The Goalie's Tutor

Aria's POV

The snow outside had gotten heavier, but in a soft, pretty way, none of yesterday's slush and chaos.

I stood by my bedroom window, holding the curtain open just a crack, watching the flakes drift down in lazy spirals.

The world looked quieter when it snowed. Like everything was on mute, and I kind of wished my nerves were too.

Today was my first official tutoring session with Jason Monroe.

I closed the curtain with a sigh and grabbed my tote bag.

I'd packed it earlier with my old Algebra textbooks, a few sharpened pencils, a calculator, highlighters, sticky notes... maybe a little overkill, but better to be over-prepared than caught slacking.

Especially with him. I tucked the folder with the placement tests and zipped it up before slinging it over my shoulder.

I reached for my purse, still sitting on my desk, and paused at the door.

"I wish Lily were here with me," I murmured.

I didn't even realise I'd said it out loud. Everything just felt... off without her by my side. Lily was my buffer, my confidence boost.

She made walking into unknown situations feel like jokes instead of heart attacks.

Now I was going to a stranger's house alone to tutor a guy who my subconscious thought looked like he belonged to a Calvin Klein billboard.

Ugh. Not that I'd ever admit but Lily was right. Hockey players were hot. But Jason was not just hot. He was hot hot. Like unfair levels of hot. Like, why do you even have a shirt on, sir? It's kind of hot.

Only... the problem was, when he opened his mouth, all that heat turned into cold rudeness.

Whiplash much?

I locked my front door and trudged toward the car, tossing my things into the backseat before sliding into the driver's seat.

My breath fogged up the windshield for a second, and I sat there, gripping the wheel and trying to calm the jittery energy buzzing through me.

I was five feet tall on a good day. Jason probably bench-pressed people my size for fun. How the hell was I supposed to survive this arrangement?

"Just be professional," I whispered to myself. "Help him pass. Keep it cool."

I glanced at the folder again and bit my lip. Please, I prayed silently, let him have actually done those placement tests. Just so this doesn't turn into a complete mess.

As I turned into the familiar bend toward his street, my stomach twisted itself into knots. My fingers clenched a little tighter around the steering wheel.

This was fine.

Totally fine.

I pulled into the driveway, parking behind a sleek black car that screamed money and speed. Probably his. Of course.

This time, a maid answered the door instead of his mom. She was kind and polite, introducing herself quickly before ushering me inside and up the staircase. I muttered a soft thank you and followed her steps, feeling smaller with every one I took.

Jason's door was already open when she stopped in front of it and smiled at me before leaving.

I stepped inside.

Typical boy's room. Hockey gear everywhere. Sticks propped against the wall, jerseys draped over a chair, and posters plastered everywhere.

Not just random players, though. Most of them were him. On the ice. With teammates. Mid-celebration after a goal.

The colour scheme was grey and black. I sidestepped a hoodie on the floor and a stray Gatorade bottle before moving further in...

A low growl stopped me in my tracks. I froze, turning toward the sound just as Jason looked up from where he sat on a couch near the far window.

Another guy was slouched beside him. A tall, broad-shouldered guy with buzzed dark hair and a wolfish smile.

Jason's eyes locked onto mine. "Who let you in my room?" he asked.

I flinched, instinctively taking a step back.

The other guy snorted. "Dude. Go easy. She's a cute little thing." He grinned at me.

The other guy pushed himself off the couch and walked over, extending a hand.

"Name's Aiden."

"Aria," I said, trying to make my voice sound normal.

His eyes flicked down. Then he tilted his head, almost thoughtfully, before saying...

"You might want to change your pants. They're... stained."

My heart skipped a beat. "What?"

I turned slightly, reaching behind me. My fingers touched the fabric. It was wet and sticky. Blood. Oh my god. No. No. No. No.

I stepped back, my face burning so hot. My period. Right now? I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

I couldn't move, nor could I breathe. My fingertips were pressed lightly against the stain.