"Someone needs to remind me why we hate the hockey team because God damn, I'm about to fold. Just look at all the human male perfection we are missing out on," April sighed dreamily, and I rolled my chair a little back to lean over and peek at her computer screen.

She was gawking at one of the players doing pull-ups. Shirtless.

But that wasn't what grabbed my attention. Beside the shirtless dude, I spotted Atlas, who had accidentally walked into the frame. I could tell because the next minute he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead and I got the glorious view of his well-defined torso.

I knew he was fit, but I didn't know he was built like a marble sculpture.

I also didn't know how knowing this fact would make me feel or that I would get the sudden urge to trail my hand up his body and then slowly lower it until—- What the fuck?

There would be nothing of that sort happening. It was Atlas for fucksake, I hated that man. His tempting body changed nothing. Why am I even looking at him when the camera is on someone else?

Clearing my throat, I tore my gaze away from her screen, focusing back on mine where I spotted Atlas again in the background of Dylan's picture. Why was he everywhere? Or was I noticing him more?

"Because they stole our budget. They still do," I grumbled, picking up my tumbler and walking over to the water filter in the studio. I needed a screen break. The entire team had been going in and out of the studio to work in between classes since morning. The hockey team's webpage was launching soon and we were supposed to present a sample media kit by the end of this week for approval.

"Do you know how old some of our equipment is? They have been due for a change for at least five years now," I said, pressing the button for warm water.

April's brows furrowed. "I know that. But what does it have to do with the hockey team?"

"Because all the expensive hockey sticks, new jerseys, and latest equipment they get come from the cuts in our budget. And instead of being grateful, those brutes break expensive sticks like sore losers when things don't go their way and then demand new ones," Veena quipped and I gave her a thankful smile for backing me up.

She and I were the only freshmen present during that disastrous meeting two years ago. We had seen our seniors explain why we needed the budget, even stoop down to begging and yet, the budget went to the hockey team because they wanted some flashy workout machine. The cost of which could have covered the cost of half of our equipment.

On top of that, their current captain had the audacity to act like everyone in the university needed to adjust to their requirements and not complain because of course the hockey team was invaluable. How dare mere peasants like us ask for something?

Rage filled me again at the memory, reminding me that just because he was somewhat nice to me these days didn't erase all the times he'd been a complete douche.

Now, I just needed to hold onto these feelings throughout the project so that every time I was editing a video clip of him, posting his picture on the official Instagram account, or writing an article about him, I did not stray away from the objective. To get this project done and get the money that our team had deserved for a long time.

"Enough chit-chat now. Just save the files on the drive and then you can leave for your classes. We'll start properly working on them later," I said, dismissing the conversation. "And don't forget we have a game to attend tonight. Make sure all cameras are charged and you have enough space on the hard drives."

I got a series of affirmations before everyone filtered out one by one, leaving me alone in the studio. I didn't have any classes in the afternoon, so I decided to stay back and work some more.

I had to start writing an introductory article that would tell readers a little about collegiate ice hockey so that anyone who didn't know about it could quickly follow and introduce the guys. It would be the first blog post to go up on the hockey team's webpage.

Coach had also asked the media team to attend the match with the "enemy" of Wellsfield—his words not mine. While I was one of the few who did not make a big deal of this so-called enemy, I did believe it could be a great way to gain traction on all the platforms.

As I was going through the clips in the gym to decide which would go in the reels, Atlas's face took over my computer screen. He was working on one of the equipment while beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and neck. My eyes got fixated on him. The way his muscles stretched, the way his lips formed an O as he let out a breath, and the way his dark hair was plastered on his forehead. He looked mesmerizing.

He suddenly looked straight into the camera and I remembered how he was looking at me at that moment as I was standing right behind Tyler. His eyes darkened and a smirk formed on his lips, making my throat run dry for the second time. Then his face split in a wide grin and my breath hitched.

I slammed the laptop shut and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I cannot let this happen. I should be the last person getting attracted to him. He might look like a reincarnated demi-God but that won't make up for all the lacking in the personality department.

I had clearly deprived myself of male company for too long, and that's why suddenly Griffin was starting to look like a three-course meal. Otherwise, there was no way in hell I would find that arrogant prick attractive.

"I need to get laid," I huffed and stood up to take a walk around the room.

I was done with looking at hockey players for the time being. It was bad enough that I had to be in constant contact with Atlas for most of this year. I couldn't afford to make it worse by bringing attraction into the mix. Not only would it mess with me but also the project. It was a bad idea through and through.

Time flew by as I went through one clip after another. Editing and batching everything together so that all the content we had collected was ready to go. After moving the last clip to the reel folder on our drive, I leaned back on my chair and stared up at the ceiling, my back making a cracking sound.

Heaving a sigh, I shut my eyes and decided to stay like that for a minute. I was just about ready to doze off when the shrill sound of my ringtone shook me out of my stupor. I flailed in my chair for an embarrassing minute before finally locating my phone and pressing receive on the incoming call.

"Hello?" I said, my voice heavy with sleep.

"You are sleeping?" Derek's incredulous voice came from the other end.

"I'm not!" I blurted and then shut my eyes at how defensive I sounded. He would pick at me for this later.

I could practically see him rolling his eyes from behind his glasses. "You are late, Miss Team Leader. The game just started. You better hurry up if you want to write that article of yours."

With that, he hung up.

I cursed loudly when I saw the time. He wasn't bluffing when he said I better hurry. I shot up from the chair and scrambled to throw all my stuff in my bag. Notepad, pens, car keys, phone— Check!

Once I was sure that I had everything, I dashed out of the studio, locking it in a hurry. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I ran down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Thankfully, it was a home game for us, so I didn't have to drive to an entirely different campus.

