“How do you know about that?” The words came out through gritted teeth.
“Dude, there are posters everywhere. Sarah said she’s seen them in like three different bathrooms just today.”
No, no, no.
This was not happening.
My phone chose that moment to buzz with a text. I pulled it out with shaking hands.
Ava
Are you aware that your face is currently plastered in women’s bathrooms all over campus advertising a bad hookup review site? Please tell me this is some kind of joke.
Another text came through immediately after.
Ava
Because if it’s not a joke, I’m going to kill whoever did this to you.
I showed Liam the texts, and watched his expression shift from confusion to understanding to barely suppressed laughter.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “This isn’t just one poster, is it?”
“Apparently not,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Who hates you enough to—” He stopped before he could finish the sentence, coming to the same conclusion I had.
Only one person on this campus hated me enough to pull this kind of stunt.
Harper Fucking Tinsley.
I no longer felt guilty for how I’d made her feel after her recital because fuck her.
I crumpled the poster tighter in my fist. “This isn’t over.”
“Drew—”
“No. She wants to play dirty? Fine. Game fucking on.”
FIVE
The puck hit the back of the net so hard I thought it might tear through. Perfect shot, upper right corner, exactly where I’d been aiming.
“Holy shit, Drew,” Liam panted, skating over to where I was already lining up for another shot. “What’s gotten into you today? You’re playing like a man possessed.”
I fired another puck toward the goal, this one sailing past Gordy’s glove with enough force to rattle the net. “Just warming up.”
“Warming up?” Foster glided over, pulling off his helmet. Our captain looked equal parts impressed and concerned. “You’ve been dominating every drill for the past hour. If this is warming up, I can’t wait to see what game-ready looks like.”
“Maybe I’m just tired of losing to Bozeman,” I said, scooping up another puck. MSU was on a winning streak, and we’d no doubt face them if we could make it to the conference championships in a few weeks.
Gordy skated out of the goal, shaking his head. “Yousure that’s it?”
Coach Maxwell’s whistle shrieked across the ice. “Alright, guys, bring it in!”
We skated over to the boards where Coach was waiting, and I could feel the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. But at least I finally had somewhere to channel all the anger, frustration, and rage I’d felt all weekend long. Being on the ice gave me a sense of focus and control that I desperately needed.
“That is exactly the kind of energy I want to see Friday and Saturday when we play against Northern,” Coach said, pointing at me. “Dumontier’s been playing with a killer instinct out there all practice.”
