What Are The Odds?: A college hockey romance. (Phil-U Book 1)
What Are The Odds?: Chapter 2

Grace.

I readjusted the strap of my gym bag as I climbed the steps to the photography building. This was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I was so hungover I could still taste the remnants of the weekend’s alcohol in my mouth. Groaning, I pressed a hand to my queasy stomach. Simply thinking about alcohol was enough to make me dry retch. I pushed open the doors, the warmth from the building hitting me like a sauna. Compared to outside, it may as well have been. I was definitely in the right place. Athletes lined the hallway. A person from each sporting department had been summoned for Phil-U’s media photos. My coach had nominated me as the female representative from the swimming team. I scanned the busy room, looking for a familiar face. I recognised some, but none I knew well enough to talk to. While there was a separate area or arena for all sporting teams, we used a communal gym. The Athlete’s Centre was a multi-million-dollar structure, and bigger than any gym I’d been in before. With this many sporting teams, it was needed. I spotted Elijah, a boy from my team, waving me over. Like me, he was wearing his swimming tracksuit. Some people were already dressed in their full team kit. Given our team spent most of the time in bathers, I’d thrown the branded jacket and pants over the top. I made my way to Elijah. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“You got roped in too, huh?” he murmured.

“Unfortunately. Any idea how long this will take?”

“Took about an hour last year.”

I groaned. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I dropped my bag to the ground beside Elijah’s. This hangover was about to go from a seven to a nine if I didn’t eat soon. A high-pitched giggle caused my head to pound. The girl dressed in a cheerleading uniform was talking to the captain of the boy’s ice hockey team. I recognised him easily because his face was plastered everywhere across campus. There was even a billboard of him and the captain of the football team on the freeway. The cheerleader’s hands danced over the ice hockey player as she purposely lowered her shoulder so he could see her extremely impressive cleavage. He couldn’t resist. His eyes fell to the intended target. Walking into the hallway, the photographer clapped her hands, pulling everyone’s attention.

“I know many of you have classes after this, so let’s make it quick. Gear up then head in.”

In this moment, I wished I’d picked a different sport. Having being swimming since I was a kid, I was comfortable in my bathers. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t strange to be dressed in them while others were fully clothed. Though there were plenty of sports that had the same limited modesty as me. The cross-country girl was resorted to what appeared like underwear and a crop. And the female volleyball player wasn’t much luckier. At least my uniform was a one piece. After losing my tracksuit, I hugged my arms around myself as the photographer moved people into position. Rather than lining us up on benches like I was accustomed to, she directed each athlete like we were about to shoot a magazine commercial. She was mixing up the sports, creating a contrast between us all. She propped Elijah on a barstool alongside the male basketball player and female golf captain. And the male soccer player and female baseball player were told to stand back to back beneath a prop lamp pole.

“Ryker. Let’s have you front and centre.”

The football player ambled over. He was tall, with neatly cut brown hair and soft eyes. His uniform hugged his body firmly, the sleeves ending high enough to showcase strong arms.

“And Levi. I’ll get you right beside him.”

The hockey player separated himself from the cheerleader to move into position. He was tall, too. Slightly taller than the football captain. His dark hair was grown longer, the ends flicking out beneath a Phil-U cap, and his sharp jawline was hidden beneath a thin layer of stubble. A hazy memory came back to me, seeing him at Lastlings. Despite the crowded bar, his presence had been hard to miss. I’ll bet he knew that. There was a confident energy to him. Or maybe it was just arrogance.

“You.” The photographer clicked her pointy finger at me before tapping her foot in front of the football and hockey players. “Can I get you here?”

Figures she was familiar with the names of the football and hockey captains and nobody else. I’d been given a head’s up those two teams were treated like celebrities on campus. Already I’d seen first-hand how much power they held. If any coach had a gym space reserved that either team wanted, our practice would get adjusted to something that didn’t get in their way. With a resound sigh I made my way over, standing between the two guys.

“Doesn’t it make more sense for me to be there?” the cheerleader asked, jutting her hip.

The photographer ignored her. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. Now in nothing but bathers, the sauna-like-room didn’t feel as warm anymore.

“Tough gig with the swimsuit,” a deep voice behind me whispered.

I looked over my shoulder to replace the football player crouching close to my ear. I could smell his cologne wafting over me. It was nice. The perfect combination of musky and masculine.

The hockey player snickered. “Is this your poor attempt at flirting, Richardson? If so, I’d rather kill myself than witness it.”

“Don’t make me promises you won’t keep, Holloway,” the football player shot back.

The photographer moved behind her tripod, readjusting her camera now each athlete was in place.

“Levi and Ryker, move in a bit. You three are front and centre.”

Of bloody course.

“And you.”

Her bony finger pointed at me again.

“Grace,” I supplied.

“Grace,” she repeated. “Can you angle your body towards Levi?”

I remained frozen in place. Levi was…

“That’s me,” came the hockey player’s deep voice.

With a heavy sigh I stepped closer to him, causing a snicker from the football player.

“She doesn’t even know you, Holloway, and the idea of standing closer bothers her.”

The rebuttal was quick. “Figures your familiarity with girls sighing is linked to disappointment and not pleasure.”

I didn’t pick up on any mockery or sarcasm in either of their tones. I’d expected they were all buddy-buddy given they were the feature photo on the Phil-U student portal. You literally couldn’t log into your course work without seeing their faces. There was clearly some type of rivalry between these two guys though. And right now, I was literally smack bang in the middle of it. They were mumbling under their breath so nobody else could overhear. If the cheerleader was still adamant about being the filling between this egotistical sandwich, I would happily swap. The photographer snapped a countless number of shots. Smile. Don’t smile. Look disinterested. Look engaged. After what felt like a million flashes, she dismissed us. As hurriedly as I could, I slipped on my pants, jacket and sneakers then got the hell out of there.