Chapter 2 2

Jeremy POV

My gaze follows her as she walks away.

Elena Cameron.

I never thought I'd see her again.

Her hair is shorter now, no longer in two pigtails. She still has those full lips and those sparkling blue eyes that make me forget my own name. Her voice is the same, though raspier than I remember.

She's grown up, obviously-not the fourteen-year-old girl I knew. She looks different than I imagined, but it's a good different.

Elena Cameron. Her name keeps echoing in my mind.

How is it possible for someone to drag you out of the present and out of your own control?

A hand slaps my shoulder. "You good, man? Looks like you've seen a ghost."

I turn to see Asher staring at me, eyes full of unnecessary concern. "What? I'm fine," I say, unconvincingly.

"Okay... You sure? Because you're pale as hell." He narrows his eyes.

"I said I'm fine, didn't I?" I snap, not meaning to.

He holds his hands up. "Okay, okay man. Just checking."

I drag my hand down my face. "Sorry-it's just-"

How do I explain that the girl I've been in love with since I was thirteen just bumped into me? The girl I haven't seen in almost five years is now here-at Clare University.

"-nothing, it's nothing."

I don't pay attention to the rest of the game. All I know is we won because Asher jumped on top of me when the buzzer went off.

Matthew and I met on the first day of high school at the tryouts for ice hockey. We've been best mates ever since. We've got each other's backs, something I didn't have for a while-not that I'd ever tell him unless I was on my deathbed.

"Do you think Samara was looking at me during the game? I swear she was," he says as we drive back to our apartment.

"Don't know, she was a little preoccupied, don't you think?"

Samara is a cheerleader he's had his eyes on for a while now-a week, actually, but considering it's Asher, that's a lot.

He stares at me. "Okay man, tell me what's up."

I sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Nothing's up."

He scoffs. "Hell yeah there is. You've been all distant-even more than usual-since that girl crashed into you."

I hesitate, but he won't leave it alone if I don't answer. "I know her."

"Okay?" He says slowly. "Who is it then?"

I don't answer.

"I'm not a mind reader. I wish I was, but I'm not-so can you tell me who the hell that was?"

I exhale. "Elena. Elena Cameron."

His face is blank for a moment, then a small smile creeps up. "Ah, Elena." His smile turns into a smirk.

"Shut the hell up."

"Well, I guess you have your chance now," he says with a shrug.

"Chance at what?"

"Love," he says in a voice that clearly isn't his.

I throw my empty coffee cup at him. "Gross, man."

I park the car as we walk up to our apartment.

"She does remember you, right?" Asher asks.

"Do I know you?" I remember her asking. I can't get her voice out of my head.

"Nah-I don't think so, at least."

He drops his keys. "Actually?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'm not sure why you're so surprised."

"Why aren't you more surprised?"

"It's been five years. You can't expect her to remember every face she meets."

He mumbles, "You have a pretty memorable face."

I chuckle. "Aw, did you just admit your deep, indulging love for me, little Asher?"

He murmurs something as he chucks his shoes in the hallway and walks to his room.

"Big baby," I whisper.

"I heard that!" he yells from his room.

Today I have my first biology class. I didn't know what classes I wanted to take when I got to college-I still don't. All I know is I want to play hockey professionally-I did get a full-ride scholarship, after all.

Yesterday felt like a dream. I can't decide if it was a good or bad one; all I know is it didn't feel real. It still doesn't.

I arrive at the lecture hall early, finding a seat at the back. One by one, people fill the seats around me as I work on an essay that needs to be submitted by Thursday. I have only a few days to complete two thousand more words. A notification pops up on my phone.

Asher: Have you seen your one true love today?

I roll my eyes as I type back.

Jeremy: It's a massive school, man. I'm probably not going to see her again

Asher: Love always finds a way

Jeremy: WTF? Since when did you become such a softie?

Jeremy: I actually don't care, don't answer that question

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and check the time. The professor should be here any minute. I continue typing when I hear someone putting their books on the desk next to me.

Elena Cameron.

She's wearing an oversized black jumper and baggy skater jeans. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she looks perfect.

She pulls out a book and starts reading without giving me a hint of recognition. She really doesn't remember me.

Good. That's good, right?

"Will you stop looking at me, pervert?" she asks suddenly, her voice sharp but with a shaky edge. I realize I've been staring at her since she sat down.

"I'm not."

"Tell that to yourself," she replies.

"Just wondering how your head is," I say casually, though my heart is racing.

"I'm sorry?" She asks like it's the craziest thing she's ever heard.

"Wow, you must have really gotten a concussion."

She rolls her eyes. "I didn't."

The professor starts the lecture, but I can't get Elena out of my head. She listens intently, picking at her nails, which are so short I can see the ragged edges and peeling skin. I'm half-listening to the professor, who assigns another essay. Great, another essay.

An hour later, Elena speaks again. "I remember how I know you, Jeremy Steves." She doesn't look away from the screen.

My breath hitches. "Oh yeah?"

"You're a hockey player," she says. "And a well-known dick."

I don't know how to reply.

"Not very surprising," she whispers.

"And why is that?" I counter.

"You hockey players have a type."

"Maybe the ones you've met."

She scoffs, a small smirk appearing on her face.

A soft pat on my shoulder makes me turn to see a pretty girl twirling her black hair between her fingers, smiling.

"Hey, you're Jeremy, right?" I nod.

"Sorry if this is a creepy question, but are you busy after class today?" She asks. I know her type-they barely know me but love the idea of dating someone on the hockey team.

"I'm busy, sorry."

"Oh, okay. How about tomorrow?"

"Look-I'm sorry, but I'm not really interested."

She visibly winces and walks away without another word, her friends huddling around her. I hear a snort from Elena. "Not a dick, huh?" She stands, gathers her books, and walks out, hugging her arms around her waist.