Whoosh. The football flies through the air and right into Kenji's hands. Kenji and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. Although the guy is a player and a total dumbass sometimes, he is one of the best guys you could have as a friend. Every Saturday after hockey practice he and I come out into the college yard to pass a football around and talk. Whoosh. The football flies through the sky heading right for me, I reach up and catch the football in my hands, just barely.

"Pay attention, Roman," Kenji says, grinning at me, laughter in his tone. The warm afternoon breeze carries the scent of freshly cut grass from the nearby lawn. "You'll hit someone in the head if you keep zoning out like that." He taunts, his tone making me roll my eyes.

"I am not zoning out," I mutter under my breath and throw him the ball, which he catches with ease. Asshole. "I am just thinking about the game next weekend. It's a big one, Coach said some scouts will be there." I am the captain of the hockey team for Sunshine Hill College—the "Sunshine Rays"—which is such a ridiculous name considering we live in fucking Toronto, Canada. Kenji is a defenseman for the team.

Whoosh. I catch the ball once more. The leaves rustle above us as a couple walks by, laughing. "You'll do fine," Kenji says, his tone reassuring and exasperating all the same. "You're Roman fucking Amato. I mean, you're one of the best..." Kenji keeps talking but he is drowned out. All my focus now set on the woman sitting under the tree reading behind Kenji on his right. God... she is... beautiful. The sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across her face. I haven't seen her around campus before. And that in itself is a crime. "Are you even listening?" Kenji's voice brings me back. I tear my eyes from the beautiful woman under the tree. I sigh and look at him. "Yeah. Yeah. I heard you." I didn't hear a word but he doesn't need to know that.

Whoosh. I throw the ball back to him, the ball flies through the air and... Oh Shit. The sound of students chatting nearby fades as I realize what's happening. I must have thrown the ball too far to the right. The ball passes Kenji and is heading straight for the girl reading against the tree. Blissfully unaware of the ball flying right for her. Thwack. I wince at the sound, already running over to her. The grass feels soft beneath my sneakers as I sprint across the yard. I stop in front of her trying to ignore the fact she is even more beautiful up close.

"Shit, sorry about that." I crouch down, keeping a respectable distance from her. Her perfume—something fresh and floral—lingers in the air between us. "Are you alright? How many fingers am I holding up?" I ask, holding up four fingers. I mentally curse myself realizing how dumb that question is. Not the point. This girl just got hit by a damn football. I look at her, my green eyes soft with genuine concern.