Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tristan’s POV

I’d barely stepped out of the cafeteria before her face started replaying in my head.

That calm, steady expression. The way she’d stared me down without a single flicker of fear, even after I’d knocked her tray to the floor and Bella had slapped her in front of the entire school. No tears. No trembling. Just raw, stubborn defiance.

It stuck with me. Longer than it should have. Longer than anyone ever had.

By the time we reached the locker room beside the hockey rink, the usual pre-game chaos had already swallowed us whole. Lockers slamming, gear crashing to the floor, skates scraping against concrete, guys shouting trash talk like the match was the only thing that existed.

Thirty minutes until puck drop.

I reached into my cupboard, fingers wrapping around the familiar taped handle of my hockey stick, when Frank’s voice sliced through the noise.

“Tristan!”

I paused, but didn’t turn right away. I already knew what this was about.

Heavy footsteps approached fast. Frank appeared at my side, jaw locked, eyes burning with that familiar righteous anger.

“She looked down on you in there,” he said, voice low and accusatory. “And you let her walk away like nothing happened.”

I pulled the stick out slowly and rested it against my shoulder, keeping my movements controlled.

“She’s new,” I replied flatly. “She doesn’t know how things work here yet.”

Frank let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “That’s your excuse? She embarrassed you in front of the whole school, and you just stood there.”

I finally turned to face him.

Because it hadn’t felt like embarrassment.

It had felt… intriguing. Different. Like she wasn’t playing the same game everyone else did — bowing, flirting, or cowering. She had spoken to me like I was just another guy. Like my name didn’t carry weight.

“She’s just a kid,” I said.

The locker room went noticeably quieter. Conversations faltered. Heads turned.

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “A kid? That’s what we’re calling her now?”

I tightened my grip on the stick. “She doesn’t understand the boundaries here. She’ll learn.”

Behind Frank, the rest of the team had started gathering. Mark leaned against a nearby locker, arms crossed, watching everything with his usual quiet intensity.

Frank stepped closer, voice dropping. “This isn’t you, Tristan. You don’t let anyone disrespect you like that. Not in public.”

I didn’t answer right away.

Because I still wasn’t sure it had been disrespect.

She hadn’t mocked me. She hadn’t begged or cried. She had simply refused to yield.

Mark’s calm voice cut through the tension. “She didn’t flinch once, you know.”

Frank whipped around. “Exactly. That’s the problem.”

Mark pushed off the locker and stepped forward. “I checked her records quickly. Blair… she’s not some average new girl. Top grades. Clean academic history. Sharp as hell.”

The air in the room thickened.

Frank frowned. “So?”

Mark’s gaze flicked briefly to me before returning to Frank. “So maybe we don’t punish her outright. We use her.”

“Use her?” Frank repeated, brows furrowed.

Mark nodded once, unfazed. “Bring her in as a tutor. Let her think she’s being rewarded for being smart. Keep her close. Control who gets near her. Control the narrative.”

Frank’s expression shifted slowly, a dangerous smirk forming. “That’s not punishment.”

“It’s smarter,” Mark replied with a shrug. “Long-term control.”

Frank turned to me immediately, eyes expectant. “What do you think?”

Every guy in the room looked my way.

I should have shut it down. Told them to leave her alone.

But my mind kept circling back to her — standing tall in that cafeteria, cheek still red from Bella’s slap, eyes locked on mine with zero hesitation.

I exhaled slowly.

“Fine,” I said.

Frank nodded, satisfied. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

I added, voice low and final, “But if we do this, I decide exactly how it happens. No one else interferes.”

No one argued. Frank clapped once, shifting the energy back to the game. “Alright, enough talk. We’ve got a match in thirty. Gear up.”

The noise returned — bags unzipping, skates lacing, jokes flying again. But I stayed still for a second longer, my thoughts still tangled on her.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the exit.

Then I stopped, turning back to the room.

“She stays with me for thirty days as my personal tutor,” I announced, my voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent locker room. “If we’re doing this, that’s how it’s going to work.”

Everything froze.

Skates stopped moving. Bags dropped. Every head snapped toward me in disbelief.

“What the hell?!” Frank barked, eyes wide with shock.

Mark’s eyebrows shot up, but a slow, intrigued smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

I met their stunned gazes without flinching, my expression cold and unreadable.

“You heard me.”