts, as if I'm not even here. "But whatever. Can't get any worse."

Her enthusiasm is blinding.

"Fine with me," Hayley says, crossing her arms. "We don't really need them, but I doubt they'll slow us down." Her eyes pierce mine. "We're not paying you, though. You got that?"

Her sassy remark makes me smirk. "Of course. I never said anything about working for you. I said I'd help, and help is always free in my book."

Her chest is heaving, her deep brown eyes glued on me. "I thought you were about to say, ‘ Help is always given at Hogwarts to those who need it. '"

Emma and Alice laugh, and Hayley chuckles lightly. Yet the latter is the only sound I hear. It engulfs the empty room, bouncing between the walls.

I frown. "What's Hogwarts?"

Emma draws in a sharp breath, and they all stare at me with widened eyes .

"Please tell me you're kidding right now," Hayley says, taking a step toward me and awaiting my answer with an anxious stare.

"Um. No." Should I know what Hogwarts is?

Alice looks at her friends, shaking her head. "Yeah, he doesn't really read books."

Oh, so it's one of their bookish things. Makes sense. I don't have time for books, not to mention TV or video games. My work is my hobby, my pastime—it's everything I do.

"Wow. Okay," Hayley says, taking a step back. "Looks like you have a lot to learn, Alice's brother."

"Please, call me Max. Or ‘Babe,' whatever you prefer," I say with a wink. I don't know why, but I can't stop saying stupid, flirty things to Hayley. There's just something in her eyes, like a fire blazing, and it flares up even brighter when I flirt with her. I'm drawn to her like a magnet, even if she's far from my usual "type."

"And you can teach me anything you want," I add. Why can't I stop?

"In your dreams," she scoffs, her lips pursing.

Adrenaline pulses in my veins the same way it would before a game. "My wildest."

Emma clears her throat loudly, and I almost curse at her for interrupting my little exchange with Hayley. Is it weird that it made me feel alive? Lately, I've been spending most of my time alone or with the team, and I think the lack of feminine companions is starting to affect my brain.

"Yeah, stop, Max. This is getting gross," Alice adds, wrinkling her nose. Placing a hand on my back, she guides me to the exit, preventing me from casting one last look toward Hayley. I wonder if she enjoyed our moment together as much as I did. "Ask your friend and text me if you'll be able to help, d'accord ?"

" Bien s?r , sis. I'll ask at practice later."

I turn around to say goodbye to Emma and Hayley, but they're now deep in conversation and don't spare a glance my way. Well, I guess I have my answer.

Alice swats me on the head.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"Non . You leave my friend alone. She doesn't want to date anyone. Hayley has been through enough, so let it go."

If you ask me, that's exactly why she'd need me. I could make her forget her problems. After all, I'm the perfect rebound guy. We'd have some fun, and I'd make her laugh. Who's funnier than me?

I open my mouth to plead my case, but she jabs her finger in my chest. "I mean it, Max. You have enough skate chasers to last you a lifetime, and I'm sure there are more on the way, so stay away from my friends."

She's not wrong. But the women who throw themselves at me lost their appeal a while ago. Sure, it's always nice to be desired, and I've had some fun with my admirers, but even in college, it was already starting to get old.

I hold my hands up. "Fine. I was just playing around anyway."

It's true. Dating is the last thing on my mind right now. Hockey is my top priority. Legitimizing my draft and improving my game every day are the only things that matter. I just lost track of that for a nanosecond. For once, the fire inside me didn't spark to life from playing hockey, and that took me off guard as much as it drew me in. There's something in Hayley's gaze that's hard to ignore. She looks so different from the girls I've dated. Not because she didn't throw herself at me, or even because of her badass hair. It's just the glimpse I got of her personality, and the thirst to prove herself that's hiding behind her eyes. For a second, it was like looking into a mirror.

"Bye, Max. Let me know, okay?"

"Um, oui ." I nod firmly, then walk out into the scorching September heat. Yet somehow, it's nothing compared to the furnace raging inside me.

