Chapter 1 In His Arms
The cafeteria at Fairview University was never quiet, but today it felt louder than usual.
Amelia Hartley sat at a corner table with her phone clutched in both hands, her thumb hovering it. Her untouched coffee was still on the table.
Across from her, Mira, her best friend, chewed lazily, scrolling through her phone.
“Amelia,” Mira said, mouthful of fries, “you’ve refreshed that page so many times I’m starting to feel judged.”
“The list drops today,” Amelia muttered.
“So does your blood pressure.”
Her phone vibrated and Amelia froze.
Then she stood up so fast her chair nearly fell.
“It’s out.”
That got Mira’s attention, and she stood up abruptly too. “The sports journalism list?”
“Yes.”
“Like, out out?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Stand up. You need to go now.”
Amelia shoved her phone into her pocket, grabbed her cup of coffee without thinking.
“Wait, Amelia your bag!” Mira called.
“I’ll come back!”
She hesitated and grabbed her bag. “I have a class in the next ten minutes.”
Mira nodded with a smile.
Amelia took off, heart beating fast. She could already picture the notice board.
The list would be filled with names of her coursemates and the school's athletes. This was the opportunity she’d worked toward since freshman year. The one thing Connor had laughed at when….
Amelia heard an uproar and turned instinctively.
The sound wasn’t angry. It was loud and amused.
A cluster of students had formed near the cafeteria entrance, phones already out.
“Yo, Nate!”
“Captain!”
“Over here!”
Her foot caught on the edge of a backpack strap stretched across the floor.
“Oh!” she stumbled.
Her coffee sloshed violently as her arm jerked and the lid popped loose, which caused the hot liquid to split as she collided with someone.
She gasped at the impact.
Strong hands caught her immediately, one bracing her lower back, the other gripping her side to stop her from going down completely.
But the coffee spilled everywhere.
Amelia fingers clenched the stranger's shoulder, then she looked up.
Nathan Miller was staring down at her. He had a smile on his lip, he seemed amused by what just happened.
“Well..” he began, tightening his hold around her “I must have swept you off your feet.”
Her mouth opened and closed.
"Girl, you are currently in the arms of Nathan Miller, the Pro hockey captain!." Her mind yelled
“It’s okay,” he smirked “I have that effect on ladies.”
Around them, someone snorted. Another phone camera clicked.
Amelia blinked, then she stiffened. “Why,” she gulped, “are you still holding me?”
Nathan frowned, “I never knew letting you fall was part of the script.”
“What script?” she glared.
“The one where I let a girl faceplant in front of half the cafeteria.”
“Let go of me.”
He didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her.
“Do you always glare like that? or is this just for me?”
“Take your hands off me!”
“Relax,” he said. “I caught you.”
“That wasn’t an invitation to hover.”
Nathan’s grin. “Feisty,” he murmured
Then, before she could react his hand brushed her face.
“What are you…”
He gently pulled her glasses off her face.
“Give those back!” she yelled
“I just want to look at you,” he said, eyes dropping to hers. “Properly.”
Her world went slightly blurry without her lenses, but his face was still clear.
“Are you serious right now?” she demanded. “Put them back.”
“Wow,” he said quietly. “You’ve got eyes that could start fights.”
“Do you often steal people’s glasses?”
“Only when they crash into me dramatically.”
She shoved against his chest. “I did not crash into you on purpose.”
“Sure felt intentional.”
“That’s because you’re holding me hostage!”
“Hostage?” He laughed softly. “That’s a strong word.”
“Give them back.”
His eyes flicked from her face to the coffee spreading across the front of his white hockey jersey. His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't utter a word.
“Oh,” Amelia breathed. “Oh no.”
Nathan stared at it, jaw tightening a bit. “You spilled coffee on me.”
“You grabbed me!”
“This jersey costs more than your laptop.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
A low whistle came from the crowd.
Nathan slowly released her and handed back her glasses. “You’re paying for this,” he said.
She shoved them onto her face. “I didn’t force you to stand there like a decorative statue.”
“You ran.”
“No, I walked.”
“You ran into me.”
“You’re very large.”
His mouth twitched. “Flattery will not save you.”
She took a step back. “I have somewhere to be.”
“So do I,” he said. “And now I smell like beans and caffeine.”
“That’s tragic.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’re feisty.”
She met his gaze. “And you’re full of yourself.”
“I like that too.”
She turned on her heel and walked away leaving him and his stained jersey.
“Hey,” he called after her.
She kept walking.
“Did you at least slip your number into my pocket?”
She didn’t turn back. The cafeteria noise swallowed his laugh as she pushed through the doors, pulse racing.
By the time Amelia reached the faculty building, her anger had simmered into something tight and buzzing under her skin.
“He’s unbelievable,” she muttered, yanking the door open. “And immature, that's why I don't like him.”
She noticed immediately, the way heads turned, the way whispers cut short.
“What?” she snapped at no one.
She marched down the hallway, until she caught her reflection in the glass case lining the wall.
Coffee stains splashed across her blouse. “Oh my!”
She closed her eyes. “Great.”
A girl passing by whispered, “That’s her?”
Amelia straightened, ignoring them. She reached the notice board.
Students crowded around it, laughing, pointing, and comparing names.
“I got the swimmer!”
“They gave me the point guard!”
“No way, you’re lucky you got Travis.”
Someone brushed past her. “Sorry.”
“Amelia, you got the best athlete.” someone whispered behind her.
Her stomach dropped. “What?” she asked faintly.
She pushed forward, heart pounding, fingers curling into fists as she reached the front. Her name stared back at her in bold black print.
She lifted her glasses, cleaned her eyes and read the list again. She cleaned her glasses and read the list, it was still the same thing.
“No,” she whispered.
A girl beside her snorted. “Girrlll, it’s not your eyes.”
Amelia swallowed hard. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake,” someone said cheerfully. “You’re lucky.”
Her chest tightened. She read it again slowly.
“Oh,” she muttered. Her voice came out thin. “Oh, not the devil.”
