Amelia’s POV

Biting the inside of my cheek, I froze but my heart didn't. It was slamming against my chest mercilessly.

The voice belonged to a male and it didn't belong to Michael either as it was deeper and richer than his, I couldn't help but to imagine he was the one behind me.

Brielle Moore, she was going to drag me to the ends of the earth, as she made fun of me.

Blinking, I tilted my head to the side but I couldn't see the person who had spoken behind me.

I was going to blame myself for acting paranoid but my head suddenly went ninety degrees, giving me half a view of the person behind me.

Mustering up courage, I turned to confront the tall figure in the dark hoodie.

The shadows didn’t conceal much.

He had a face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a sports magazine and his presence had just made the cold air feel a little warmer.

The crest on his hoodie caught my attention immediately: King U Hockey.

And then it clicked.

Raymond King was my company.

He was the Captain of King U’s hockey team which comprises the best player in the whole state. He was a legend who was destined for the NHL.

Scouts fought over him, coaches worshipped him, hoping he would pick them as his personal trainer and his highlight reels… they went viral before most people finished their coffee.

And most ironically?

He was Michael’s idol.

He was the captain of the team Michael had always dreamed of being a part of and the player he watched obsessively.

I stared at him, still trying to piece together why he was here of all places, and why he had approached me.

This was the first time I was seeing him in person. I had only seen him on my screen and even when I wanted to watch him play live, the stadium would already be filled even if I got there at the exact kick off time.

“I’ve got some hockey sticks in the trunk if you don’t mind,” he said again, snapping me from my day dream.

When he got my attention, he nodded toward his car which was parked a few feet away.

“It might be more satisfying to shatter the glass than just kicking tires.”

Startled, I blinked, “Excuse me?”

He smiled faintly, his eyes scanning my face as if he could read every unspoken emotion.

“You look like someone who’s been bottling things up for way too long so I thought I should offer you an upgrade.”

I didn't know where the courage came from but I crossed my hand on my chest, locking eyes with him.

“And who are you? My emotional support vandal?”

“Not exactly but the offer stands.” He chuckled.

Rolling my eyes, I scoffed as I wiped the tears at the corners of my eyes. “No, thanks. I’ve already done enough.”

“Suit yourself,” he said but instead of walking away, he set down his duffel bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a stick.

Before I could process what was happening, he walked to Michael's car and with zero hesitation, he slammed the blade of the stick against the passenger window.

CRASH!

Shards exploded everywhere as the glass crumbled in a glittering cascade to the ground.

Terrified, I jumped back with a gasp, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Are you insane?!” I wanted to yell but I gasped instead.

Smirking, Raymond turned to me, looking perfectly unfazed.

“Do you feel better now?”

“You—you just—”

“Yeah,” he said, tossing the stick onto the ground like it was just another play. “It’s therapeutic, you want to take a swing?”

Shaking my head, a low laugh escaped my lips, “That’s... that’s absolutely insane.”

“Insane,” he repeated with a nod. “But effective.”

I bit my bottom lip to hide a smile.

Despite the chaos and despite how absurd it was, a strange calm began to settle over me.

“Do you always go around smashing windows for crying girls in parking garages?” I asked, my arms still crossed.

“Only the interesting ones.” The glint in his eyes made me narrow mine.

“Do lines like that usually work?” I asked again.

Exposing his one sided dimple with a smile, he leaned against the SUV beside Michael’s car, his arms folded and one brow arched like he was genuinely interested in my answer.

“Rate it on the scale of one of five.”

“Not even close to the numbers you mentioned.”

Grinning, he asked, “Are you sure? Because you’re not running off which means I either impressed you or terrified you and either way, I’ll take it.” He was sounding like we had known me for a long time.

“You’re unbelievable.” I couldn't help but to say.

“I get that compliment a lot.”

He was exuding a kind of cocky charm that made it almost impossible to tell whether he was being serious or just screwing with me.

Still, I wasn’t about to be another sob story rescued by a golden boy in a hoodie with a bat.

“I don’t need saving,” I said quietly. “Or flirting.”

Raymond nodded, still watching me. “Good. You’re too interesting for that cliché anyway.”

We stood in silence for a moment.

Shifting my gaze, I looked down at the glass, then up at the shattered window. There was something satisfying about the destruction.

Maybe because Michael had always controlled everything and now something of his was broken just like me.

“You know,” Raymond said after a while, his voice lower now, “if someone did to me what he did to you, I would have burned the whole damn car.”

“I was tempted.” I snorted.

“You’ve got better restraint than most people and I like that,” he said.

I tilted my head, staring dreamily at him, “Are you flirting again?”

Taking a step backwards, he lifted his hands above his head like he was surrendering.

“Hey, I’m just speaking truths but if you want to call it flirting... I won’t argue.” He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes again, but I didn’t stop him from talking.

To be honest, I wanted to leave but at the same time, I couldn't move my feet no matter how much I tried.

It was just our first meeting, yet he was already having an effect on me.

Snap of it, no more jocks. — I yelled in my head.

“I have to leave now,” I muttered, adjusting my jackets.

My chest was light now, all thanks to him but I couldn't stay back and end up catching feelings for another jock.

“If you don't mind, I can drop you off." He offered, grabbing his duffel bag and his hockey stick.

“No, I'm fine," I replied before he could say something else.

Just when I was going to take the first step, I heard footsteps. They were loud, angry and echoing.

A few moments later, a sharp and venomous yell filled the garage.

“Who the fuck did this?!”

It was Michael.