Page 32 of Puck Sweat Love

Stone’s blue eyes widen, and his fork remains frozen between his plate and mouth.

“What?” I finally ask, casting a pointed glance at his utensil.

He sets it back on his plate, clearing his throat as he lifts his hands at his sides. “Nothing, I just… I didn’t… I thought you were…” He lets out an awkward laugh. “I mean, Stephanie’s just so upbeat, so happy and sweet and always looking on the bright side. And you’re…”

I scowl hard enough to make the backs of my eyes ache a little.

Stone motions to my face with one of his golden-boy grins. “Exactly.”

I grunt and force my features to relax.

“But that’s okay,” Stone says, reclaiming his fork with a chuckle. “Not everyone likes fun.”

“I like fun,” I say, taking a pull on my beer before setting it back on the table with a thud. We’re at Healani’s, the Hawaiian-themed sports bar not far from the practice facility. It’s Monday night and it’s dead—exactly the way I like it. I’d rather have my asshole bleached than step foot in here on karaoke night or during football season.

Maybe Idohate fun…

But Stephanie doesn’t seem to mind.

“We have a good time together.” I snag a fry from my nearly-empty plate. Unlike Stone, I was raised in a home where dinner wasn’t always a given, and I wolf down my food accordingly. “I took her to the food trucks in the art district on Friday, and we grabbed smoothies yesterday after my private yoga class.”

Stone waggles his brows suggestively. “Well, well… So, you’re takingprivateclasses now, huh? And how’s that?”

“It’s good,” I say, refusing to rise to the bait.

He smirks. “I bet it is.”

“Shut up, asshole. I’m taking care of my health.”

He snorts. “Oh yeah? Is that what they’re calling it these days? Just be sure you take care ofherhealth first. A gentleman always does.”

“Say another word about her ‘health,’ and I’ll have to punch you,” I say, making Stone chuckle again. I wait for him to stop giggling. When he doesn’t, I add, “I’m not kidding. And it’ll be in the face. Not the abs. No amount of gut clenching will save you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” he says, popping a giant bite of rice and pork into his mouth and talking around it. “You’re cute when you’re falling in love. Violent, but cute.”

I bristle, my jaw going tight as I reach for my beer again. “We’ve been on two dates. Don’t be stupid.”

But I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince—Stone or myself. I know it’s way too soon to have real feelings, but I alsoknow I haven’t felt anything like what I feel when I’m with Steph in a long time.

“And I didn’t tell you so you could fuck with me, dickhead,” I add. “I was hoping you might actually have some advice.”

“Sorry, brother,” he says, making a visible effort to stop giggling and smirking. “What kind of advice are you looking for?”

I reach for another fry, avoiding eye contact as I mutter, “I don’t know. Any kind, I guess. I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a long time. And I realized last night when I got home, that I…” I pull in breath, pushing through the discomfort tightening my chest. Stone knows all about my checkered past, and he’s never judged. He’s one of the few friends from my early days in the NHL who stood by me, even when I probably didn’t deserve his loyalty.

It’s one of the reasons I put up with his shit.

He certainly put up with mine.

“I’ve never dated anyone sober,” I continue in a softer voice. “Even before the pills became a problem, I was always high when I hung out with girls in high school and in the minors. I’ve never dated anyone seriously as an adult, either. I mean, I guess twenty-four is technically an adult, but I sure as hell didn’t act like one back then.”

His brows lift as he gives a slow nod. “Ah, got it. Yeah, I can see how that might feel intimidating.”

“I’m not intimidated,” I say, honestly, “I just don’t want to screw it up. She’s a good person. Really good. Special. And I…”

“You want to treat her right,” Stone finishes. “That’s sweet, Tank.” I’m about to tell him to fuck off, when he hurries to add, “No, seriously, it is. And I agree with you. Stephanie seems like a special person.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “I mean, I’ve only been to a few of her classes, but as far as I can tell, what you see, is what you get with her. She doesn’t seem like the kindof girl who’s going to play games or expect you to read her mind or any of that shit. If you’re dropping the ball, I’m pretty sure she’ll tell you.”

I nod. “I know she will, but I don’t want her to have to, dude. I don’t want to bethatguy. I want to be proactive. I just… I don’t even know how often to text or call. I mean, do people who are exclusive still call each other up out of the blue? Or should I text first to make sure she wants to talk? And how far in advance should I make plans? Is three days good? Should I aim for a week? More? And who makes the plans? Do I suggest something, and then ask her if?—”

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