The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

I shake my head, biting my lip. “No.”

“I’d heard rumors,” she continues like I haven’t spoken, “that he was on campus to train with his old coach—our team’s coach—but I figured it was just that. Rumors.” She shrugs. “He was injured really bad,” she explains. “Broke his leg or something. He missed out on half of last season, and I heard that the Plymouth Hunters might be dropping him after this season regardless of whether or not his leg is okay.” She nods, her lips pressed together. “Lots of drama in hockey. It’s delicious.”

I can’t help but laugh as we start down the cobblestone path to our classes. “Elle, you know, you’re nothing like what I thought.”

She bumps my hip with hers. “Neither are you, Miss Priss.” We start to part ways when she calls out, “If you think the conversation about Bennett is over, you’re mistaken. I need details. All of them.” She waggles her brows suggestively and then turns completely away.

I’m sure she’s imagining things to be much juicier than they are, and I’ll have to crush her dreams later.

I take a deep breath and step into the building that houses my English class. I think it’s so stupid that I have to spend the majority of my first two years at college studying the basics before I can delve into my major. It’s a necessary evil, though, so I suck it up and search for the correct lecture hall. I know I look like a major dweeb searching the building, but hey, better that than sitting through the wrong class like Ryland.

I finally locate the room and startle at the amount of people already in the room. I thought I was early.

“Excuse me,” I say softly, shuffling past a girl setting up her laptop and a guy texting. He’s not paying attention and I trip over his feet falling right in his lap.

“Oomph,” he breathes out on impact.

I’m practically sprawled across the poor guy’s lap and I quickly jump up like I’m on fire.

“I am so sorry,” I apologize quickly, my cheeks flaming red. I avoid looking at him and sprint down to the other end of the aisle, dropping into one of the chairs. I can feel him staring at me, and my mortification grows. All I want is for a huge gaping hole to open up and swallow me whole. That’d be lovely.

I keep waiting for him to say something and embarrass me further, but by some miracle, he doesn’t say anything.

The class fills up steadily while I pull out my laptop so I’ll be ready to take notes. A few people fill in the seats between me and the guy I fell on. Thank God. I couldn’t take his staring any longer.

The professor comes in and introduces himself. He’s tall with graying hair and black glasses. He’s dressed in a suit and tie with shiny black shoes. There’s something regal about him—like he came from royalty and knows he’s better than you.

“I’m Professor Hanagen. I take

my classes seriously and I expect you to do the same. Conduct yourselves in a professional manner or I’ll ask you to leave and drop my class.” He crosses his hands together. “I’m going to pass out the roll sheet. Check off your name from the list—you will be required to do this every class. Whatever seat you’ve chosen will be yours until the end of the semester so I hope you like it.” He grabs a sheet of paper, clipboard, and pen, and hands it to the student nearest him.

“Is this guy for real?” the girl beside me hisses under her breath.

Professor Hanagen immediately launches into his lecture and I scramble to type fast enough. All around me, the clacking of keyboards fills the air.

Forty-five minutes later, class ends and my fingers ache. I pack up my stuff as the room empties out.

“Hey.”

Oh, shit.

I know, without even looking up, that it’s the guy I fell on.

Lovely.

“Hi,” I say reluctantly, looking up into impossibly-blue eyes. His blond hair is shaggy and his skin is tanned like he spends a lot of time outside.

“I thought I should introduce myself after that whole … incident.” He points over his shoulder to his chair. “I’m Tanner.”

I want to say that he most certainly didn’t need to introduce himself, but considering I’m the one that sat in his lap, I kind of owe the guy. “Grace,” I say, giving him a small smile. “I’m really sorry about that.”

He shrugs. “S’okay.”

I stand and grab my backpack. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” I say rather fast, trying to get past him. “I need to get to my next class.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he mumbles. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say quickly, scurrying down the aisle and out the door.