Between The Lines

Emmy

The first thing Emilia Moreno learned about football players was that they never whispered.

Which was unfortunate, considering she was trying to finish a biochemistry practice exam in the library while two linebackers argued three tables away about protein powder and whether blue Gatorade counted as hydration.

It was seven-thirteen in the morning.

No sane person should’ve been yelling before sunrise.

Emmy adjusted her glasses and underlined another sentence in her notes, trying very hard not to commit a felony with a mechanical pencil.

“Emmy?”

She looked up.

Principal Bennett stood at the edge of her table wearing the expression adults reserved for either funerals or budget meetings. Neither outcome was promising.

Behind him stood Noah Callahan.

Of course.

Captain of the football team. Human golden retriever. Walking source of noise pollution.

He leaned against the bookshelf with an easy grin, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder like he belonged in a recruitment poster instead of a library.

And beside him

Luka Petrov.

Captain of the hockey team.

Tall. Silent. Intimidating.

The kind of person who looked permanently unimpressed by existence.

Emmy slowly lowered her highlighter.

“No.”

Principal Bennett blinked. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“You brought athletes to my study group,” she said flatly. “I already know this is going to end badly.”

Noah looked offended. “Wow. You wound me, Moreno.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Emotionally? Maybe not.”

Luka snorted quietly.

That surprised her enough that she looked at him properly for the first time.

Dark hair. Sharp jawline. Storm-cloud eyes.

Annoyingly pretty.

Emmy hated that immediately.

Principal Bennett cleared his throat. “Noah and Luka need tutoring hours to remain eligible for their scholarship programs.”

“Don't they both have tutors already.”

“Yes,” Bennett said carefully, “but according to their teachers, your study group produces the highest GPA improvements in the school.”

“That’s because my members actually care.”

Noah pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “I care.”

“You failed your last chemistry exam, then laughed.”

“A temporary misunderstanding between me and molecular bonding.”

Emmy pinched the bridge of her nose.

She had created the study group sophomore year because nobody at Harrison Prep took academics seriously unless it came attached to a trophy. She’d wanted one place where grades mattered as much as football rankings. Also, doesn't hurt how good it looks on her college resumes.

Now athletic rankings were standing in front of her ruining everything.

“No,” she repeated.

Principal Bennett smiled sympathetically.

Which meant she was losing this argument.

“They’ll attend three days a week,” he said. “Mandatory.”

“Mandatory for them,” Emmy corrected. “Not for me.”

“You’re the only student qualified to help.”

Traitor.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “This feels illegal.”

“Think of it as leadership experience for your college applications.”

That was low.

Very low.

Harvard-low.

Emmy glanced between Noah’s hopeful expression and Luka’s complete lack of one.

Noah looked like he thought this might actually be fun.

Luka looked like he’d rather skate into traffic.

Wonderful.

“When do they start?” she asked flatly.

“Today,” Principal Bennett said immediately, clearly afraid she might regain common sense.

Noah grinned. “See? We’re bonding already.”

“We are absolutely not bonding.”

“You remembered my chemistry grade. That feels meaningful.”

“That’s because it physically hurt me to read it.”

Luka coughed suddenly, covering what looked suspiciously like a laugh.

Emmy stared at him.

“You think this is funny?”

His expression returned to neutral almost instantly. “A little.”

Fantastic.

Two hours later, Emmy regretted every decision she had ever made.

Her study group occupied an unused science classroom on the third floor, tucked far enough from the gym that athletes usually avoided it entirely. She liked it that way.

The room smelled like dry erase markers and coffee.

Every table was covered in color-coded folders.

The whiteboard listed SAT dates, scholarship deadlines, and volunteer opportunities in Emmy’s painfully neat handwriting.

This was her space.

And Noah Callahan was currently spinning in one of the lab stools.

“You’re going to fall,” Emmy warned without looking up from attendance sheets.

“I’m an athlete. Balance is literally my thing.”

The stool tipped sideways immediately.

Noah caught himself against the table with a loud bang.

Across the room, Harper laughed so hard she snorted into her iced coffee.

“I’m adding ‘gravity’ to our list of academic concerns,” Emmy muttered.

Noah pointed at her. “You smiled.”

“I did not.”

“You definitely did.”

She ignored him.

Mostly because he was right.

The room slowly filled with students.

Harper from debate club.

Eli from robotics.

Mina from orchestra.

All of them stared openly when Luka entered behind Noah carrying a hockey duffel bag over one shoulder.

Whispers started immediately.

Emmy clapped once.

“Okay. Ground rules.”

The room quieted.

“No phones. No cheating. No distracting other members.” She looked directly at Noah. “That one is specifically for you.”

“I’m being profiled.”

“You’re being accurate.”

A few people laughed.

Noah grinned like she’d complimented him.

Luka took the empty seat beside the window without speaking.

Typical.

Emmy handed out practice packets. “Diagnostic exams first. I need to know where everyone is academically.”

Noah flipped through the chemistry section and looked personally betrayed.

“There are numbers.”

“It’s chemistry.”

“There are aggressive amounts of numbers.”

“Tragic.”

Across the room, Luka was already working silently.

Fast.

Emmy frowned slightly.

Interesting.

Most athletes forced into tutoring either acted bored or helpless. Luka looked… focused.

She walked past his desk slowly, pretending to check attendance.

His packet was nearly half finished.

And correct.

Huh.

Luka noticed her looking.

“What?”

“You understand stoichiometry?”

“Obviously.”

That answer irritated her more than it should have.

“No need to sound arrogant about it.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “You asked.”

Before she could respond, Noah raised his hand dramatically from across the room.

“Emmy, I have a question.”

“It’s been four minutes.”

“And already I’m struggling.”

“What is it?”

He pointed helplessly at his paper. “What the hell is a mole?”

The entire room burst into laughter.

Even Emmy.

A real laugh this time.

Noah looked ridiculously pleased about it.

And across the classroom, Luka watched her with an unreadable expression that made something uncomfortable twist low in her stomach.

That was new.

Emmy hated new.