of us. Dang, I really needed to pull myself together before I started to hyperventilate. “Um, we should go.”
Corby opened the glass door and smiled. “After you.”
“Thanks,” I whispered as I walked past, swooning inside over the chivalrous gesture. Turning to the right, we made it all the way to the door of his first class before I realized I hadn’t said anything else. After clearing my throat, I mumbled, “You ended up with a great teacher for American Lit. Mr. Miller is one of the best in the school. As long as you put in the effort and turn stuff in on time, you’ll probably get an A.”
“That’s good to know.” After looking into the classroom, Corby pulled a map and pencil out of the pocket of his khaki pants and jotted a note on it. “One of my teammates told me which teachers to avoid so I wouldn’t end up with a shit schedule.”
“Teammate?” I echoed softly as we headed to his next class.
“Yeah, I play hockey.”
I didn’t know much about hockey—or really any sport since I tended to avoid activities that made me sweat. But it was impossible to be a student at BMA and miss that we had a great team because they’d made it to the state championship game every year since I’d been here and had won twice. “Are you any good?”
His lips curved up in a cocky grin. “Good enough that I was the MVP when my last team ended the Cougars’ hope of snagging the cup again last year.”
That explained why the Whitneys had taken him into their home—he was the new star of our hockey team. William Whitney had played for BMA’s team when he went to school here, and so had his father. He donated so much money to the team each year that the rink the Cougars played in was named after him. I could totally see him manipulating the foster system to get a hotshot player on our team so they didn’t lose the championship again this year. “I’ve never been to a game, but that sounds pretty impressive.”
“You should come see us play at the start of next month,” he suggested with a grin that made my knees feel weak, which was really bad timing since we needed to head upstairs so I could show him where he needed to go for third period. “It’s our first game, and you’re the first student I’ve met who isn’t on the team. You can be the person there to cheer me on in the stands since I don’t know anyone else here.”
“A month is an awfully long time. I’m sure you’ll have a whole fan club by then.” With his looks, it was practically guaranteed.
A hint of pink tinged his cheeks as he shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Hockey wasn’t a big deal at my old school, and the stands were pretty empty besides the parents of my teammates.”
“Even when you guys were playing for the championship?” I asked, pointing out his third-period classroom.
He jotted another note on his map before answering. “We pulled in a slightly bigger crowd then, but it still wasn’t anything like how they pack them in at football games on Friday nights.”
“Hmm.” I pressed my lips together, thinking about how I would feel about the lack of support if I were him as we walked down the hallway. “I guess I could come to your first game so there’s at least one friendly face rooting you on.”
He held the stairway door open for me, grinning down at me. “Thanks. That would be cool of you.”
I doubted he’d still think so if he ever found out how many times I had stared at him through a set of binoculars this summer, but I wasn’t silly enough to confess and ruin a good thing. Surprised by how comfortable I felt talking to him, I pointed out which classes we’d have together as I showed him the rooms for the rest of his schedule. We were back downstairs, standing in front of the office when the first bell went off and students started streaming into the building. “I guess that’s your cue to head off to American lit.”
“Can I walk you to your first class?” He tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Or will I get all turned around and forget how to get to mine?”
For the first time since I’d set my schedule for the year, I regretted starting my day as the