"Your skin without your scars would be like the sky without the stars."
Dominic
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"Late again, Mr West."
Madame Veron raises a brow as I step into French class, thirty minutes late.
I tip my head toward her, barely listening, already scanning the classroom for my usual seat beside Roman at the back. My eyes have a mind of their own, though, because instead of landing on my chair, they seek her out.
She's sitting one row away, not by her choice. Today, her blonde hair is pulled back into a loose braid, and a grin tugs at the corners of my lips when I catch her doodling absentmindedly in her notebook, completely oblivious to my stare.
So fucking beautiful.
No. You're supposed to be mad at her, asshole.
She's the one who showed up in the middle of the night demanding I go home with her.
Mad. At. Her.
"Ah-em" Madame Veron clears her throat expectantly, snapping me back to reality just as those brown eyes flick up and meet mine.
Mad. At. Her.
I tear my gaze away and stride toward my seat.
"Look who the cat dragged in." Roman drawls as I slump into my seat, my head jumping skipping ropes in my head thanks to the shit I shamefully snorted at the back of the PE hall with Alec and the other fuck-ups.
I ignore Roman, waiting for the teasing remark I'm expecting from Willa. I wait, and nothing comes out her mouth.
For a week, this has been my life. Before, she barely acknowledged meânow, she doesn't even pretend I exist.
Say something. Anything. Tease me, yell at me, scream at meâjust fucking say something.
It's been a week since she put herself in danger. A fucking week of trying not to overthink the fact that Eli knows who she is now.
But the girl next to me doesn't seem to give a single fuck about the storm she's caused inside me. Instead, she just blows her pink bubblegum and glares at the whiteboard like I'm not sitting right here.
I push a hand into myâvery emptyâbag and pull out a pack of strawberry gum. Without a word, I toss it onto her desk.
Fucking pussy whipped.
She turns her glare to the strawberry gum in front of her, hesitating for a second before she snatches it up and shoves it into her bag.
One...two...three-
"This doesn't mean I'm cool with you. I'm not cool with you at all, at freaking all." She hisses at me, a smile on my lips I take my time enjoying this sight of her.
So fucking adorable.
She whips her head back to the whiteboard, trying to ignore me, but she only lasts thirty seconds before turning to glare at Roman.
"I blame you for this you know-" she hisses at Roman, who stares at her with a amusing expression on his face-"if you had just ignored him in first grade, he wouldn't be here!"
Roman looks between usâme, smirking, and Willa, face burning red. "I'm not the one who was in love withâ"
A pencil nails him square in the forehead.
Roman gapes at her, rubbing his face, while Willa scowls at both of us. "Don't start with me, Roman White!"
"Willa Myers!" Madame Veron's sharp voice cuts through the class. "What in God's name do you think you're doing?" The rest of our classmates all turn their heads to stare at us, relishing in our entertainment we provided them.
Willa pouts her lips, conjuring up tears in seconds as she points her finger at us. "I'm sorry, miss. Roman and Dominic called me fat."
I glare at her.
What the fuck?!
"Roman, Dominic! See me after class," Madame Veron orders, her tone scathing before softening for Willa. "Willa, I'm so sorry."
Roman groans, muttering a string of curses under his breath. "Unbelievable."
I drop my face into my hands. One more detention, and I'm stuck with after-school punishment for the rest of senior year.
"Miss-" Roman starts to protest but stops abruptly from a hard glare from our French teacher.
Willa beams at me innocently. I narrow my eyes.
"You bitch." I mutter, her eyes narrow as she hisses back. "Wanker."
"Witch."
"Dick."
"Sorry, Madame Veron," a deep voice interrupts, and I snap my head toward the door.
Oh, fuck.
Coach Daniels stands there, arms crossed.
"May I take Dominic out of your hands for a while?"
"Of course, Coach," Madame Veron says, blushing as she waves me out of my seat.
I grab my bag, but before I can stand, Roman shoves my desk, making me stumble. I slap him upside the head on my way out.
