The hockey player i admire from afar

SOFIA’S Pov

“I’ll be damned, Ava. This campus  is massive, way bigger than the pictures.” I held the phone tight against my ear.

Ava’s voice rang out through the speaker, steady despite the distance. “Don’t be nervous, Sof. It’s just your first day in this campus. You earned your place there.”

“I really can’t lie,” I muttered, watching a sleek sports car roll past the iron gates. “I’m so nervous.” My chest felt tight, the kind of anxiety that settles deep into your ribs when you realize you’re entirely out of your depth.

The driver who had brought me from the station cleared his throat, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “We’ve reached your destination, miss.”

“Thank you,” I told the man, offering a quick smile as I paid him.

I climbed out of the backseat, dragging my two pieces of luggage onto the cobblestone path. The car pulled away, leaving me stranded at the sprawling campus. I stood there, frozen, trying to process my surroundings.

“Ava,” I whispered back into the phone, my fingers tightening on the handles of my bags. “My legs can barely move right now. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Think about how hard you worked for this scholarship, Sofia,” Ava reminded me, her tone shifting into that firm voice she used whenever I started to panic. “You did the work. Now, you should begin by hanging up, finding your hostel, and then resuming for class. You’ve got this.”

I let out a long, shaky sigh, dropping my shoulders. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll talk to you later.” I bid Ava goodbye and pressed end on the call, sliding the phone into my pocket.

Taking a deep breath to steady the nervousness of my heart, I muttered under my breath, “Cheers to the beginning of senior year. Whew.”

I gripped the handles and dragged my luggage forward, the wheels clicking loudly against the pavement.

Everywhere I looked, ridiculously expensive cars were dropping off students. Sleek black SUVs, customized sports cars, vehicles that cost more than my family’s entire house. I watched a girl step out of a glossy white coupe, her designer bag swinging carelessly from her elbow. ‘The students here are rich, rich,’  I muttered to myself, adjusting the strap of my backpack.

Feeling thoroughly lost, I spotted a security guard standing near a grand stone archway. I swallowed my pride and walked over to him. “Excuse me, sir? Could you tell me where the hostel for the third batch students is?”

The man looked down at my worn suitcases, his expression softening with a kind, professional smile. He pointed down a wide, tree lined path to the left. “Take that walkway all the way to the end, miss. It’s the large brick building on the courtyard. And try to hurry—don’t be late for your lecture today.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, genuinely relieved.

With much difficulty, I managed to maneuver the heavy bags down the path, my muscles burning by the time the building came into view. I finally found my hostel, pausing at the entrance. It was bigger than anything I had ever seen, resembling a historic luxury hotel rather than standard student housing.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the suite. The space was bright.  A girl was standing in front of a large mirror, aggressively slamming a powder puff against her face, clouding the air with a faint scent of expensive vanilla.

The click of the door closing made her stop. She froze, her hand hovering in the air as she used the mirror to assess me, her eyes tracking my movement from the doorway.

I cleared my throat, the silence stretching uncomfortably. “Hi,” I muttered, keeping my hands wrapped around my luggage handles.

The girl turned around completely, leaning her hip against the table. She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my sensible shoes and unbranded clothes before a look of pure annoyance crossed her features. “I literally begged my mother to pay for a private hostel for me,” she complained, tossing the powder puff onto the counter with a dramatic sigh. “And now I have to share a room with some stranger.”

I stiffened, the cold reception hitting me like a slap in the face. I didn't say a word, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. Assuming the second bed near the window was mine, I quietly walked past her, lifted my luggage onto the mattress, and began pulling some necessary textbooks and notebooks out to put into my handbag.

The girl watched my movements, her arms crossing over her chest. “What’s your name?” she asked, her tone dry.

“Sofia,” I told her, not bothering to look up as I zipped my bag.

“Well, Sofia, I have an important rule that’s not supposed to be broken while you’re living here,” she stated, her chin tilting up.

I raised a brow, finally turning to face her fully, letting my silence demand the explanation.

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me. “No playing music past nine p.m. None. I’m an early sleeper, and I need my rest.”

A small, tight smile touched my lips, more out of amusement than actual warmth. “Good thing I don’t play music much anyway,” I replied, keeping my voice cool and even.

She didn't look relieved,  instead, her eyes narrowed slightly as she analyzed my calm demeanor. “Are you a transfer student? Or a scholarship student?”

The question was a trap, a way to categorize me in the campus hierarchy before the first bell even rang. I lifted my chin, refusing to feel ashamed of the merit that got me here. “I’m a scholarship student.”

The girl let out a short mocking snicker, turning back to the mirror. “Yeah, it’s not hard to tell,” she murmured carelessly. She picked up her cosmetics again, continuing to slam her face with powder as if I had suddenly ceased to exist.

A flash of anger sparked in my stomach, but I swallowed it down, channeling the energy into focus. I checked my printed timetable, my eyes scanning the morning slots. English. I had English this morning, and the clock was ticking.

I picked up my handbag, slinging it over my shoulder. I walked toward the door, but stopped before checking my outfit in the full length mirror one last time, smoothing down the fabric of my jacket to ensure I looked presentable.

Turning back toward the vanity, I realized I didn't want to start the semester completely blind to my enemy. “I didn’t get your name,” I told the girl.

She stopped her movements, throwing me a look through the glass. She let the silence stretch for a beat, making sure I knew exactly how inconvenient my presence was to her, before she finally spoke.

“Maya,” she said shortly, turning her back to me once more.

I nodded to the empty air, gripped the doorknob, and stepped out into the corridor, closing the door on her vanity and heading toward my first class.