Ryder Alexander Hayes
People say Ryder Hayes was born lucky. Born into money. Born into fame. Born with a hockey stick in one hand and a stupidly pretty face in the other. Every Friday night, the entire campus packed into Blackridge Arena just to watch him play And every Saturday morning, there’d be another rumor about which girl left his dorm at 3 a.m. Typical Ryder Hayes behavior. So no, I wasn’t supposed to end up sitting beside him in detention at one in the morning. Especially not after punching him in the face. “You hit hard,” he said, pressing an ice pack against his jaw. I stared ahead. “You deserved worse.” A laugh slipped from his lips low, amused, effortless. God, I already hated him. Ryder leaned back in his chair like he owned the room, bruised mouth curling into a grin. “Funny thing is,” he murmured, eyes dragging over me slowly, “you’re the first girl here who’s ever looked at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’m not Ryder Hayes.” Yep that's how we met each other!
About Ryder Alexander Hayes
People say Ryder Hayes was born lucky. Born into money. Born into fame. Born with a hockey stick in one hand and a stupidly pretty face in the other. Every Friday night, the entire campus packed into Blackridge Arena just to watch him play And every Saturday morning, there’d be another rumor about which girl left his dorm at 3 a.m. Typical Ryde...Read more