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“I heard you’re giving my girl, Noel, here some trouble.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, my girl, Dr. Woodcock.”
Both boys’ eyes widen, and they glance at each other with panicked expressions. “No, sir. Of course not!” The blond one defends.
All five guys cross their arms at the same time, standing from their seats to stare down at the boys. “Dr. Woodcock is our favorite teacher!” the other one says, his voice cracking like he’s about to cry.
“Is that right?” Colby asks. “You realize how important it is to take your studies seriously? To work your hardest?”
Bruce weighs in, being serious for once. “I worked my tail off in college before getting drafted. And that was a cake walk compared to playing in the NHL.”
Mitch grunts. “We’re always working. Between games, training, and media nonsense.”
West nudges him in the side, probably warning him to watch his language. “We love it, and we’re grateful we get to do what we love. But consider college a part of your training, training in hard work and perseverance.”
Remy steps forward one intimidating step. “And always respect the people who have your best interest at heart. Such as your professors.”
The boys swallow, still look terrified, they both mumble yes sir.
All five giant hockey players relax their shoulders and smile, even Mitch. I can tell they practiced this whole thing, which makes me giddy in a way I can’t explain. I feel… rescued. And it’s obvious which one of them orchestrated this entire intervention. Colby pulls a black, permanent marker out of his backpack. “Okay, now do you want our signatures?”
The boys nod emphatically, finally relaxing into easy smiles.
When the hockey boys turn to leave the lecture hall, everything they’re wearing has signatures on it. Their sweatshirts, hats, jeans. They look elated.
The dark-haired one turns to me before he reaches the door. “We’ll start working harder, Dr. Woodcock. Promise.”
The blond one gives me a genuine smile. “We’ll even join the study group to get our grades up.”
“Good. Happy to hear it.” I smile back and they exit, closing the door behind them.
The six of us burst into laughter the moment the door clicks. “How did you guys find my classroom?”
West shrugs. “Mel may have helped.”
“Of course, she did. And the Lisa Frank notebooks? Nice touch.”
“Andie had a bunch of them from when she was a kid,” Mitch adds, acting bashful about the whole thing.
As if someone would think this giant of a man was somehow less masculine because he touched a pink notebook with a purple sea turtle on the cover. All five of them ooze masculinity in a way I’ve never seen before. The whole tough, strong, sexy hockey player thing is certainly working for them. Especially Colby. But there’s something softer about him than the others. He’s sweeter, not as rough around the edges. I can picture him holding a baby, or baking cupcakes, playing Barbies with his little sister, or even being a cat dad. I don’t know how I didn’t notice this before, other than I chose not to notice, because I didn’t want to. Because I wanted to protect myself. I never wanted to fall for another playboy-athlete.
But Colby is much more than that.
He’s a person who brings people together. He’s someone who can host an impromptu BBQ between two families who are total opposites and who’ve never met before. He’s a man who can, despite traveling for an away game, wrangle all of his teammates into sticking up for a friend. He’s a friend who’s always caring for those he loves and thinking of ways to make them smile.
And what I wouldn’t give to be that. To be someone he loves.
I realize I’m staring at Colby, probably with hero-worship written all over my face. Colby’s teammates glance between the two of us, mumbling about how they’ll meet him in the car.
When it’s just Colby and I left in the lecture hall, the silence is thick. Our breathing is in sync, our chests rising and falling with every second that passes by.
“So,” I finally say. “You’re back from your trip?”
His hand flexes at his side, and I wonder if it’s because he wants to touch me as badly as I want to touch him. I hope that’s the reason. “Yeah. We won.” He grins. “Hey, are you free for dinner? We could grab dinner at Pancake Palace and discuss your… lessons.” He swallows on the last word and his voice goes all deep and raspy. “You mentioned you needed one more?”
“Yeah, I need help with something.” My face goes hot. “Pancake Palace tonight sounds good.” I clear my throat, since it’s suddenly feeling thick. “Will it be… private? Like last time?”
He nods. “Yeah, the manager always clears the main room for me. I already reserved my booth a week ago. I’m always hungry for pancakes after an away game.”
I chuckle. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