I really need to figure out what this Hogwarts thing is all about. I grab my phone from my pocket, not slowing my pace on my walk to the arena. Opening the browser app, I start typing, but Coach's face takes over the screen. I glance at my watch. Merde . I'm two minutes late.

That's what I get for trying to flirt with my sister's friend when I should be focused on hockey. Breaking into a run, I hurry to the arena at breakneck speed.

Applause and whistles fill the locker room when I burst in. I'm sweaty and panting way too heavily for a pro athlete.

"Look who's joining us today."

"Nice of you to show up, Beaumont."

"The Hair is in the house!"

Does it matter that I'm an hour early to practice every day to get some extra work done? Nope, but it matters that I'm nine minutes late today. Rookies don't have room for mistakes.

I get dressed in record time, and a few guys are still taping their sticks when I get to mine. When Coach enters the room, the chatter dials down. We've been at training camp for almost ten days with one week to go. Since Coach is new to the team too, we're doing a longer camp before preseason kicks off.

He asks us to practice shooting drills, and I go hard at it. And then, even harder. But luck doesn't strike, and I finish training with zero goals to my name. Great way to redeem myself for being tardy.

Next, we move to conditioning drills and offensive plays. All in all, my performance wasn't terrible, but it was far from my best. Far from NHL level.

"That was good, guys," Coach says with a nod once we file back into the locker rooms. "Hawthorne, I want to see more of that. Wilcott, that's exactly what I'm looking for. Beaumont, you can do better. Perhaps arriving on time would help."

A few sneers are thrown my way before transforming into full chatter as Coach leaves the room.

"Hey, Hawthorne." I approach him as he tucks his helmet into the cubby of his locker. "Can I ask you something?"

"What's up, Frenchie Boy? Need help with your hair?"

I force myself to laugh. Since day one, the guys have been making fun of my hair. Or rather, the fact that I just style it like a normal human being would. And because I don't practice with my helmet on. I like my short wavy hair, and I don't want it to start falling out prematurely. Sue me. Plus, girls always love to ruffle my hair, so joke's on them.

"My sister and her friends are opening a bookstore in Warlington Lane, and their contractor's in the wind. They're planning to finish the place themselves—mostly painting and building shelves. If I remember right, you said your dad was a contractor and you worked with him in your downtime. Would you mind stopping by, maybe to lend a hand or just to guide them in the right direction?"

Caleb arches an eyebrow, then rubs his black beard. "Sure. I'll stop by. No promises, though. I'm far from a professional."

"Oh, no. Don't worry about it. They already know."

"Did you say sister?" Aaron Miles interrupts, adjusting his cap on his head. "I didn't know you had family around here, Frenchie Boy."

"Nope." I cross my arms. "Your hearing's all wrong."

"Yup," Adler says, his deep blue eyes gleaming. "He definitely said sister."

I sit back down on the bench as the guys come at me louder. What have I gotten myself into?

Locker room rule number one: never mention the word sister . Ever.

"What's going on here?" Coach asks, having been attracted by all the ruckus .

"We just learned Beaumont has a sister who's opening a bookstore in Warlington," Miles says. "And she and her friends need some help putting it together."

Coach folds his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Is that right, Beaumont?"

I reluctantly nod. "I was just asking Hawthorne for some help since he knows a thing or two about—"

"Good idea." Coach cuts me off, clasping his hands. "It's the perfect team-building exercise. You'll actually build something together while helping the community. I like it. You're all going."

A wave of growls ripples around the room. Coach is big on team-building exercises. Last week, we spent the entire day on an Air Force base, training with them. As exciting as it was, I'd take helping my sister every day—and night—for years over jumping out of a plane again. Heights are not exactly my thing.

"No excuses," Coach thunders. "It's mandatory. Starting tomorrow, you'll go there every day after practice and on your days off until the project is done or the season starts. Whichever comes first." With that, he leaves the dressing room.

The disapproving chatter resurfaces. Funny how they all wanted to go meet my sister five seconds ago, but now they're cursing me .

"Let's just hope his sister and her friends are hot," Karlin says, triggering a surge of irritation that courses through me.

Weirdly enough, it's only the "friend" part that's responsible for it.