Chapter 4 The Near Miss

The Monday morning subway ride felt twice as long as usual. My mind was stuck on the message Jaxon had sent right before the weekend game.

User7742: Wish me luck, V. If I don't crush them tonight, my dad is going to make my life a living hell.

I hadn’t replied. A ghost didn't give pep talks. But watching him look up at his father’s empty expression in that VIP box had made his text echo in my head all weekend.

When I finally walked into the St. Jude’s library during our free period, the heater was on full blast, making the room feel too warm. The library was as beautiful as the rest of the school, with tall wooden bookshelves and green reading lamps that lit up the large wooden tables.

Jax was already there. He sat at a corner table, his long legs stretched out under the wooden tables, a modern laptop open in front of him. He had switched his varsity jacket for a cream-colored cashmere sweater that screamed old money, but his dark hair was still a messy, unbothered mop.

"Look who decided to grace me with her presence," he muttered as I dropped my heavy backpack onto the chair across from him. "You're five minutes late, Vance."

"The subway was delayed," I said, pulling out my notebook and a cheap plastic pen. "Some of us don't have personal drivers, Montgomery."

"Could've fooled me," he said, leaning back and eyeing my oversized thrift coat. "You look like you own half of Brooklyn in that thing."

"It's vintage," I shot back, adjusting the collar. "Let's just get this outline done. I don't want to spend my entire free period looking at your face."

"Harsh," he smirked, though there was no real heat behind it. He slid his laptop toward the center of the table. "Look, I actually started a document for the historical context section we need to connect to the literature. I wrote down some notes."

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "You? Actually doing work without a gun to your head? I'm shocked."

"Yeah, yeah. Just read it before you start judging."

I leaned forward, pulling his laptop closer to my side of the table. The screen showed a standard word processing document, but as I scrolled up to check his formatting, my eyes caught a minimized window glowing at the bottom toolbar of his laptop.

It was a browser extension icon. A tiny, distinctive red ghost silhouette.

My blood instantly turned to ice. My chest tightened so hard I forgot how to draw air into my lungs. He didn't just use GhostGrad on his phone. He had the desktop web-client extension installed on his laptop.

"What's wrong?" Jax asked, his voice cutting through the ringing in my ears. He leaned forward, his stormy gray eyes tracking my sudden stillness. "Is my writing that bad?"

"No," I choked out, forcing my hands to remain steady on his keyboard. "It's... fine. Just checking the structure."

Before I could minimize his document or slide the laptop back, Jax reached out. "Wait, let me show you the source I found for the secondary argument. I saved the link."

His large hand brushed against mine as he reached for the trackpad. The sudden warmth of his skin sent a jolt up my arm. He tapped the trackpad to switch tabs, but his finger slipped on the glass surface.

Instead of opening the browser tab, his cursor clicked directly on the tiny red ghost icon.

The GhostGrad web interface snapped open, filling the entire fifteen-inch screen.

Right there, in bold, high-contrast letters, was his private chat history. The top conversation was active, the text glowing brightly under the username V.

My own words stared back at me: We have a deal, User7742. No names. No faces. I’m a ghost. Don't forget it.

"Ah, shit," Jax muttered, his face flushing a rare shade of crimson as he quickly scrambled to hit the escape key, slamming the window shut. He cleared his throat roughly, pulling the laptop back toward himself. "Don't... don't look at that."

I sat frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My phone was resting right inside the open pocket of my thrift coat, sitting on the top layer of my fabric. If it buzzed right now, if a single notification illuminated the screen on the table, the game was over.

"What was that?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound casual, playing the role of the clueless classmate. "Some kind of video game?"

Jax let out a tense breath, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked genuinely embarrassed, a look that didn't fit his untouchable hockey captain persona at all.

"No," he said quietly, staring down at his closed laptop screen. "It's... a private application. Just some online tutoring stuff. It’s nothing."

"An online tutor?" I pressed, tilting my head, masking my panic with a layer of dry curiosity. "The great Jaxon Montgomery needs a secret digital savior?"

Jax looked up, his gray eyes serious. The cocky attitude was gone, replaced by the vulnerable boy I had seen at the ice rink.

"If anyone finds out about that app, Vance, I'm done," he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "The athletic board will launch a full investigation into my academic standing. My dad will pull me out of St. Jude's before sunset. So yeah. It’s a secret. Keep your mouth shut about it."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, looking at the raw fear in his eyes. He wasn't just protecting his hockey career,  he was terrified of his father.

"I don't care about your private life, Montgomery," I said softly, and for the first time, it wasn't a lie. "Your secret is safe with me. Let's just finish the project."

Jax stared at me for a long time, searching my face for any sign of deceit. Finally, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. "Thanks, Vance."

My phone stayed silent in my pocket, saving me just in time. But when we went back to work, the air between us felt heavy with a new and dangerous tension. I was getting too close, and the ice beneath us was starting to crack.