CHAPTER 1
Hutch
I’m late.
Professor Marks is going to murder me. He already hates me because he despises all professional athletes. He thinks none of us actually want to learn shit. Which might be true for some, but not me.
I’m too terrified of my mother not to do well in school and graduate. She busted her ass to get me here and I’ll be damned if I disappoint her. If it weren’t for her working three jobs to pay for all the hockey camps and gear, I wouldn’t be sitting at a Division One school doing what I love. All she asked of me was to actually graduate with a degree I could use.
Thank God it’s my last year, though. Classes that aren’t deemed “token” classes for athletes are hard and it was all I could do to keep up last year. I’m not looking forward to this year since this is the year I have to get picked up by an actual NHL team and maintaining my grades under that kind of pressure isn’t going to be easy.
Scouts have been calling Coach, and not just about me. Several of my team members, some of them freshmen, are garnering a lot of attention. I turned down two offers and the draft my sophomore year and I’m still terrified it was a huge mistake. Granted, they weren’t major teams, but itwasthe NHL. No one turns down a draft invitation either. Until I did.
Turning the corner, I don’t even have time to stop before I plow head-first into a dainty bundle topped with dark red hair and she bounces back, landing on her ass. Green eyes blink up at me with not a flicker of recognition in them.
Now that’s interesting.
“I’m sorry.” I drop to my knees and start gathering her things together. “I didn’t see you when you came around the corner.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft and musical and has a distinct accent, one I’m not familiar with. “I’m late, got turned around, and wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“I’m late too.” I flash her a grin, but she’s not even looking at me. She’s too busy trying to gather the books scattered all around her.
“Oh my God, it’s him!”
My eyes close. I’m not in the mood to deal with fans even if I’m supposed to. It’s part of the image, especially if I want to get picked up by a team. I can’t look like I’m being rude or brushing them off. Normally, I don’t mind smiling and playing the part, but I actually resent the interruption right now. In front of this girl who doesn’t seem to know me.
She looks at me and then to the girls coming up on us at a fast pace. She frowns, but there’s still no recognition in her gaze.
“Hutch!” one of them squeals.
“Who?” She looks at me quizzically.
She really has no idea who I am. It’s a new experience. Even back in high school everyone knew me. Now that I’m thenumber one center in college hockey, it’s almost impossible to go anywhere without being recognized, especially here on campus.
“Hutch,” one of the girls answers the redhead, contempt in her voice.
“Uh…this is my friend, Jamie.”
My entire being stills at her lie. She looks confused enough I’d buy the lie.
“What?” another girl asks. “That’s Hutch.”
“Uh, no. This is Jamie. We were walking to class together and I tripped.”
I keep my head down, more thankful than I can say as the girls go quiet. I pick up the rest of her things and hand them to her.
“Ready?” She asks and stands, reaching a hand out to me. I take it and nod, letting her pull me up. She grunts a little and I can’t help but smirk. She’s probably more than a foot shorter than me and when I’m standing, I’m right. She barely comes to my shoulder.
Wrapping an arm around her, I steer us toward my own class, not wanting to turn around and let the girls see they were right. Short stuff goes with it and waves to the girls.
Once we’re out of sight, I let her go. “Thanks for that.”
She shrugs. “You stopped to help me. A lot of guys wouldn’t.”
“I’m Hutch.”
“Yeah, I figured. Crap, I’m late.” She starts to head back the way we came.
