I followed Coach Brennan down the narrow administrative hallway. He was walking fast, muttering to himself the entire way. I had to double my pace just to keep up with his short, athletic strides.
"In here," he said, pushing open the door that led into his office.
The room was exactly what you’d expect for a division-one college coach. Framed team photos lined the walls, shelves were overflowing with trophies, and a massive, worn leather couch occupied the corner. The air smelled faintly of coffee and damp hockey gear.
Brennan walked behind his desk and dropped the clipboard. He pointed to one of the chairs. "Sit, Nora. Please."
I sat, placing my color-coded folder on my lap. "I’d like my transcript back, Coach."
"Of course, of course." He handed the paper across the desk, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. "I’m going to be straight with you, Nora. You know who Knox Sheridan is."
"I just met him," I said dryly. "Or rather, his shoulder met my chest. He knocked me down and ruined my iced coffee."
"Sounds like Knox," Brennan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He’s a nightmare off the ice. But on the ice? He’s the best forward we’ve had in a decade. NHL scouts are practically living in our arena. The problem is, his grades are in the toilet. If he doesn’t pass his midterm in five weeks, the academic board is going to suspend him."
"Okayyyyy?" I drawled, unsure of what I was to do with the info dump. "But uhm... what does that have to do with me? The university has plenty of tutors."
"Not like you," Brennan said. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "I’ve gone through four different tutors this semester. Knox either ignores them, pays them to leave, or intimidates them into signing his hours without doing the work. He needs someone who won’t take his garbage. I saw how you stood up to him out there. You didn’t blink."
"I was angry," I said. "And I don’t have time to babysit a playboy who thinks the world revolves around him."
"I’m not asking you to babysit him. I’m asking you to save my season," Brennan said. "If Knox gets suspended, we lose our chance at the Founders Cup. And the athletic department’s funding pitch for next year goes down the drain."
"I’m sorry, Coach. But I have to find a new job. My stipend was just cut, and I have bills to pay."
"I know." A small smirk appeared on Brennan’s face. "My department is the one benefiting from the reallocation. Which means I have about seven hundred and fifty dollars a week sitting in my budget that has your name on it, if you take the job."
I froze as my mind immediately did the math. Three thousand dollars a month... that was double my old stipend. It would easily cover my rent and my mother’s bakery loan, leaving me with enough money to spare.
"Three thousand?" I asked, making sure I hadn’t misheard.
"Three thousand," Brennan confirmed. "But there’s a catch. You have to get him to pass that midterm. If he fails, the contract is void. And you have to document every single session. The board needs proof he’s actually putting in the hours."
I stared at the coach.
Every instinct I had was screaming at me that tutoring Knox Sheridan would be a massive headache. He was arrogant, rude, and clearly had no respect for anyone else’s time or anyone at all.
But then, that three thousand dollars was a lifeline. It was the difference between keeping my apartment and being forced back to my childhood bedroom.
"Strictly business," I said, looking Brennan in the eye. "I’m his tutor, nothing else. If he misses a session, I report it immediately. And if he tries to pay me off, I tell you."
"Deal," Brennan replied, reaching across the desk. We shook hands. "First session is this afternoon at four. He’ll be at the rink. I’ll make sure he knows you’re coming."
The moment I stepped out of the athletic building, I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother.
The call connected after just two rings, and I could hear the familiar, heavy drone of the bakery’s commercial mixers in the background. "Nora, sweetie! I wasn’t expecting you to call so early. Everything okay?"
"Everything is fine, Mom," I said, leaning against a concrete pillar to escape the afternoon wind. "How is the shop?"
"Oh, you know, just the usual morning rush," she replied, though I could hear the forced cheerfulness in her voice. "The danishes were practically flying off the shelves today."
"Mom," I said gently. "Did the bank call again?"
A long sigh came through the speaker, followed by the clink of a metal tray. "They did. The mortgage manager said if we don’t clear the past-due interest by the end of the month, they won’t extend the loan. It’s... it’s a lot of money, Nora. But don’t you worry about it; I’ll figure it out. Just focus on your classes."
"You don’t have to worry either," I said too. "I just landed a new tutoring contract with the athletic department. It pays three thousand a month. I’ll transfer the first week’s pay as soon as the check clears on Friday."
"Three thousand?" My mother gasped. "Nora, are you sure? That’s... oh, thank god. That clears the bank’s penalty fee completely. But are you working too hard? You already have the diner shifts."
"I’m fine, Mom. It’s just one student. I can handle it," I promised, pushing down the memory of Knox Sheridan’s arrogant face. "I’ll call you Friday, okay? Love you."
"Love you too, sweetie. And... thank you."
I hung up, letting out a long breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding, and started the walk back to the dorms. As I did, my step felt lighter, though my mind was already racing over what I’d actually gotten myself into.
When I pushed open our door, Priya was sitting on her bed, surrounded by a mountain of constitutional law textbooks.
"You’re alive," she said, looking up. "Did you find a job, or are we planning a bank heist? Because I’ve already mapped out the security routes."
"No heist needed," I said, dropping my folder on my desk. "I got a new tutoring gig. Seven hundred and fifty a week."
Priya’s jaw dropped. "Seven fifty? Who are you tutoring, a senator’s son?"
"Close. Knox Sheridan."
Priya stared at me for three seconds, then threw her law book onto the mattress. "Knox Sheridan? As in the hockey team’s star playboy? The guy who treats the campus like his personal dating pool and is one party away from a suspension? Nora, he’s a walking red flag. Scratch that... a walking red banner."
"I don’t care about his reputation, Priya," I said, pulling up the student portal on my laptop. "I care about the check. Coach Brennan gave me access to his academic file."
Priya slid off her bed and leaned over my shoulder as the screen loaded.
It was a sea of red.
"Look at that," Priya whistled. "A twelve percent on his last macroeconomics quiz. He didn’t even try."
"Coach Brennan said he’s already gone through four other tutors this semester," I said, studying the quiz dates on the screen. "They all quit."
"And you think you’re going to be different?"
"They quit because they let him walk over them. He thinks his varsity jacket makes him immune to failure. I’m going to treat him like a business transaction. I show up, I give the lesson, he does the work, and I get paid."
Priya shook her head. "Just be careful. He’s charming when he wants to be, and he’s used to getting exactly what he wants. Don’t let him charm you out of your rules."
"He knocked my coffee onto my rent sheet, Priya. There is zero chance of him charming me."
At three-fifty, I walked into the Briar University ice arena.
The air was freezing, compared to the warm afternoon outside. Though the stands were empty, the sound of skates carving into the ice and pucks slamming against the boards echoed through the rafters.
I made my way down the steps toward the player bench.
Down on the ice, the team was wrapping up a scrimmage. Knox was impossible to miss. He skated with aggressive speed, taking a pass at the blue line and snapping the puck into the top corner of the net before the goalie could even react.
A loud whistle blew.
"Alright, wrap it up!" the assistant coach called out. "Off the ice!"
The players started skating toward the bench, laughing and shouting. I watched Knox pull his helmet off. His dark hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, and he was grinning at something one of his teammates said as they reached the gate.
Knox paused at the gate and looked up. The moment his eyes landed on me, his brow furrowed and his expression soured instantly.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, loud enough for it to echo in the empty rink.