Chapter 3 Problem child

Ivy

The volunteer office door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against the cool hallway wall for a moment, eyes closed. The lie I’d just told still tasted bitter on my tongue.

Nothing was going well.

My camera bag felt heavier than usual as I walked across campus toward the dorms. The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows over the brick paths, and groups of students laughed and called to each other, already forming the easy friendships that seemed to come so naturally to everyone else. I kept my head down, earbuds in but no music playing. I just needed the illusion of being unreachable.

My phone buzzed with a text from Mom.

Mom: How was your first day, baby? Did you take lots of pictures?

I stared at the screen until the words blurred. She sounded so hopeful, even through text. She had no idea I was already drowning, and it had only been one day. I typed back quickly.

Me: It was great! The team is intense but talented. Took almost 600 shots. Miss you.

I hit send before I could overthink it. Some truths were better kept to myself. She was still recovering, and the last thing she needed was to worry about me.

^^^

The dorm building loomed ahead — a tall, modern structure that still smelled like fresh paint and new beginnings. My roommate, a bubbly art major named Lena, wasn’t back yet. The room was blessedly quiet when I stepped inside. I dropped my bag on the desk, collapsed onto my bed, and finally let the exhaustion hit me.

But sleep wouldn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Asher’s smirk. Heard the laughter. Felt the phantom weight of those ruined sneakers landing at my feet.

I sat up and pulled my laptop out instead. Might as well start sorting through the photos from practice. Six Most of the shots were usable — sharp action sequences of sticks clashing, players cutting across the ice, and sweat flying. The team looked good. Fast. Aggressive. Exactly what Northbridge needed for their upcoming season.

Then I reached Asher’s photos.

Or rather, the lack of them.

He had turned every single attempt I made into a blur or an empty frame. One shot showed the back of his helmet as he deliberately skated away. Another captured only his elbow as he “accidentally” blocked the lens. It was masterful in its pettiness. He hadn’t just avoided me, he had made sure I knew he was doing it on purpose.

I zoomed in on one of the few frames where his face was partially visible. The arena lights caught the sharp line of his jaw, the way a bead of sweat traced slowly down the side of his neck before slipping beneath the collar of his jersey. His shoulders looked broader than I remembered, muscles shifting under the practice gear as he turned. There was a raw intensity in his eyes that made the still image feel dangerously alive.

My stomach did a slow, unwelcome flip.

No. I immediately looked away from the screen. I had spent all of high school training myself not to see him like this. Anyone else, but never him. Not after everything.

I forced my attention back to the technical side — composition, lighting, focus. But my gaze kept drifting. The corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it. I was smiling at him. Shame burned hot in my chest.

The photo seemed to blur at the edges. For one treacherous second, Asher’s smirk softened. He lifted his hand toward the camera, almost playful, and—

I slammed the laptop shut so hard the desk rattled.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I pressed my palms to my burning cheeks, breathing fast. This was ridiculous. Traitorous. A stress-induced hallucination, nothing more.

A loud bang on the door made me jump. Heart still racing, I crossed the room and pulled it open.

A girl with purple-streaked hair and a bright, energetic smile burst in, arms full of shopping bags. “Finally! I was hoping you’d be here. I’m Lena, your roommate.”

“ I saw your name on the door tag earlier but you were already gone when I got back from errands.”

She dumped the bags on her bed and turned to me, still grinning. “I brought reinforcements. Snacks, some decent coffee pods because the ones they stock in the dorm kitchen are criminal, and a couple of those overpriced campus hoodies in case you forgot to pack for the weather. Consider it a welcome gift.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the whirlwind of color and cheer. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Lena waved a hand. “Nonsense. I’ve been here two years already—sophomore now—so I know how rough the first few days can be, especially if you’re on scholarship and trying to juggle everything. How was your day? You look like you survived a war zone.”

I managed a small laugh and sat on the edge of my bed while she unpacked. “It was… eventful. Let’s just say not everyone was thrilled to see me.”

She raised an eyebrow, tossing me a bag of chips. “Yeah, but that's nothing to worry about. It's still the first day of school. My day was mostly orientation wrap-up and trying not to get lost again even though I’ve been here forever. Oh—and lectures don’t officially start until next week, so tomorrow I’m giving you the grand tour. Best spots to eat, quiet places to study, the secret vending machine that actually works… the full experience.”

For the first time all day, the knot in my chest loosened a little. Lena’s liveliness was infectious, filling the room with normalcy I desperately needed. We talked for a while, easy things about classes, campus life, her art major chaos until the weight of the day started to feel slightly more bearable.

Later that night, after she left for a floor meeting, I went back to my laptop. I forced myself to edit the usable shots first, then opened the folder of Asher’s sabotage attempts again.

My fingers hovered over the delete key for a while.

Instead, I saved the folder as “Problem Child” and closed it.

I wasn’t going to let him win that easily. If he wanted to play games, fine. I’d document every single one of them. And when the time came to submit the season’s media package, his lack of cooperation would speak for itself.

The thought gave me a small, sharp sense of satisfaction as I lay in bed and retired for the day.