Coach Daniels leads me through the hallway in silence, his heavy footsteps echoing against the linoleum floors. I already know what this is about. He's been on my case for years, always saying the same thing: Stay out of trouble, West. You've got potential. Don't waste it.
I shove my hands in my pockets, my mind still lingering on Willa and that smug little smirk she shot me before I left the classroom. Fucking menace. My fucking menace.
"Have a seat," Daniels says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk as he closes the office door. I sink into it, slouching back with an exhale, waiting for the lecture.
"You've been racking up quite the record so far this year." He leans against his desk, crossing his arms. "That last detention pushed you close to automatic after-school duty for the rest of the year."
I roll my tongue against the inside of my cheek, not bothering to confirm what we both already know.
"That's why I have a deal for you."
That gets my attention. "A deal?"
Daniels nods. "You're going to join the hockey team."
The second the words leave his mouth, my whole body goes rigid.
"No." My voice is flat, automatic.
He raises a brow, like he expected my answer but isn't buying it. "You didn't even hear me out."
"I don't need to." My fists clench against my thighs. "Not happening."
Coach Daniels studies me for a long moment before he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. "Look, West. You're a damn good skater. You've got the strength, the speed, and the aggression for it. And let's be honestâyou're already on thin ice." His lips twitch, like he just realized the irony of his words. "No pun intended."
I don't react.
He presses on. "You join the team, you show up, you put in the effort, and I'll make sure those detentions get wiped off your record. Keep your nose clean, and maybe you'll actually get out of this place without screwing up your future."
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "You think me playing a game is gonna fix everything?"
Daniels shrugs. "I think structure helps. And I know you, West. You've got talent. You used to play, didn't you?"
The back of my neck prickles. Used to.
Yeah, I used to play. I used to be good. I also used to have a father who actually looked at me like I was worth something.
I glance away. "That was a long time ago."
"But you were good," Daniels presses. "And you still could be."
I don't answer. I don't want to think about it. About the ice. About the way my dad used to drive me to every game, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white when I messed up a shot. About how every time I lost, I lost a little more of him too.
I exhale sharply. "I said no."
Daniels doesn't react, just watches me, his voice quieter now. "You're scared."
My jaw locks. "No, I'm not."
"Yeah, you are." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You don't want to join because it's what your dad wanted, and if you fail, then you'll prove him right. That you're a disappointment."
My entire body goes stiff.
"You don't know shit." I say, already having enough of these conversation.
"Thing is," Daniels continues, "you're already proving him right by not even trying."
I force myself to breathe evenly, but my fingers twitch with the urge to hit something. Fuck him. Fuck this conversation.
"I don't give a shit what he thinks," I mutter.
Coach Daniels tilts his head. "Then why are you so pissed off right now?"
I clench my fists.
Silence stretches between us. I don't know if I want to break something or walk out, but neither option will change the fact that he's right.
I inhale through my nose. Exhale.
Then, finally, I mutter, "Fine."
Daniels grins. "You start next week."
I push up from the chair. "Can I go now?"
He nods, and I don't wait before heading for the door, eager to get out of there.
I make it about ten steps down the hall before I almost crash into someone.
Emma.
She looks up at me, all soft smiles and wide eyes, her perfectly styled dark hair falling over her shoulder. I groan internally, long before me and Willa evolved our friendship, when I was 12 I had made the stupid mistake of giving Emma what belonged to Willa. My virginity. The whole ordeal is a blaze, I can't remember a thing about it only that that night my dad had come back from a long work trip.
"Dom!" She reaches out, her fingers brushing my arm. "I was just looking for you."
I take a step back, shaking off her touch. "What do you want?"
Her lips pull into a pout. "You don't have to be so cold, you know." She tilts her head, eyeing me.
"I've been busy," I reply flatly. Truth is I don't want to touch another girl, I don't want to even look at another girl if it isn't Willa.
She smirks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Too busy for me?"
"Yes."
Her expression falters, just for a second, before she recovers. "Well, maybe we could change that. You and me. We used to have fun, remember?"
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. "Emma, I don't know how to make this any clearerâI'm not interested."
