Chapter 56: As a Cheerleader?

The phone on my desk vibrated against the wood, the glowing caller ID pulsing with Drew’s name.

Priya hovered by the edge of my bed, her eyes wide as she gestured wildly toward the phone. "Well, Bookworm?" she whispered. "Are you answering?"

I picked up the phone, taking a quiet breath to steady my pulse before sliding the green button and placing the receiver against my ear.

"Hey, Drew," I said, keeping my voice light and calm.

"Nora!" Drew’s warm, familiar voice came through the speaker. "Hey. Hope I’m not calling too late."

"Not at all. Just finishing up some study notes," I replied, leaning against the edge of the desk. "How are you doing? How’s classes going?"

"Good, but crazy," Drew said with a casual tone that was laced with subtle excitement. "I’m actually heading up to Briar Wednesday afternoon. I’m guessing you know State is playing Briar on Friday, considering you’re dating their captain."

I tapped my fingernail against the desk, keeping my face completely impassive even as my mind began connecting the dots. Wednesday afternoon.

"Hard to miss when it’s all anyone on campus is talking about," I said smoothly, without dropping a single hint that Knox had already shown me State’s game film. "What, are you coming down as a cheerleader?"

Drew let out a soft, genuine laugh over the line. "A cheerleader? Ouch, Bennett. You’ll just have to wait until Friday to see what role I’m playing. But I was hoping maybe I could swing by and grab a quick coffee with you before things get busy?"

Priya mouthed Coffee?! across the room, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

I kept my tone perfectly grounded. "I’d love to, Drew, but Wednesdays are packed. I have back-to-back lectures and tutoring until six, and athletic compliance keeps my schedule on a tight leash."

"Right. Sheridan’s compliance," Drew said, his tone dipping slightly into a quiet, serious reserve. "Still keeping that hockey captain on the straight and narrow?"

"Trying to," I replied evenly. "Good luck with your... role on Friday, Drew."

"Thanks, Nora," Drew said softly. "I guess I’ll see you around."

"Goodnight, Drew."

I ended the call and lowered the phone. Priya let out a low whistle from the bed.

"Look at you," Priya grinned. "Master of the poker face. You didn’t give him an inch."

"If he wants to keep secrets until Friday, he can play by his own rules," I said, setting the phone down. "Now let me get back to these supply curves."

—

By four o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, Study Room 4C in the basement of the Briar library smelled of dry-erase markers and damp autumn coats.

I stood by the whiteboard, recapping the green marker in my hand.

Knox sat backward in a wooden chair, arms folded over the top rail. He wore a dark grey Briar Athletics hoodie with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. He hadn’t touched his textbook all afternoon, but his gaze tracked every line I drew on the board.

"You’re not looking at the elasticity curve, Sheridan," I said, pointing the marker toward the graph.

"I’m looking at you, Bennett," Knox murmured.

My chest tightened, but I kept my chin up and shot him a cool glare. "Staring at me doesn’t get you a B-plus on Thursday’s quiz."

Knox uncoiled his long frame from the chair and stood up. He walked over to the whiteboard, his sneakers making no noise on the linoleum, and stopped right beside me.

The heat radiating off his broad shoulders was instant. He reached up, taking the dry-erase marker from my fingers, his knuckles brushing against mine.

"I don’t need a B-plus," Knox said, leaning over my shoulder as he uncapped the marker. His chest brushed against the back of my shoulder, his warm breath fanning against the sensitive skin of my neck. "I just need to make sure you haven’t forgotten our deal."

My pulse hammered against my ribs, but I forced my voice to stay even.

"Which deal? The one where I save your academic eligibility, or the one where you arrogant jocks treat high-stakes hockey like a personal vendetta?"

Knox’s lips grazed the shell of my ear as a slow, wicked smirk spread across his face.

"The deal where I beat State clean on Friday," he whispered, his low voice vibrating through my chest. "And I take you onto the ice to teach you how to skate."

I turned my head slightly, meeting his dark, intense gaze from inches away. "You’re very confident for a guy whose head coach spent an hour screaming about State’s defensive coverage this morning."

Knox’s smirk faded slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened. He snapped the cap onto the marker and set it back on the tray.

"State’s defensive coverage is predictable," Knox growled softly, stepping even closer until I was trapped between his broad frame and the whiteboard tray. "Their line plays rigid. They think they can slow down my pace."

"They have a new starting center," I reminded him, keeping my voice steady despite the electric heat between us. "And you’ve been hyper-fixated on his game film since yesterday morning."

"I’m fixated on winning," Knox growled, his hand reaching out to rest flat on the whiteboard right beside my head, blocking me in. "On Friday, your high school buddy is just another target in a black jersey."

Before I could answer, the door to Study Room 4C burst open.

Barrett "Bear" stood in the doorway, his massive 6’5" frame filling the frame, holding a tablet in his hand. Bear’s expression was unusually grim.

"Sheridan," Bear called in a flat voice. "Coach wants the team in the film room. Right now."

Knox didn’t move for a long second, his eyes staying locked on mine before he slowly pulled his hand back from the wall.

"What happened, Bear?" Knox asked, turning toward the doorway.

Bear held up the tablet, turning the screen toward us. State University’s official athletic department had just posted their final game-day roster update for Friday night.

Across the top of the announcement, bold capital letters read:

STATE UNIVERSITY ANNOUNCES NEW TEAM CAPTAIN: #11 DREW MILLER.

The room went dead silent.

I looked from the screen to Knox.

Knox stared at the glowing tablet, his jaw tightening as his eyes turned cold.

Captain #19 Knox Sheridan vs. Captain #11 Drew Miller.

Knox didn’t say a word. He grabbed his gym bag off the desk, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out into the corridor.