Tutoring my hockey ex's rival twin

I found out on a Wednesday night from a group chat I was never supposed to be in.

Becca added me by accident. I know that because the second my name appeared in the member list, three people left immediately and someone deleted seventeen messages before I could blink.

But they weren't fast enough.

I had already seen it.

bro she actually thinks he likes her

three weeks of coffee dates lmaooo he's dedicated

dedication or desperation

both. she bought him lunch TWICE

TWICE?? bro she's down bad

And then Ryan. Ryan's name. Ryan's stupid contact photo - the one where he's laughing on the ice with his stick raised like he already owns everything.

relax boys. already closed. easiest $40 of my life lol

the nerdy girl really thought it was real

classic beckett

she's gonna be so pressed when she finds out

I read it once.

Read it again.

Put my phone face down on my desk.

Picked it back up.

Easiest $40 of my life.

I was a forty dollar bet.

Not a girl. Not a person. Not even a name - just the nerdy girl typed out in lowercase in a group chat full of skull emojis while his whole team laughed.

Three weeks.

Three weeks of him showing up to my study sessions with oat milk coffee, two sugars, exactly how I'd mentioned once - once - in passing. Three weeks of walking me back to my dorm even when it was raining. Three weeks of good morning texts and his hand finding mine in the dining hall and him looking at me like - God, the way he looked at me. Like I was someone worth looking at.

I actually thought he meant it.

I, Lena Vasquez, 3.9 GPA, never stupid a day in my life, sat in this dorm room for three weeks and let Ryan Beckett make me feel chosen.

And he was laughing the whole time.

I stood up so fast my chair flew back and hit the wall.

"Lena-"

"Don't." I grabbed my jacket without looking at Priya. "Don't say anything."

"But you look like you're about to-"

"Priya. I swear to God."

She went quiet.

I walked out.

---

I don't remember deciding to go to the arena.

My legs just took me there. Which made sense in the most humiliating way possible because that's where he practiced, that's where I'd spent three Wednesday nights in the bleachers learning what icing meant because Ryan had been so genuinely excited explaining it and I wanted to care about things that mattered to him.

God.

I was so stupid.

I pressed my back against the wall outside Calloway Arena and stared up at the sky and told myself very firmly - do not cry. Do not cry outside this man's arena like some pathetic-

"You look lost."

I spun around.

He came around the side of the building with a duffel over his shoulder and skates hanging from two fingers. Still in practice gear. Hair damp at the ends. He almost walked straight past me and then stopped and actually looked.

Same face as Ryan. Same jaw, same dark hair. But where Ryan always looked like he was aware of every single eye on him - always performing, always half smiling for someone - this one looked like he didn't give a single damn if the whole world was watching or not.

Cole Beckett.

Ryan mentioned him exactly once in three weeks. We don't really talk. It's complicated. Then moved on. I didn't ask.

He was looking at me the way you look at something blocking your path. Not mean. Just - assessing.

"Arena's closed," he said.

"I know."

"So what are you doing here."

"Standing," I said. "Is that illegal?"

He looked at me for a second. "You're Ryan's girl."

The words landed like a slap across the face.

Ryan's girl.

Like I was something he owned. Something he could file under a category and hand back when he was done.

"Don't." The word came out sharp and ugly. "Don't call me that."

He raised one eyebrow. Didn't apologize. Didn't look away. "Okay."

"I'm not his anything." My voice cracked on the last word and I hated it immediately. "I'm nobody's anything."

"Alright."

"Stop saying okay and alright like you're managing me."

"I'm not managing you. I don't know you."

"Then stop talking to me."

"You're outside my arena."

"It's a school building-"

"I'm here at five thirty every morning and I'm the last one to leave every night." He tilted his head slightly. "It's mine. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing." I turned away from him. "Forget it. Go home."

"What did he do."

I stiffened.

"Ryan." His voice was flat. "What did he do."

"Why do you automatically assume-"

"Because you're outside his arena at midnight looking like you want to burn it down." A pause. "What did he do."

I spun back around. "Why do you care? You don't even talk to him. You just said you don't know me. So why do you care what he did?"

He looked at me. Said nothing.

"Exactly," I said. "You don't. So drop it."

"Okay."

"Stop saying okay!"

"Then stop asking me questions you don't want the answer to."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Completely unbothered. Just standing there in the cold with his duffel and his skates looking at me like I was a mildly interesting problem he hadn't decided whether to solve yet.

It was infuriating. It was the most infuriating thing I had ever experienced and I had no idea why it made my eyes burn even hotter.

"He made a bet," I said. The words ripped out of me like something physical. "Him and his whole team. In a group chat I got added to by accident tonight." I pulled out my phone and shoved the screen toward him because I needed someone else to see it. I needed someone else to confirm that it was as bad as it felt in my chest. "Read it."

