Page 20 of Ricochet

I wish I wouldn’t keep finding new reasons to hate him.

Why couldn’t he forget?

And why do I think all of it bothers me for reasons it shouldn’t?

Keeping my eyes off ofCallum is getting more and more damn difficult.

There are more reasons than one for why I haven’t allowed myself to look at him when he takes his shirt off. It’s not just out of respect because I know how much it probably bothered him that I had seen him that day.

I’m sure he still has scars.

Between the protective side of me and the beast, I’m not sure how they would react at seeing them. Those two halves of me would blend together, ignite like a match, and cause some kind of cosmic explosion.

Without anyone left to kill for him, they’d have nothing to feast on.

They’d end up feasting on him instead.

They’ve already reared their ugly heads when it came to provoking him enough to unleash some of that pent up fury. Sure, I’ve caused a lot of it. But I meant everything I told him. Heneeds to be able to face me off the ice if we have any chance of playing well togetheronit.

Clearly I was right.

It was worth the swollen, split lip.

A few of the guys asked me about it during practice.

“You know. The classic ran into a door,” is what I told them.

“Piss someone off, huh?” Brooks had asked with a smirk. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Unlike Callum, Brooks doesn’t hold a grudge.

Fortunately, we’ve had several more successful practices over the past week. And it hasn’t cost me another split lip, so that’s a plus.

Even Fitz is improving.

Our first game is in two weeks, and I’m feeling a hell of a lot more confident about it than I was when I first got here. I wasn’t sure if Callum and I were ever going to actually be able to play like a team, but our chemistry on the ice is surprisingly undeniable. With every pass, the puck finds our tape as if there’s a tether connecting us, constantly aware of each other’s presence. Our speed is matched, always the first two to reach the blue line on sprint drills.

Off the ice, however, is still another matter.

I’ve continued sitting next to him in our anatomy class. Mostly because I can’t seem to leave him alone. In my defense, at least I’ve made more of an effort to be less irritating.

He still shoots me those occasional glares of his like he wants to punch me again. Our verbal sparring might have died down some, but it’s been replaced by a lot of tense silence. However, he’s no longer demanding or begging me to leave him alone.

Progress. Baby steps.

Let’s call it part of off-ice conditioning.

Our first lab is today, and when I get to the classroom, Callum is already there.

I probably shouldn’t.

But of course I’m going to anyway.

Walking across the room to the lab table he’s sitting at, I plop my ass onto the stool right beside him.

He looks up from his sketchbook, and his jaw immediately goes tight.

“No,” he says as he shakes his head. “No fucking way are we going to be lab partners. Haven’t you tortured me enough as it is?”