Page 5 of Cross Checked
And honestly, that version felt way more interesting.
“You already picked somebody,” Aura said beside me.
I glanced over. “Was it obvious?”
“Your whole face changed.”
I laughed quietly before lowering my voice. “I’m thinking Cade Mercer.”
That got her attention.
Aura slowly set her highlighter down before turning toward me fully. “Interesting choice.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“No,” she said carefully. “I mean emotionally concerning.”
I grinned. “That is the most Bliss sentence you’ve ever spoken.”
“I’m serious, Bliss.”
“So am I.”
Aura leaned back slightly in her chair, studying me the same way she studied literally everything before deciding whether it was capable of ruining someone’s life.
“He’s the captain of the Fury,” she said quietly. “Looks like he walked out of aRalph Laurencampaign and definitely has unresolved childhood trauma hidden somewhere behind a trust fund.”
Okay, fair.
But Cade never felt exhausting around me the way most athletes did. Most hockey players carried this constant performative arrogance that got unbearable after like ten minutes, but Cade always felt… easier somehow. Sharper maybe. More attentive. Like he actually listened when I talked instead of waiting for an opportunity to flirt with himself in conversation.
Which honestly might’ve been worse, because men paying too much attention to me had never exactly improved my life.
The thought moved through me automatically, subtle enough nobody around me would’ve noticed the shift. My fingers tightened slightly around the marble in my pocket while my eyes flicked instinctively toward the exits before settling again.
Habit.
Just habit.
At the front of the room, Simpson clapped his hands together sharply.
“One more thing.”
The lecture hall quieted again.
“This project will require proximity,” he announced. “You cannot psychologically understand another human being from six feet away and a handful of text messages. If your documentary feels emotionally distant, you failed.”
A collective groan rolled through the room.
Simpson ignored all of us completely. “You need access with real time organic interaction. I expect immersion.”
I looked back down at the assignment sheet in my hands while my stomach gave one small uneasy flip.
Because suddenly the idea didn’t feel hypothetical anymore. If I could convince Cade to be the subject of this assignment it meant, actual time together, vulnerability and trust. And unfortunately for me, Cade Mercer had this very specific habit of making direct eye contact long enough to completely short-circuit my nervous system without even trying.
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Cade Mercer