When I reached the parking lot, I quickly unlocked the car and jumped inside, jamming the key into the ignition. I turned it and then— nothing.

"No, no, no, no. Please don't do this to me." I turned the key again, then took it out and tried once more. The car made a screeching sound before shutting down completely.

"Fuck!" I slammed my hands on the steering wheel before placing my forehead against it.

Of course, this would happen to me. When had anything gone well in my life?

No! I didn't have time to wallow in self-pity. I could still make it. After all, the game was just on the other side of the campus. Even if I missed the beginning, I could catch the end. And I could watch the rest through the recording. Mark could help me fill in the gaps.

Yes! That would work!

With newfound determination, I got out of the car, locked it, and began sprinting in the direction of the rink. In situations like these, I wished I was more athletic. If I was, my legs wouldn't have burned like they did, and I wouldn't be gasping for each breath.

I was halfway there when I felt the first drop of rain fall on my head. Then another. Within minutes, it was pouring down like a storm in summer. But we were way past the summer months.

Pausing momentarily, I stared up at the sky, glaring at it as if that would scare the clouds away. "Disrespectfully, fuck you, universe!"

Thunder roared loudly in the sky. Probably the universe's way of saying fuck you back.

Huffing, I took a few deep breaths before starting to sprint again. After twenty excruciating minutes, the arena came into view. With a final burst of speed, I made it inside the building and almost collapsed to the floor.

"Evelyn? Oh my God!" I looked up to see Veena rushing towards me. "You are drenched! What the hell happened?"

"It's...it's raining outside. Car broke down," I gasped. "I ran."

"God!" she exclaimed as she began wiping my hair with her handkerchief.

"What are you doing outside?" I asked.

"When you didn't arrive, I got worried. I stepped outside to call you, but you didn't pick up," she said.

"I was running. How much of the game did I miss?"

"Both the first and second period. And the third one just started," she replied.

"Okay, okay. That's still good. I'll go inside immediately." I was about to run inside when Veena grabbed my arm, stopping me.

"You'll freeze to death if you go inside like that. Here, take this," she said and shoved a white jersey in my hand.

"What's this?"

"The team's jersey. They were distributing it to show support to the team. Change into this," she explained. "The bathroom's that way."

Without a second thought, I grabbed the jersey and rushed inside the ladies' room. Thankfully, all the stalls were empty, and there was nobody there to watch me struggle with my wet top. I pulled on the white jersey, ramming my elbow against the stall's wall and letting out a low curse.

Veena was still standing by the door when I walked out. She took one look at me and snorted, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What?" I asked.

"I can't believe I didn't see which jersey I brought for you."

I raised a brow at her before looking down at the jersey. As soon as I saw the number 1 and the G, I didn't need to read the rest of the name to know whose jersey it was.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I groaned. Atlas wouldn't let me live this down if he saw me wearing his jersey. But I wasn't about to freeze to death, either. "There wasn't anyone else's jersey left?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "It looks good on you. Do you want me to take a picture?"

"Oh, shut it. Let's go," I said, starting to walk in the direction of the rink.

When I entered, I noticed how the crowd was divided into whites and oranges. Someone had just scored, and everyone was on their feet, yelling and screaming. Some were just cheering while others were booing and, on the extremes, some profanities were being thrown in the mix.

"It's wild in here!" Veena yelled over the noise.

I nodded my head in agreement. "I'm heading to the bench! I'll see you later," I said, jerking my thumb in the direction where I could see the coach and other players. She gave me a thumbs-up as we went our separate ways.

"Oh, you finally showed up. Took you long enough," Derek commented as soon as he saw me.

Before I could say anything, Tyler interrupted me. "Why is your hair wet?"

"I got caught in the rain. It's fine. What's going on?" I looked around to find the scoreboard. The Maple Park Tigers had already scored one goal while Wellsfield Eagles were still on zero.

"Don't try to hog the puck goddammit!" Coach yelled before anyone could answer, making me flinch.

"First time at a game?" Tyler asked, raising a brow.

I gave him a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Not a fan of hockey," I said truthfully. To be clear, it wasn't because of Atlas. I truly had never found myself interested in watching or learning about sports, not just hockey. Growing up, the only sports event I watched was the Olympics.

"I did my research and read about the rules and everything when this project was given to us, but I still can't understand everything. It's so fast!"

Tyler nodded. "You'll get used to it after a while."

I watched with wide eyes as the players zoomed past, following the puck. One of Maple Park's defenders laid a punishing hit, earning a round of boo's as they turned the puck the other way. Everything happened so fast as the opposing team flew up the wing that I struggled to see the puck before the buzzer went off, announcing another goal for Maple Park.

Coach threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "Get your heads in the game!"

I didn't need to understand hockey to know that whatever was happening on the ice right now was not great.

"This is not looking good, is it?" I whispered to Tyler. Our side of the audience had become eerily silent since I'd arrived, and the tense look on Tyler's face told me everything I needed to know.

"It's not," Tyler replied, his eyes trained straight ahead as the puck dropped again to resume play. Atlas tried to skate up the middle, but an opposing player nudged him away, earning a frustrated slap of a stick from him.

I knew I had to write the article later, but I wasn't sure anyone would want to read it with the way the game was unfolding. I looked down at the notepad in my lap, jotting down a rough outline I was sure would ruffle some feathers. Especially the guy with the number one printed on his jersey who was getting more agitated by the minute.

But if Wellsfield was going to come back in this game, Atlas was going to need to prove why he was so worthy of the worship everyone piled upon him.

Or else my article was going to have to prove I was right about him all along.