Cole looked at the screen.

His jaw moved.

That was it. His jaw moved once and then his face went completely still in a way that felt worse than if he'd reacted.

He handed my phone back without a word.

"Forty dollars," I said. My voice was shaking now. I couldn't stop it. "I was a forty dollar bet. Three weeks of him showing up with my coffee and texting me good morning and holding my hand and I was a forty dollar bet and he called me-" I stopped. Pressed my hand hard over my mouth. Breathed through my nose until the wave passed. "He called me easy. To his whole team. Easy."

Cole said nothing.

"Three weeks," I said again. Quieter now. "I actually - I liked him. I know how that sounds. I know it sounds stupid and embarrassing and I don't care, I'm saying it anyway - I actually liked him and I thought he-" My throat closed. "It doesn't matter what I thought."

"Say it," Cole said.

I looked at him.

"Finish the sentence," he said.

"Why?"

"Because you've been about to say it three times and stopping yourself." His voice was even. No pity in it. No softness either. Just direct. "Finish it."

I swallowed.

"I thought he saw me," I said. "That's it. That's the whole embarrassing truth. I thought for once someone actually saw me and wanted me anyway and the whole time he was-" I laughed and it came out like something breaking. "God, his team knew my coffee order. Did you know that? He must have told them. They knew I bought him lunch twice. They were watching the whole time. They were keeping score and I was just-"

Standing there.

Smiling.

Buying him lunch.

Thinking I was chosen.

The first tear came down before I could stop it. I swiped it away so fast it was almost violent. "Don't," I said, more to myself than him. "Don't you dare."

Cole was quiet for a moment.

Then - "He's done this before."

I looked up.

His expression hadn't changed but his eyes were different. Something behind them that looked like anger sitting very still and very cold.

"What?" I said.

"Ryan." His voice was flat. "He's done this before. Not just you. This is what he does."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

"How many times," I said.

"Lena-"

"How many times, Cole."

He looked at me. Said nothing. Which was an answer. Which was the worst possible answer.

I turned around and walked two steps away from him and stood there staring at the dark parking lot with my arms crossed tight over my chest because if I didn't hold myself together physically I was going to fall apart completely and I refused - I absolutely refused to do that in front of a stranger.

"He's good at it," Cole said behind me. Quiet. "He's been doing it long enough that he's good at it. That's not a reflection of you. That's just what he is."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. It's just the truth."

I turned back around. My eyes were burning. My hands were shaking. I was cold and humiliated and furious in a way I didn't have words for.

"I want to destroy him," I said.

Cole blinked. First real reaction I'd gotten out of him.

"I don't want to cry about it," I said. "I don't want to post something on Instagram or text him something emotional or any of that. I want to actually - I want him to feel it. The way I feel it right now. I want him to feel this." I pressed a fist to my sternum. "Right here. I want him to lose something."

Cole looked at me for a long moment.

Then he picked up his duffel.

"Go home," he said. "Get some sleep."

"That's it? That's all you've got?"

"Go home, Lena."

"You just told me your brother makes a habit of doing this to girls and your advice is go home and get some sleep?"

"My advice is don't make any decisions tonight." His voice didn't change. Still flat. Still even. Like none of this was touching him. "You're angry and you're hurt and you'll blow it if you move now. Go home."

He started walking.

I watched him go. This infuriating, impossible, completely unreadable man who had handed me back my phone and told me things I didn't want to know and then had the nerve to say go home like any of that was helpful.

"Hey." My voice came out loud in the dark.

He stopped. Didn't turn around.

"Does he know?" I said. "Does Ryan know that you know what kind of person he is?"

A long pause.

Cole turned around slowly.

And the look on his face stopped me completely. Not angry. Not cold. Something else. Something that looked like a door that had been shut for a very long time.

"Ryan knows exactly what kind of person he is," Cole said. "He just doesn't care."

He turned back around and walked away.

I stood there alone in the freezing dark and my phone buzzed in my pocket and I already knew before I pulled it out.

Ryan.

hey you. haven't heard from you tonight. you okay?

The little smiley face.

The same thumbs that typed easiest $40 of my life six hours ago were now sending me smiley faces at midnight and waiting for me to fall for it again.

My chest was heaving.

My hands were shaking.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, behind all the hurt and the humiliation and the burning in my eyes, something else was forming. Something cold and clear and sharp.

I looked at Ryan's message one more time.

Then I looked up at the arena.

Cole had said Ryan knew exactly what kind of person he was and didn't care.

Fine.

Neither did I anymore.

I put my phone in my pocket without replyi

ng and started walking.

I didn't know what I was going to do yet.

But by the time I figured it out?

Ryan Beckett was going to wish he'd picked someone else.