She blinks, surprised, like she didn't expect me to just say it. But before she can respond, I step around her and walk off. I don't have time for this shit.
By the time I make it to the cafeteria, my head is still spinning from that conversation with Coach Daniels. I don't even know how the hell I let myself get talked into this.
Back on the hockey team.
The thought sits heavy in my chest, like a weight pressing down on my ribs. I haven't played in yearsânot since everything with my dad. Since the last game I lost and saw the exact moment he stopped believing in me.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair as I step into the lunch line.
"There he is," Roman's voice rings out, and before I know it, he's slamming his tray down next to mine with an exaggerated huff. "The golden boy himself."
I glance at him, unimpressed. "What the hell are you whining about now?"
"Oh, I don't know," he says, throwing a hand in the air dramatically. "Maybe the fact that I got stuck in detention and you somehow got a free pass?" He scoffs. "Willa straight-up lied about us calling her fat, and she gets away with it? I swear, man, the world is rigged."
I smirk. "Should've thrown her pencil at me instead. Might've been more convincing."
Roman grumbles something under his breath before shooting me a curious look. "So, what did Coach want, anyway?"
I hesitate for half a second, then sigh. "I'm back on the team."
Roman freezes mid-motion, his mouth hanging open in shock. Then, all at once, his face splits into a grin. "No fucking way."
I grab a tray, shrugging. "Yeah."
He claps a hand on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. "Dude, this is great! Alec and I have been carrying this team on our backsâyou're finally saving us."
I roll my eyes, but his excitement is impossible to ignore.
"You really think I'm about to save anything?" I mutter, grabbing a water bottle from the cooler.
"Hell yeah," Roman says, nodding eagerly. "You were a beast on the ice, man. Coach is lucky as shit you agreed."
Lucky. Right.
I exhale through my nose, shoving down the anxiety creeping into my chest.
Roman keeps talking, going on about how Alec is going to lose his mind when he finds out, but my attention wavers.
Willa.
She's standing in the line just ahead of us, talking to Ben Carter.
My mood sours instantly.
Ben.
Another hockey player. Decent player on the ice. Golden boy, straight A's, and a way too fucking charming smile.
And Willa is eating it right up.
She's laughing at something he said, tilting her head in that way she does when she's actually interested in the conversation. And Ben? He's standing too close. Talking too easy. Looking at her like he's got a fucking chance.
My jaw locks.
Roman follows my gaze and lets out a low whistle. "Oh, that's what we're doing now."
I glare at him. "Shut up."
He grins, nudging my arm. "Dude. Stop looking so jealous."
"I'm not jealous," I snap, but my hands curl into fists at my sides.
Roman snorts. "Right. That's why you look like you're five seconds away from tackling him into the counter."
I ignore him, forcing myself to stay in place. But every second that Ben is near her, my patience gets thinner.
Then Ben leans in just a little too close.
That's it.
I step forward. "Willa."
She turns, blinking at me in surprise.
Ben glances over, arching a brow. "Yo, West. What's up?"
I ignore him, keeping my gaze on Willa. "Come with me."
She folds her arms, unimpressed. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
She scoffs, like the very idea of me giving orders is ridiculous. "Yeah, that's not an actual reason."
Ben, the fucking bitch, chuckles. "She's got a point, man."
I resist the urge to deck him.
"Come on, Willa," I say, quieter now, almost pleading.
Her expression doesn't change. "No."
That one word slices through me like a blade.
I clench my jaw, inhaling sharply through my nose. "Willa."
"I'm in the middle of something," she says, turning back to Ben.
And just like that, I don't exist again.
Roman, ever the asshole, leans in. "Damn. That was brutal."
I don't respond.
I just stand there, fists clenched, as Ben laughs at whatever she says next. As she keeps talking to him like I'm not even there. Like last week didn't happen.
Like I didn't follow her home.
Like she didn't beg me to come back.
And I can't decide what pisses me off moreâthe fact that she's pretending so easily, or the fact that it fucking hurts.
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HEHEHHEHE GUYS I LOVE THIS CHAPTER
Here comes the hockeyyyyyyy
that it fucking hurts.